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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Zuleika Dobson, by Max Beerbohm
+
+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 www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Zuleika Dobson
+       or, An Oxford Love Story
+
+Author: Max Beerbohm
+
+Posting Date: November 25, 2008 [EBook #1845]
+Release Date: August, 1999
+Last Updated: October 18, 2016
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ZULEIKA DOBSON ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Judy Boss
+
+
+
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+or, AN OXFORD LOVE STORY
+
+By Max Beerbohm
+
+
+
+
+
+         NOTE to the 1922 edition
+
+         I was in Italy when this book was first published.
+         A year later (1912) I visited London, and I found
+         that most of my friends and acquaintances spoke to
+         me of Zu-like-a--a name which I hardly recognised
+         and thoroughly disapproved. I had always thought
+         of the lady as Zu-leek-a. Surely it was thus that
+         Joseph thought of his Wife, and Selim of his Bride?
+         And I do hope that it is thus that any reader of
+         these pages will think of Miss Dobson.
+
+                                              M.B.
+                                              Rapallo, 1922.
+
+
+
+
+ILLI ALMAE MATRI
+
+
+
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+
+
+
+I
+
+That old bell, presage of a train, had just sounded through Oxford
+station; and the undergraduates who were waiting there, gay figures in
+tweed or flannel, moved to the margin of the platform and gazed idly
+up the line. Young and careless, in the glow of the afternoon sunshine,
+they struck a sharp note of incongruity with the worn boards they stood
+on, with the fading signals and grey eternal walls of that antique
+station, which, familiar to them and insignificant, does yet whisper to
+the tourist the last enchantments of the Middle Age.
+
+At the door of the first-class waiting-room, aloof and venerable, stood
+the Warden of Judas. An ebon pillar of tradition seemed he, in his garb
+of old-fashioned cleric. Aloft, between the wide brim of his silk hat
+and the white extent of his shirt-front, appeared those eyes which
+hawks, that nose which eagles, had often envied. He supported his years
+on an ebon stick. He alone was worthy of the background.
+
+Came a whistle from the distance. The breast of an engine was descried,
+and a long train curving after it, under a flight of smoke. It grew
+and grew. Louder and louder, its noise foreran it. It became a furious,
+enormous monster, and, with an instinct for safety, all men receded
+from the platform’s margin. (Yet came there with it, unknown to them,
+a danger far more terrible than itself.) Into the station it came
+blustering, with cloud and clangour. Ere it had yet stopped, the door of
+one carriage flew open, and from it, in a white travelling dress, in a
+toque a-twinkle with fine diamonds, a lithe and radiant creature slipped
+nimbly down to the platform.
+
+A cynosure indeed! A hundred eyes were fixed on her, and half as many
+hearts lost to her. The Warden of Judas himself had mounted on his nose
+a pair of black-rimmed glasses. Him espying, the nymph darted in his
+direction. The throng made way for her. She was at his side.
+
+“Grandpapa!” she cried, and kissed the old man on either cheek. (Not a
+youth there but would have bartered fifty years of his future for that
+salute.)
+
+“My dear Zuleika,” he said, “welcome to Oxford! Have you no luggage?”
+
+“Heaps!” she answered. “And a maid who will find it.”
+
+“Then,” said the Warden, “let us drive straight to College.” He offered
+her his arm, and they proceeded slowly to the entrance. She chatted
+gaily, blushing not in the long avenue of eyes she passed through. All
+the youths, under her spell, were now quite oblivious of the relatives
+they had come to meet. Parents, sisters, cousins, ran unclaimed about
+the platform. Undutiful, all the youths were forming a serried suite to
+their enchantress. In silence they followed her. They saw her leap into
+the Warden’s landau, they saw the Warden seat himself upon her left. Nor
+was it until the landau was lost to sight that they turned--how slowly,
+and with how bad a grace!--to look for their relatives.
+
+Through those slums which connect Oxford with the world, the landau
+rolled on towards Judas. Not many youths occurred, for nearly all--it
+was the Monday of Eights Week--were down by the river, cheering the
+crews. There did, however, come spurring by, on a polo-pony, a very
+splendid youth. His straw hat was encircled with a riband of blue and
+white, and he raised it to the Warden.
+
+“That,” said the Warden, “is the Duke of Dorset, a member of my College.
+He dines at my table to-night.”
+
+Zuleika, turning to regard his Grace, saw that he had not reined in and
+was not even glancing back at her over his shoulder. She gave a little
+start of dismay, but scarcely had her lips pouted ere they curved to a
+smile--a smile with no malice in its corners.
+
+As the landau rolled into “the Corn,” another youth--a pedestrian, and
+very different--saluted the Warden. He wore a black jacket, rusty and
+amorphous. His trousers were too short, and he himself was too short:
+almost a dwarf. His face was as plain as his gait was undistinguished.
+He squinted behind spectacles.
+
+“And who is that?” asked Zuleika.
+
+A deep flush overspread the cheek of the Warden. “That,” he said, “is
+also a member of Judas. His name, I believe, is Noaks.”
+
+“Is he dining with us to-night?” asked Zuleika.
+
+“Certainly not,” said the Warden. “Most decidedly not.”
+
+Noaks, unlike the Duke, had stopped for an ardent retrospect. He gazed
+till the landau was out of his short sight; then, sighing, resumed his
+solitary walk.
+
+The landau was rolling into “the Broad,” over that ground which had once
+blackened under the fagots lit for Latimer and Ridley. It rolled past
+the portals of Balliol and of Trinity, past the Ashmolean. From those
+pedestals which intersperse the railing of the Sheldonian, the high
+grim busts of the Roman Emperors stared down at the fair stranger in
+the equipage. Zuleika returned their stare with but a casual glance. The
+inanimate had little charm for her.
+
+A moment later, a certain old don emerged from Blackwell’s, where he had
+been buying books. Looking across the road, he saw, to his amazement,
+great beads of perspiration glistening on the brows of those Emperors.
+He trembled, and hurried away. That evening, in Common Room, he told
+what he had seen; and no amount of polite scepticism would convince him
+that it was but the hallucination of one who had been reading too much
+Mommsen. He persisted that he had seen what he described. It was not
+until two days had elapsed that some credence was accorded him.
+
+Yes, as the landau rolled by, sweat started from the brows of the
+Emperors. They, at least, foresaw the peril that was overhanging Oxford,
+and they gave such warning as they could. Let that be remembered to
+their credit. Let that incline us to think more gently of them. In their
+lives we know, they were infamous, some of them--“nihil non commiserunt
+stupri, saevitiae, impietatis.” But are they too little punished, after
+all? Here in Oxford, exposed eternally and inexorably to heat and frost,
+to the four winds that lash them and the rains that wear them away, they
+are expiating, in effigy, the abominations of their pride and cruelty
+and lust. Who were lechers, they are without bodies; who were tyrants,
+they are crowned never but with crowns of snow; who made themselves even
+with the gods, they are by American visitors frequently mistaken for
+the Twelve Apostles. It is but a little way down the road that the two
+Bishops perished for their faith, and even now we do never pass the spot
+without a tear for them. Yet how quickly they died in the flames! To
+these Emperors, for whom none weeps, time will give no surcease. Surely,
+it is sign of some grace in them that they rejoiced not, this bright
+afternoon, in the evil that was to befall the city of their penance.
+
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+The sun streamed through the bay-window of a “best” bedroom in the
+Warden’s house, and glorified the pale crayon-portraits on the wall,
+the dimity curtains, the old fresh chintz. He invaded the many trunks
+which--all painted Z. D.--gaped, in various stages of excavation, around
+the room. The doors of the huge wardrobe stood, like the doors of
+Janus’ temple in time of war, majestically open; and the sun seized this
+opportunity of exploring the mahogany recesses. But the carpet, which
+had faded under his immemorial visitations, was now almost ENTIRELY
+hidden from him, hidden under layers of fair fine linen, layers of
+silk, brocade, satin, chiffon, muslin. All the colours of the rainbow,
+materialised by modistes, were there. Stacked on chairs were I know not
+what of sachets, glove-cases, fan-cases. There were innumerable packages
+in silver-paper and pink ribands. There was a pyramid of bandboxes.
+There was a virgin forest of boot-trees. And rustling quickly hither and
+thither, in and out of this profusion, with armfuls of finery, was an
+obviously French maid. Alert, unerring, like a swallow she dipped and
+darted. Nothing escaped her, and she never rested. She had the air of
+the born unpacker--swift and firm, yet withal tender. Scarce had her
+arms been laden but their loads were lying lightly between shelves or
+tightly in drawers. To calculate, catch, distribute, seemed in her but a
+single process. She was one of those who are born to make chaos cosmic.
+
+Insomuch that ere the loud chapel-clock tolled another hour all the
+trunks had been sent empty away. The carpet was unflecked by any scrap
+of silver-paper. From the mantelpiece, photographs of Zuleika surveyed
+the room with a possessive air. Zuleika’s pincushion, a-bristle with
+new pins, lay on the dimity-flounced toilet-table, and round it stood
+a multitude of multiform glass vessels, domed, all of them, with dull
+gold, on which Z. D., in zianites and diamonds, was encrusted. On
+a small table stood a great casket of malachite, initialled in like
+fashion. On another small table stood Zuleika’s library. Both books were
+in covers of dull gold. On the back of one cover BRADSHAW, in beryls,
+was encrusted; on the back of the other, A.B.C. GUIDE, in amethysts,
+beryls, chrysoprases, and garnets. And Zuleika’s great cheval-glass
+stood ready to reflect her. Always it travelled with her, in a great
+case specially made for it. It was framed in ivory, and of fluted ivory
+were the slim columns it swung between. Of gold were its twin sconces,
+and four tall tapers stood in each of them.
+
+The door opened, and the Warden, with hospitable words, left his
+grand-daughter at the threshold.
+
+Zuleika wandered to her mirror. “Undress me, Melisande,” she said. Like
+all who are wont to appear by night before the public, she had the habit
+of resting towards sunset.
+
+Presently Melisande withdrew. Her mistress, in a white peignoir tied
+with a blue sash, lay in a great chintz chair, gazing out of the
+bay-window. The quadrangle below was very beautiful, with its walls of
+rugged grey, its cloisters, its grass carpet. But to her it was of no
+more interest than if it had been the rattling court-yard to one of
+those hotels in which she spent her life. She saw it, but heeded it not.
+She seemed to be thinking of herself, or of something she desired, or of
+some one she had never met. There was ennui, and there was wistfulness,
+in her gaze. Yet one would have guessed these things to be transient--to
+be no more than the little shadows that sometimes pass between a bright
+mirror and the brightness it reflects.
+
+Zuleika was not strictly beautiful. Her eyes were a trifle large, and
+their lashes longer than they need have been. An anarchy of small curls
+was her chevelure, a dark upland of misrule, every hair asserting its
+rights over a not discreditable brow. For the rest, her features were
+not at all original. They seemed to have been derived rather from a
+gallimaufry of familiar models. From Madame la Marquise de Saint-Ouen
+came the shapely tilt of the nose. The mouth was a mere replica of
+Cupid’s bow, lacquered scarlet and strung with the littlest pearls.
+No apple-tree, no wall of peaches, had not been robbed, nor any Tyrian
+rose-garden, for the glory of Miss Dobson’s cheeks. Her neck was
+imitation-marble. Her hands and feet were of very mean proportions. She
+had no waist to speak of.
+
+Yet, though a Greek would have railed at her asymmetry, and an
+Elizabethan have called her “gipsy,” Miss Dobson now, in the midst of
+the Edwardian Era, was the toast of two hemispheres. Late in her ‘teens
+she had become an orphan and a governess. Her grandfather had refused
+her appeal for a home or an allowance, on the ground that he would not
+be burdened with the upshot of a marriage which he had once forbidden
+and not yet forgiven. Lately, however, prompted by curiosity or by
+remorse, he had asked her to spend a week or so of his declining
+years with him. And she, “resting” between two engagements--one at
+Hammerstein’s Victoria, N.Y.C., the other at the Folies Bergeres,
+Paris--and having never been in Oxford, had so far let bygones be
+bygones as to come and gratify the old man’s whim.
+
+It may be that she still resented his indifference to those early
+struggles which, even now, she shuddered to recall. For a governess’
+life she had been, indeed, notably unfit. Hard she had thought it, that
+penury should force her back into the school-room she was scarce out of,
+there to champion the sums and maps and conjugations she had never
+tried to master. Hating her work, she had failed signally to pick up
+any learning from her little pupils, and had been driven from house
+to house, a sullen and most ineffectual maiden. The sequence of her
+situations was the swifter by reason of her pretty face. Was there a
+grown-up son, always he fell in love with her, and she would let his
+eyes trifle boldly with hers across the dinner-table. When he offered
+her his hand, she would refuse it--not because she “knew her place,”
+ but because she did not love him. Even had she been a good teacher, her
+presence could not have been tolerated thereafter. Her corded trunk,
+heavier by another packet of billets-doux and a month’s salary in
+advance, was soon carried up the stairs of some other house.
+
+It chanced that she came, at length, to be governess in a large family
+that had Gibbs for its name and Notting Hill for its background. Edward,
+the eldest son, was a clerk in the city, who spent his evenings in the
+practice of amateur conjuring. He was a freckled youth, with hair that
+bristled in places where it should have lain smooth, and he fell in love
+with Zuleika duly, at first sight, during high-tea. In the course of the
+evening, he sought to win her admiration by a display of all his tricks.
+These were familiar to this household, and the children had been sent
+to bed, the mother was dozing, long before the seance was at an end. But
+Miss Dobson, unaccustomed to any gaieties, sat fascinated by the young
+man’s sleight of hand, marvelling that a top-hat could hold so many
+goldfish, and a handkerchief turn so swiftly into a silver florin. All
+that night, she lay wide awake, haunted by the miracles he had wrought.
+Next evening, when she asked him to repeat them, “Nay,” he whispered,
+“I cannot bear to deceive the girl I love. Permit me to explain the
+tricks.” So he explained them. His eyes sought hers across the bowl of
+gold-fish, his fingers trembled as he taught her to manipulate the magic
+canister. One by one, she mastered the paltry secrets. Her respect for
+him waned with every revelation. He complimented her on her skill. “I
+could not do it more neatly myself!” he said. “Oh, dear Miss Dobson,
+will you but accept my hand, all these things shall be yours--the cards,
+the canister, the goldfish, the demon egg-cup--all yours!” Zuleika,
+with ravishing coyness, answered that if he would give her them now, she
+would “think it over.” The swain consented, and at bed-time she
+retired with the gift under her arm. In the light of her bedroom candle
+Marguerite hung not in greater ecstasy over the jewel-casket than
+hung Zuleika over the box of tricks. She clasped her hands over the
+tremendous possibilities it held for her--manumission from her bondage,
+wealth, fame, power. Stealthily, so soon as the house slumbered,
+she packed her small outfit, embedding therein the precious gift.
+Noiselessly, she shut the lid of her trunk, corded it, shouldered it,
+stole down the stairs with it. Outside--how that chain had grated!
+and her shoulder, how it was aching!--she soon found a cab. She took
+a night’s sanctuary in some railway-hotel. Next day, she moved into
+a small room in a lodging-house off the Edgware Road, and there for
+a whole week she was sedulous in the practice of her tricks. Then she
+inscribed her name on the books of a “Juvenile Party Entertainments
+Agency.”
+
+The Christmas holidays were at hand, and before long she got an
+engagement. It was a great evening for her. Her repertory was, it must
+be confessed, old and obvious; but the children, in deference to their
+hostess, pretended not to know how the tricks were done, and assumed
+their prettiest airs of wonder and delight. One of them even pretended
+to be frightened, and was led howling from the room. In fact, the whole
+thing went off splendidly. The hostess was charmed, and told Zuleika
+that a glass of lemonade would be served to her in the hall. Other
+engagements soon followed. Zuleika was very, very happy. I cannot claim
+for her that she had a genuine passion for her art. The true conjurer
+finds his guerdon in the consciousness of work done perfectly and for
+its own sake. Lucre and applause are not necessary to him. If he were
+set down, with the materials of his art, on a desert island, he would
+yet be quite happy. He would not cease to produce the barber’s-pole from
+his mouth. To the indifferent winds he would still speak his patter, and
+even in the last throes of starvation would not eat his live rabbit or
+his gold-fish. Zuleika, on a desert island, would have spent most of her
+time in looking for a man’s foot-print. She was, indeed, far too human
+a creature to care much for art. I do not say that she took her work
+lightly. She thought she had genius, and she liked to be told that this
+was so. But mainly she loved her work as a means of mere self-display.
+The frank admiration which, into whatsoever house she entered, the
+grown-up sons flashed on her; their eagerness to see her to the door;
+their impressive way of putting her into her omnibus--these were the
+things she revelled in. She was a nymph to whom men’s admiration was the
+greater part of life. By day, whenever she went into the streets,
+she was conscious that no man passed her without a stare; and this
+consciousness gave a sharp zest to her outings. Sometimes she was
+followed to her door--crude flattery which she was too innocent to fear.
+Even when she went into the haberdasher’s to make some little purchase
+of tape or riband, or into the grocer’s--for she was an epicure in her
+humble way--to buy a tin of potted meat for her supper, the homage of
+the young men behind the counter did flatter and exhilarate her. As the
+homage of men became for her, more and more, a matter of course, the
+more subtly necessary was it to her happiness. The more she won of it,
+the more she treasured it. She was alone in the world, and it saved her
+from any moment of regret that she had neither home nor friends. For
+her the streets that lay around her had no squalor, since she paced them
+always in the gold nimbus of her fascinations. Her bedroom seemed not
+mean nor lonely to her, since the little square of glass, nailed above
+the wash-stand, was ever there to reflect her face. Thereinto, indeed,
+she was ever peering. She would droop her head from side to side, she
+would bend it forward and see herself from beneath her eyelashes, then
+tilt it back and watch herself over her supercilious chin. And she would
+smile, frown, pout, languish--let all the emotions hover upon her face;
+and always she seemed to herself lovelier than she had ever been.
+
+Yet was there nothing Narcissine in her spirit. Her love for her own
+image was not cold aestheticism. She valued that image not for its own
+sake, but for sake of the glory it always won for her. In the little
+remote music-hall, where she was soon appearing nightly as an “early
+turn,” she reaped glory in a nightly harvest. She could feel that all
+the gallery-boys, because of her, were scornful of the sweethearts
+wedged between them, and she knew that she had but to say “Will any
+gentleman in the audience be so good as to lend me his hat?” for the
+stalls to rise as one man and rush towards the platform. But greater
+things were in store for her. She was engaged at two halls in the West
+End. Her horizon was fast receding and expanding. Homage became nightly
+tangible in bouquets, rings, brooches--things acceptable and (luckier
+than their donors) accepted. Even Sunday was not barren for Zuleika:
+modish hostesses gave her postprandially to their guests. Came that
+Sunday night, notanda candidissimo calculo! when she received certain
+guttural compliments which made absolute her vogue and enabled her to
+command, thenceforth, whatever terms she asked for.
+
+Already, indeed, she was rich. She was living at the most exorbitant
+hotel in all Mayfair. She had innumerable gowns and no necessity to buy
+jewels; and she also had, which pleased her most, the fine cheval-glass
+I have described. At the close of the Season, Paris claimed her for
+a month’s engagement. Paris saw her and was prostrate. Boldini did a
+portrait of her. Jules Bloch wrote a song about her; and this, for a
+whole month, was howled up and down the cobbled alleys of Montmartre.
+And all the little dandies were mad for “la Zuleika.” The jewellers
+of the Rue de la Paix soon had nothing left to put in their
+windows--everything had been bought for “la Zuleika.” For a whole month,
+baccarat was not played at the Jockey Club--every member had succumbed
+to a nobler passion. For a whole month, the whole demi-monde was
+forgotten for one English virgin. Never, even in Paris, had a woman
+triumphed so. When the day came for her departure, the city wore such an
+air of sullen mourning as it had not worn since the Prussians marched to
+its Elysee. Zuleika, quite untouched, would not linger in the conquered
+city. Agents had come to her from every capital in Europe, and, for a
+year, she ranged, in triumphal nomady, from one capital to another. In
+Berlin, every night, the students escorted her home with torches. Prince
+Vierfuenfsechs-Siebenachtneun offered her his hand, and was condemned
+by the Kaiser to six months’ confinement in his little castle. In Yildiz
+Kiosk, the tyrant who still throve there conferred on her the Order of
+Chastity, and offered her the central couch in his seraglio. She
+gave her performance in the Quirinal, and, from the Vatican, the Pope
+launched against her a Bull which fell utterly flat. In Petersburg, the
+Grand Duke Salamander Salamandrovitch fell enamoured of her. Of every
+article in the apparatus of her conjuring-tricks he caused a replica
+to be made in finest gold. These treasures he presented to her in that
+great malachite casket which now stood on the little table in her room;
+and thenceforth it was with these that she performed her wonders.
+They did not mark the limit of the Grand Duke’s generosity. He was for
+bestowing on Zuleika the half of his immensurable estates. The Grand
+Duchess appealed to the Tzar. Zuleika was conducted across the frontier,
+by an escort of love-sick Cossacks. On the Sunday before she left
+Madrid, a great bull-fight was held in her honour. Fifteen bulls
+received the coup-de-grace, and Alvarez, the matador of matadors, died
+in the arena with her name on his lips. He had tried to kill the
+last bull without taking his eyes off la divina senorita. A prettier
+compliment had never been paid her, and she was immensely pleased with
+it. For that matter, she was immensely pleased with everything. She
+moved proudly to the incessant music of a paean, aye! of a paean that
+was always crescendo.
+
+Its echoes followed her when she crossed the Atlantic, till they were
+lost in the louder, deeper, more blatant paean that rose for her from
+the shores beyond. All the stops of that “mighty organ, many-piped,” the
+New York press, were pulled out simultaneously, as far as they could be
+pulled, in Zuleika’s honour. She delighted in the din. She read every
+line that was printed about her, tasting her triumph as she had never
+tasted it before. And how she revelled in the Brobdingnagian drawings of
+her, which, printed in nineteen colours, towered between the columns or
+sprawled across them! There she was, measuring herself back to back with
+the Statue of Liberty; scudding through the firmament on a comet,
+whilst a crowd of tiny men in evening-dress stared up at her from the
+terrestrial globe; peering through a microscope held by Cupid over a
+diminutive Uncle Sam; teaching the American Eagle to stand on its head;
+and doing a hundred-and-one other things--whatever suggested itself
+to the fancy of native art. And through all this iridescent maze of
+symbolism were scattered many little slabs of realism. At home, on the
+street, Zuleika was the smiling target of all snap-shooters, and all the
+snap-shots were snapped up by the press and reproduced with annotations:
+Zuleika Dobson walking on Broadway in the sables gifted her by Grand
+Duke Salamander--she says “You can bounce blizzards in them”; Zuleika
+Dobson yawning over a love-letter from millionaire Edelweiss; relishing
+a cup of clam-broth--she says “They don’t use clams out there”; ordering
+her maid to fix her a warm bath; finding a split in the gloves she has
+just drawn on before starting for the musicale given in her honour by
+Mrs. Suetonius X. Meistersinger, the most exclusive woman in New York;
+chatting at the telephone to Miss Camille Van Spook, the best-born girl
+in New York; laughing over the recollection of a compliment made her by
+George Abimelech Post, the best-groomed man in New York; meditating a
+new trick; admonishing a waiter who has upset a cocktail over her skirt;
+having herself manicured; drinking tea in bed. Thus was Zuleika enabled
+daily to be, as one might say, a spectator of her own wonderful life.
+On her departure from New York, the papers spoke no more than the
+truth when they said she had had “a lovely time.” The further she went
+West--millionaire Edelweiss had loaned her his private car--the lovelier
+her time was. Chicago drowned the echoes of New York; final Frisco
+dwarfed the headlines of Chicago. Like one of its own prairie-fires, she
+swept the country from end to end. Then she swept back, and sailed for
+England. She was to return for a second season in the coming Fall. At
+present, she was, as I have said, “resting.”
+
+As she sat here in the bay-window of her room, she was not reviewing
+the splendid pageant of her past. She was a young person whose reveries
+never were in retrospect. For her the past was no treasury of distinct
+memories, all hoarded and classified, some brighter than others and more
+highly valued. All memories were for her but as the motes in one fused
+radiance that followed her and made more luminous the pathway of
+her future. She was always looking forward. She was looking forward
+now--that shade of ennui had passed from her face--to the week she was
+to spend in Oxford. A new city was a new toy to her, and--for it was
+youth’s homage that she loved best--this city of youths was a toy after
+her own heart.
+
+Aye, and it was youths who gave homage to her most freely. She was
+of that high-stepping and flamboyant type that captivates youth most
+surely. Old men and men of middle age admired her, but she had not that
+flower-like quality of shyness and helplessness, that look of innocence,
+so dear to men who carry life’s secrets in their heads. Yet Zuleika
+WAS very innocent, really. She was as pure as that young shepherdess
+Marcella, who, all unguarded, roved the mountains and was by all the
+shepherds adored. Like Marcella, she had given her heart to no man, had
+preferred none. Youths were reputed to have died for love of her,
+as Chrysostom died for love of the shepherdess; and she, like the
+shepherdess, had shed no tear. When Chrysostom was lying on his bier in
+the valley, and Marcella looked down from the high rock, Ambrosio,
+the dead man’s comrade, cried out on her, upbraiding her with bitter
+words--“Oh basilisk of our mountains!” Nor do I think Ambrosio spoke too
+strongly. Marcella cared nothing for men’s admiration, and yet, instead
+of retiring to one of those nunneries which are founded for her kind,
+she chose to rove the mountains, causing despair to all the shepherds.
+Zuleika, with her peculiar temperament, would have gone mad in a
+nunnery. “But,” you may argue, “ought not she to have taken the veil,
+even at the cost of her reason, rather than cause so much despair in the
+world? If Marcella was a basilisk, as you seem to think, how about Miss
+Dobson?” Ah, but Marcella knew quite well, boasted even, that she never
+would or could love any man. Zuleika, on the other hand, was a woman of
+really passionate fibre. She may not have had that conscious, separate,
+and quite explicit desire to be a mother with which modern playwrights
+credit every unmated member of her sex. But she did know that she could
+love. And, surely, no woman who knows that of herself can be rightly
+censured for not recluding herself from the world: it is only women
+without the power to love who have no right to provoke men’s love.
+
+Though Zuleika had never given her heart, strong in her were the desire
+and the need that it should be given. Whithersoever she had fared, she
+had seen nothing but youths fatuously prostrate to her--not one upright
+figure which she could respect. There were the middle-aged men, the old
+men, who did not bow down to her; but from middle-age, as from eld, she
+had a sanguine aversion. She could love none but a youth. Nor--though
+she herself, womanly, would utterly abase herself before her
+ideal--could she love one who fell prone before her. And before her all
+youths always did fall prone. She was an empress, and all youths were
+her slaves. Their bondage delighted her, as I have said. But no empress
+who has any pride can adore one of her slaves. Whom, then, could proud
+Zuleika adore? It was a question which sometimes troubled her. There
+were even moments when, looking into her cheval-glass, she cried out
+against that arrangement in comely lines and tints which got for her
+the dulia she delighted in. To be able to love once--would not that be
+better than all the homage in the world? But would she ever meet whom,
+looking up to him, she could love--she, the omnisubjugant? Would she
+ever, ever meet him?
+
+It was when she wondered thus, that the wistfulness came into her eyes.
+Even now, as she sat by the window, that shadow returned to them. She
+was wondering, shyly, had she met him at length? That young equestrian
+who had not turned to look at her; whom she was to meet at dinner
+to-night... was it he? The ends of her blue sash lay across her lap,
+and she was lazily unravelling their fringes. “Blue and white!” she
+remembered. “They were the colours he wore round his hat.” And she gave
+a little laugh of coquetry. She laughed, and, long after, her lips were
+still parted in a smile.
+
+So did she sit, smiling, wondering, with the fringes of her sash
+between her fingers, while the sun sank behind the opposite wall of the
+quadrangle, and the shadows crept out across the grass, thirsty for the
+dew.
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+The clock in the Warden’s drawing-room had just struck eight, and
+already the ducal feet were beautiful on the white bearskin hearthrug.
+So slim and long were they, of instep so nobly arched, that only with
+a pair of glazed ox-tongues on a breakfast-table were they comparable.
+Incomparable quite, the figure and face and vesture of him who ended in
+them.
+
+The Warden was talking to him, with all the deference of elderly
+commoner to patrician boy. The other guests--an Oriel don and his
+wife--were listening with earnest smile and submissive droop, at a
+slight distance. Now and again, to put themselves at their ease, they
+exchanged in undertone a word or two about the weather.
+
+“The young lady whom you may have noticed with me,” the Warden was
+saying, “is my orphaned grand-daughter.” (The wife of the Oriel don
+discarded her smile, and sighed, with a glance at the Duke, who was
+himself an orphan.) “She has come to stay with me.” (The Duke glanced
+quickly round the room.) “I cannot think why she is not down yet.” (The
+Oriel don fixed his eyes on the clock, as though he suspected it of
+being fast.) “I must ask you to forgive her. She appears to be a bright,
+pleasant young woman.”
+
+“Married?” asked the Duke.
+
+“No,” said the Warden; and a cloud of annoyance crossed the boy’s face.
+“No; she devotes her life entirely to good works.”
+
+“A hospital nurse?” the Duke murmured.
+
+“No, Zuleika’s appointed task is to induce delightful wonder rather than
+to alleviate pain. She performs conjuring-tricks.”
+
+“Not--not Miss Zuleika Dobson?” cried the Duke.
+
+“Ah yes. I forgot that she had achieved some fame in the outer world.
+Perhaps she has already met you?”
+
+“Never,” said the young man coldly. “But of course I have heard of Miss
+Dobson. I did not know she was related to you.”
+
+The Duke had an intense horror of unmarried girls. All his vacations
+were spent in eluding them and their chaperons. That he should be
+confronted with one of them--with such an one of them!--in Oxford,
+seemed to him sheer violation of sanctuary. The tone, therefore, in
+which he said “I shall be charmed,” in answer to the Warden’s request
+that he would take Zuleika into dinner, was very glacial. So was his
+gaze when, a moment later, the young lady made her entry.
+
+“She did not look like an orphan,” said the wife of the Oriel don,
+subsequently, on the way home. The criticism was a just one. Zuleika
+would have looked singular in one of those lowly double-files of
+straw-bonnets and drab cloaks which are so steadying a feature of
+our social system. Tall and lissom, she was sheathed from the bosom
+downwards in flamingo silk, and she was liberally festooned with
+emeralds. Her dark hair was not even strained back from her forehead and
+behind her ears, as an orphan’s should be. Parted somewhere at the side,
+it fell in an avalanche of curls upon one eyebrow. From her right
+ear drooped heavily a black pearl, from her left a pink; and their
+difference gave an odd, bewildering witchery to the little face between.
+
+Was the young Duke bewitched? Instantly, utterly. But none could
+have guessed as much from his cold stare, his easy and impassive bow.
+Throughout dinner, none guessed that his shirt-front was but the screen
+of a fierce warfare waged between pride and passion. Zuleika, at the
+foot of the table, fondly supposed him indifferent to her. Though he
+sat on her right, not one word or glance would he give her. All his
+conversation was addressed to the unassuming lady who sat on his other
+side, next to the Warden. Her he edified and flustered beyond measure
+by his insistent courtesy. Her husband, alone on the other side of
+the table, was mortified by his utter failure to engage Zuleika in
+small-talk. Zuleika was sitting with her profile turned to him--the
+profile with the pink pearl--and was gazing full at the young Duke. She
+was hardly more affable than a cameo. “Yes,” “No,” “I don’t know,”
+ were the only answers she would vouchsafe to his questions. A vague “Oh
+really?” was all he got for his timid little offerings of information.
+In vain he started the topic of modern conjuring-tricks as compared with
+the conjuring-tricks performed by the ancient Egyptians. Zuleika did not
+even say “Oh really?” when he told her about the metamorphosis of the
+bulls in the Temple of Osiris. He primed himself with a glass of sherry,
+cleared his throat. “And what,” he asked, with a note of firmness, “did
+you think of our cousins across the water?” Zuleika said “Yes;” and
+then he gave in. Nor was she conscious that he ceased talking to her. At
+intervals throughout the rest of dinner, she murmured “Yes,” and “No,”
+ and “Oh really?” though the poor little don was now listening silently
+to the Duke and the Warden.
+
+She was in a trance of sheer happiness. At last, she thought, her hope
+was fulfilled--that hope which, although she had seldom remembered it in
+the joy of her constant triumphs, had been always lurking in her, lying
+near to her heart and chafing her, like the shift of sackcloth which
+that young brilliant girl, loved and lost of Giacopone di Todi, wore
+always in secret submission to her own soul, under the fair soft robes
+and the rubies men saw on her. At last, here was the youth who would not
+bow down to her; whom, looking up to him, she could adore. She ate and
+drank automatically, never taking her gaze from him. She felt not one
+touch of pique at his behaviour. She was tremulous with a joy that was
+new to her, greater than any joy she had known. Her soul was as a flower
+in its opetide. She was in love. Rapt, she studied every lineament of
+the pale and perfect face--the brow from which bronze-coloured hair rose
+in tiers of burnished ripples; the large steel-coloured eyes, with their
+carven lids; the carven nose, and the plastic lips. She noted how long
+and slim were his fingers, and how slender his wrists. She noted the
+glint cast by the candles upon his shirt-front. The two large white
+pearls there seemed to her symbols of his nature. They were like two
+moons: cold, remote, radiant. Even when she gazed at the Duke’s face,
+she was aware of them in her vision.
+
+Nor was the Duke unconscious, as he seemed to be, of her scrutiny.
+Though he kept his head averse, he knew that always her eyes were
+watching him. Obliquely, he saw them; saw, too, the contour of the face,
+and the black pearl and the pink; could not blind himself, try as he
+would. And he knew that he was in love.
+
+Like Zuleika herself, this young Duke was in love for the first time.
+Wooed though he had been by almost as many maidens as she by youths, his
+heart, like hers, had remained cold. But he had never felt, as she
+had, the desire to love. He was not now rejoicing, as she was, in the
+sensation of first love; nay, he was furiously mortified by it, and
+struggled with all his might against it. He had always fancied himself
+secure against any so vulgar peril; always fancied that by him at least,
+the proud old motto of his family--“Pas si bete”--would not be belied.
+And I daresay, indeed, that had he never met Zuleika, the irresistible,
+he would have lived, and at a very ripe old age died, a dandy without
+reproach. For in him the dandiacal temper had been absolute hitherto,
+quite untainted and unruffled. He was too much concerned with his
+own perfection ever to think of admiring any one else. Different from
+Zuleika, he cared for his wardrobe and his toilet-table not as a means
+to making others admire him the more, but merely as a means through
+which he could intensify, a ritual in which to express and realise, his
+own idolatry. At Eton he had been called “Peacock,” and this nick-name
+had followed him up to Oxford. It was not wholly apposite, however. For,
+whereas the peacock is a fool even among birds, the Duke had already
+taken (besides a particularly brilliant First in Mods) the Stanhope,
+the Newdigate, the Lothian, and the Gaisford Prize for Greek Verse. And
+these things he had achieved currente calamo, “wielding his pen,” as
+Scott said of Byron, “with the easy negligence of a nobleman.” He was
+now in his third year of residence, and was reading, a little, for
+Literae Humaniores. There is no doubt that but for his untimely death he
+would have taken a particularly brilliant First in that school also.
+
+For the rest, he had many accomplishments. He was adroit in the killing
+of all birds and fishes, stags and foxes. He played polo, cricket,
+racquets, chess, and billiards as well as such things can be played.
+He was fluent in all modern languages, had a very real talent in
+water-colour, and was accounted, by those who had had the privilege of
+hearing him, the best amateur pianist on this side of the Tweed. Little
+wonder, then, that he was idolised by the undergraduates of his day.
+He did not, however, honour many of them with his friendship. He had a
+theoretic liking for them as a class, as the “young barbarians all at
+play” in that little antique city; but individually they jarred on him,
+and he saw little of them. Yet he sympathised with them always, and, on
+occasion, would actively take their part against the dons. In the middle
+of his second year, he had gone so far that a College Meeting had to be
+held, and he was sent down for the rest of term. The Warden placed his
+own landau at the disposal of the illustrious young exile, who therein
+was driven to the station, followed by a long, vociferous procession
+of undergraduates in cabs. Now, it happened that this was a time of
+political excitement in London. The Liberals, who were in power,
+had passed through the House of Commons a measure more than usually
+socialistic; and this measure was down for its second reading in the
+Lords on the very day that the Duke left Oxford, an exile. It was but a
+few weeks since he had taken his seat in the Lords; and this afternoon,
+for the want of anything better to do, he strayed in. The Leader of the
+House was already droning his speech for the bill, and the Duke found
+himself on one of the opposite benches. There sat his compeers, sullenly
+waiting to vote for a bill which every one of them detested. As the
+speaker subsided, the Duke, for the fun of the thing, rose. He made
+a long speech against the bill. His gibes at the Government were so
+scathing, so utterly destructive his criticism of the bill itself, so
+lofty and so irresistible the flights of his eloquence, that, when he
+resumed his seat, there was only one course left to the Leader of the
+House. He rose and, in a few husky phrases, moved that the bill “be read
+this day six months.” All England rang with the name of the young Duke.
+He himself seemed to be the one person unmoved by his exploit. He did
+not re-appear in the Upper Chamber, and was heard to speak in slighting
+terms of its architecture, as well as of its upholstery. Nevertheless,
+the Prime Minister became so nervous that he procured for him, a month
+later, the Sovereign’s offer of a Garter which had just fallen vacant.
+The Duke accepted it. He was, I understand, the only undergraduate on
+whom this Order had ever been conferred. He was very much pleased with
+the insignia, and when, on great occasions, he wore them, no one dared
+say that the Prime Minister’s choice was not fully justified. But you
+must not imagine that he cared for them as symbols of achievement and
+power. The dark blue riband, and the star scintillating to eight
+points, the heavy mantle of blue velvet, with its lining of taffeta
+and shoulder-knots of white satin, the crimson surcoat, the great
+embullioned tassels, and the chain of linked gold, and the plumes of
+ostrich and heron uprising from the black velvet hat--these things had
+for him little significance save as a fine setting, a finer setting than
+the most elaborate smoking-suit, for that perfection of aspect which
+the gods had given him. This was indeed the gift he valued beyond
+all others. He knew well, however, that women care little for a man’s
+appearance, and that what they seek in a man is strength of character,
+and rank, and wealth. These three gifts the Duke had in a high degree,
+and he was by women much courted because of them. Conscious that every
+maiden he met was eager to be his Duchess, he had assumed always a
+manner of high austerity among maidens, and even if he had wished to
+flirt with Zuleika he would hardly have known how to do it. But he did
+not wish to flirt with her. That she had bewitched him did but make
+it the more needful that he should shun all converse with her. It was
+imperative that he should banish her from his mind, quickly. He must not
+dilute his own soul’s essence. He must not surrender to any passion his
+dandihood. The dandy must be celibate, cloistral; is, indeed, but a monk
+with a mirror for beads and breviary--an anchorite, mortifying his soul
+that his body may be perfect. Till he met Zuleika, the Duke had not
+known the meaning of temptation. He fought now, a St. Anthony, against
+the apparition. He would not look at her, and he hated her. He loved
+her, and he could not help seeing her. The black pearl and the pink
+seemed to dangle ever nearer and clearer to him, mocking him and
+beguiling. Inexpellible was her image.
+
+So fierce was the conflict in him that his outward nonchalance gradually
+gave way. As dinner drew to its close, his conversation with the wife
+of the Oriel don flagged and halted. He sank, at length, into a deep
+silence. He sat with downcast eyes, utterly distracted.
+
+Suddenly, something fell, plump! into the dark whirlpool of his
+thoughts. He started. The Warden was leaning forward, had just said
+something to him.
+
+“I beg your pardon?” asked the Duke. Dessert, he noticed, was on the
+table, and he was paring an apple. The Oriel don was looking at him with
+sympathy, as at one who had swooned and was just “coming to.”
+
+“Is it true, my dear Duke,” the Warden repeated, “that you have been
+persuaded to play to-morrow evening at the Judas concert?”
+
+“Ah yes, I am going to play something.”
+
+Zuleika bent suddenly forward, addressed him. “Oh,” she cried, clasping
+her hands beneath her chin, “will you let me come and turn over the
+leaves for you?”
+
+He looked her full in the face. It was like seeing suddenly at close
+quarters some great bright monument that one has long known only as a
+sun-caught speck in the distance. He saw the large violet eyes open to
+him, and their lashes curling to him; the vivid parted lips; and the
+black pearl, and the pink.
+
+“You are very kind,” he murmured, in a voice which sounded to him quite
+far away. “But I always play without notes.”
+
+Zuleika blushed. Not with shame, but with delirious pleasure. For that
+snub she would just then have bartered all the homage she had hoarded.
+This, she felt, was the climax. She would not outstay it. She rose,
+smiling to the wife of the Oriel don. Every one rose. The Oriel don held
+open the door, and the two ladies passed out of the room.
+
+The Duke drew out his cigarette case. As he looked down at the
+cigarettes, he was vaguely conscious of some strange phenomenon
+somewhere between them and his eyes. Foredone by the agitation of the
+past hour, he did not at once realise what it was that he saw. His
+impression was of something in bad taste, some discord in his costume
+... a black pearl and a pink pearl in his shirt-front!
+
+Just for a moment, absurdly over-estimating poor Zuleika’s skill, he
+supposed himself a victim of legerdemain. Another moment, and the import
+of the studs revealed itself. He staggered up from his chair, covering
+his breast with one arm, and murmured that he was faint. As he hurried
+from the room, the Oriel don was pouring out a tumbler of water and
+suggesting burnt feathers. The Warden, solicitous, followed him into
+the hall. He snatched up his hat, gasping that he had spent a delightful
+evening--was very sorry--was subject to these attacks. Once outside, he
+took frankly to his heels.
+
+At the corner of the Broad, he looked back over his shoulder. He had
+half expected a scarlet figure skimming in pursuit. There was nothing.
+He halted. Before him, the Broad lay empty beneath the moon. He went
+slowly, mechanically, to his rooms.
+
+The high grim busts of the Emperors stared down at him, their faces more
+than ever tragically cavernous and distorted. They saw and read in
+that moonlight the symbols on his breast. As he stood on his doorstep,
+waiting for the door to be opened, he must have seemed to them a thing
+for infinite compassion. For were they not privy to the doom that the
+morrow, or the morrow’s morrow, held for him--held not indeed for him
+alone, yet for him especially, as it were, and for him most lamentably?
+
+
+
+
+IV
+
+The breakfast-things were not yet cleared away. A plate streaked with
+fine strains of marmalade, an empty toast-rack, a broken roll--these and
+other things bore witness to a day inaugurated in the right spirit.
+
+Away from them, reclining along his window-seat, was the Duke. Blue
+spirals rose from his cigarette, nothing in the still air to trouble
+them. From their railing, across the road, the Emperors gazed at him.
+
+For a young man, sleep is a sure solvent of distress. There whirls not
+for him in the night any so hideous a phantasmagoria as will not become,
+in the clarity of next morning, a spruce procession for him to lead.
+Brief the vague horror of his awakening; memory sweeps back to him,
+and he sees nothing dreadful after all. “Why not?” is the sun’s bright
+message to him, and “Why not indeed?” his answer. After hours of
+agony and doubt prolonged to cock-crow, sleep had stolen to the Duke’s
+bed-side. He awoke late, with a heavy sense of disaster; but lo! when he
+remembered, everything took on a new aspect. He was in love. “Why not?”
+ He mocked himself for the morbid vigil he had spent in probing and
+vainly binding the wounds of his false pride. The old life was done
+with. He laughed as he stepped into his bath. Why should the disseizin
+of his soul have seemed shameful to him? He had had no soul till it
+passed out of his keeping. His body thrilled to the cold water, his soul
+as to a new sacrament. He was in love, and that was all he wished for...
+There, on the dressing-table, lay the two studs, visible symbols of his
+love. Dear to him, now, the colours of them! He took them in his hand,
+one by one, fondling them. He wished he could wear them in the day-time;
+but this, of course, was impossible. His toilet finished, he dropped
+them into the left pocket of his waistcoat.
+
+Therein, near to his heart, they were lying now, as he looked out at
+the changed world--the world that had become Zuleika. “Zuleika!” his
+recurrent murmur, was really an apostrophe to the whole world.
+
+Piled against the wall were certain boxes of black japanned tin, which
+had just been sent to him from London. At any other time he would
+certainly not have left them unopened. For they contained his robes of
+the Garter. Thursday, the day after to-morrow, was the date fixed for
+the investiture of a foreign king who was now visiting England: and the
+full chapter of Knights had been commanded to Windsor for the ceremony.
+Yesterday the Duke had looked keenly forward to his excursion. It was
+only in those too rarely required robes that he had the sense of being
+fully dressed. But to-day not a thought had he of them.
+
+Some clock clove with silver the stillness of the morning. Ere came the
+second stroke, another and nearer clock was striking. And now there were
+others chiming in. The air was confused with the sweet babel of its many
+spires, some of them booming deep, measured sequences, some tinkling
+impatiently and outwitting others which had begun before them. And when
+this anthem of jealous antiphonies and uneven rhythms had dwindled quite
+away and fainted in one last solitary note of silver, there started
+somewhere another sequence; and this, almost at its last stroke, was
+interrupted by yet another, which went on to tell the hour of noon in
+its own way, quite slowly and significantly, as though none knew it.
+
+And now Oxford was astir with footsteps and laughter--the laughter and
+quick footsteps of youths released from lecture-rooms. The Duke shifted
+from the window. Somehow, he did not care to be observed, though it was
+usually at this hour that he showed himself for the setting of some
+new fashion in costume. Many an undergraduate, looking up, missed the
+picture in the window-frame.
+
+The Duke paced to and fro, smiling ecstatically. He took the two studs
+from his pocket and gazed at them. He looked in the glass, as one
+seeking the sympathy of a familiar. For the first time in his life,
+he turned impatiently aside. It was a new kind of sympathy he needed
+to-day.
+
+The front door slammed, and the staircase creaked to the ascent of two
+heavy boots. The Duke listened, waited irresolute. The boots passed his
+door, were already clumping up the next flight. “Noaks!” he cried. The
+boots paused, then clumped down again. The door opened and disclosed
+that homely figure which Zuleika had seen on her way to Judas.
+
+Sensitive reader, start not at the apparition! Oxford is a plexus of
+anomalies. These two youths were (odd as it may seem to you) subject to
+the same Statutes, affiliated to the same College, reading for the same
+School; aye! and though the one had inherited half a score of noble and
+castellated roofs, whose mere repairs cost him annually thousands and
+thousands of pounds, and the other’s people had but one little mean
+square of lead, from which the fireworks of the Crystal Palace were
+clearly visible every Thursday evening, in Oxford one roof sheltered
+both of them. Furthermore, there was even some measure of intimacy
+between them. It was the Duke’s whim to condescend further in the
+direction of Noaks than in any other. He saw in Noaks his own foil and
+antithesis, and made a point of walking up the High with him at least
+once in every term. Noaks, for his part, regarded the Duke with feelings
+mingled of idolatry and disapproval. The Duke’s First in Mods oppressed
+him (who, by dint of dogged industry, had scraped a Second) more than
+all the other differences between them. But the dullard’s envy of
+brilliant men is always assuaged by the suspicion that they will come to
+a bad end. Noaks may have regarded the Duke as a rather pathetic figure,
+on the whole.
+
+“Come in, Noaks,” said the Duke. “You have been to a lecture?”
+
+“Aristotle’s Politics,” nodded Noaks.
+
+“And what were they?” asked the Duke. He was eager for sympathy in his
+love. But so little used was he to seeking sympathy that he could not
+unburden himself. He temporised. Noaks muttered something about getting
+back to work, and fumbled with the door-handle.
+
+“Oh, my dear fellow, don’t go,” said the Duke. “Sit down. Our Schools
+don’t come on for another year. A few minutes can’t make a difference in
+your Class. I want to--to tell you something, Noaks. Do sit down.”
+
+Noaks sat down on the edge of a chair. The Duke leaned against the
+mantel-piece, facing him. “I suppose, Noaks,” he said, “you have never
+been in love.”
+
+“Why shouldn’t I have been in love?” asked the little man, angrily.
+
+“I can’t imagine you in love,” said the Duke, smiling.
+
+“And I can’t imagine YOU. You’re too pleased with yourself,” growled
+Noaks.
+
+“Spur your imagination, Noaks,” said his friend. “I AM in love.”
+
+“So am I,” was an unexpected answer, and the Duke (whose need of
+sympathy was too new to have taught him sympathy with others) laughed
+aloud. “Whom do you love?” he asked, throwing himself into an arm-chair.
+
+“I don’t know who she is,” was another unexpected answer.
+
+“When did you meet her?” asked the Duke. “Where? What did you say to
+her?”
+
+“Yesterday. In the Corn. I didn’t SAY anything to her.”
+
+“Is she beautiful?”
+
+“Yes. What’s that to you?”
+
+“Dark or fair?”
+
+“She’s dark. She looks like a foreigner. She looks like--like one of
+those photographs in the shop-windows.”
+
+“A rhapsody, Noaks! What became of her? Was she alone?”
+
+“She was with the old Warden, in his carriage.”
+
+Zuleika--Noaks! The Duke started, as at an affront, and glared. Next
+moment, he saw the absurdity of the situation. He relapsed into his
+chair, smiling. “She’s the Warden’s niece,” he said. “I dined at the
+Warden’s last night.”
+
+Noaks sat still, peering across at the Duke. For the first time in his
+life, he was resentful of the Duke’s great elegance and average stature,
+his high lineage and incomputable wealth. Hitherto, these things
+had been too remote for envy. But now, suddenly, they seemed near to
+him--nearer and more overpowering than the First in Mods had ever been.
+“And of course she’s in love with you?” he snarled.
+
+Really, this was for the Duke a new issue. So salient was his own
+passion that he had not had time to wonder whether it were returned.
+Zuleika’s behaviour during dinner... But that was how so many young
+women had behaved. It was no sign of disinterested love. It might mean
+merely... Yet no! Surely, looking into her eyes, he had seen there a
+radiance finer than could have been lit by common ambition. Love, none
+other, must have lit in those purple depths the torches whose clear
+flames had leapt out to him. She loved him. She, the beautiful, the
+wonderful, had not tried to conceal her love for him. She had shown him
+all--had shown all, poor darling! only to be snubbed by a prig, driven
+away by a boor, fled from by a fool. To the nethermost corner of his
+soul, he cursed himself for what he had done, and for all he had left
+undone. He would go to her on his knees. He would implore her to impose
+on him insufferable penances. There was no penance, how bittersweet
+soever, could make him a little worthy of her.
+
+“Come in!” he cried mechanically. Entered the landlady’s daughter.
+
+“A lady downstairs,” she said, “asking to see your Grace. Says she’ll
+step round again later if your Grace is busy.”
+
+“What is her name?” asked the Duke, vacantly. He was gazing at the girl
+with pain-shot eyes.
+
+“Miss Zuleika Dobson,” pronounced the girl.
+
+He rose.
+
+“Show Miss Dobson up,” he said.
+
+Noaks had darted to the looking-glass and was smoothing his hair with a
+tremulous, enormous hand.
+
+“Go!” said the Duke, pointing to the door. Noaks went, quickly. Echoes
+of his boots fell from the upper stairs and met the ascending susurrus
+of a silk skirt.
+
+The lovers met. There was an interchange of ordinary greetings: from the
+Duke, a comment on the weather; from Zuleika, a hope that he was well
+again--they had been so sorry to lose him last night. Then came a pause.
+The landlady’s daughter was clearing away the breakfast-things.
+Zuleika glanced comprehensively at the room, and the Duke gazed at the
+hearthrug. The landlady’s daughter clattered out with her freight. They
+were alone.
+
+“How pretty!” said Zuleika. She was looking at his star of the Garter,
+which sparkled from a litter of books and papers on a small side-table.
+
+“Yes,” he answered. “It is pretty, isn’t it?”
+
+“Awfully pretty!” she rejoined.
+
+This dialogue led them to another hollow pause. The Duke’s heart beat
+violently within him. Why had he not asked her to take the star and keep
+it as a gift? Too late now! Why could he not throw himself at her feet?
+Here were two beings, lovers of each other, with none by. And yet...
+
+She was examining a water-colour on the wall, seemed to be absorbed by
+it. He watched her. She was even lovelier than he had remembered;
+or rather her loveliness had been, in some subtle way, transmuted.
+Something had given to her a graver, nobler beauty. Last night’s nymph
+had become the Madonna of this morning. Despite her dress, which was
+of a tremendous tartan, she diffused the pale authentic radiance of a
+spirituality most high, most simple. The Duke wondered where lay the
+change in her. He could not understand. Suddenly she turned to him, and
+he understood. No longer the black pearl and the pink, but two white
+pearls!... He thrilled to his heart’s core.
+
+“I hope,” said Zuleika, “you aren’t awfully vexed with me for coming
+like this?”
+
+“Not at all,” said the Duke. “I am delighted to see you.” How inadequate
+the words sounded, how formal and stupid!
+
+“The fact is,” she continued, “I don’t know a soul in Oxford. And
+I thought perhaps you’d give me luncheon, and take me to see the
+boat-races. Will you?”
+
+“I shall be charmed,” he said, pulling the bell-rope. Poor fool! he
+attributed the shade of disappointment on Zuleika’s face to the coldness
+of his tone. He would dispel that shade. He would avow himself. He would
+leave her no longer in this false position. So soon as he had told them
+about the meal, he would proclaim his passion.
+
+The bell was answered by the landlady’s daughter.
+
+“Miss Dobson will stay to luncheon,” said the Duke. The girl withdrew.
+He wished he could have asked her not to.
+
+He steeled himself. “Miss Dobson,” he said, “I wish to apologise to
+you.”
+
+Zuleika looked at him eagerly. “You can’t give me luncheon? You’ve got
+something better to do?”
+
+“No. I wish to ask you to forgive me for my behaviour last night.”
+
+“There is nothing to forgive.”
+
+“There is. My manners were vile. I know well what happened. Though you,
+too, cannot have forgotten, I won’t spare myself the recital. You were
+my hostess, and I ignored you. Magnanimous, you paid me the prettiest
+compliment woman ever paid to man, and I insulted you. I left the house
+in order that I might not see you again. To the doorsteps down which
+he should have kicked me, your grandfather followed me with words of
+kindliest courtesy. If he had sped me with a kick so skilful that my
+skull had been shattered on the kerb, neither would he have outstepped
+those bounds set to the conduct of English gentlemen, nor would you have
+garnered more than a trifle on account of your proper reckoning. I do
+not say that you are the first person whom I have wantonly injured. But
+it is a fact that I, in whom pride has ever been the topmost quality,
+have never expressed sorrow to any one for anything. Thus, I might urge
+that my present abjectness must be intolerably painful to me, and should
+incline you to forgive. But such an argument were specious merely.
+I will be quite frank with you. I will confess to you that, in this
+humbling of myself before you, I take a pleasure as passionate as it is
+strange. A confusion of feelings? Yet you, with a woman’s instinct, will
+have already caught the clue to it. It needs no mirror to assure me
+that the clue is here for you, in my eyes. It needs no dictionary of
+quotations to remind me that the eyes are the windows of the soul. And I
+know that from two open windows my soul has been leaning and signalling
+to you, in a code far more definitive and swifter than words of mine,
+that I love you.”
+
+Zuleika, listening to him, had grown gradually paler and paler. She had
+raised her hands and cowered as though he were about to strike her. And
+then, as he pronounced the last three words, she had clasped her hands
+to her face and with a wild sob darted away from him. She was leaning
+now against the window, her head bowed and her shoulders quivering.
+
+The Duke came softly behind her. “Why should you cry? Why should you
+turn away from me? Did I frighten you with the suddenness of my words? I
+am not versed in the tricks of wooing. I should have been more patient.
+But I love you so much that I could hardly have waited. A secret hope
+that you loved me too emboldened me, compelled me. You DO love me. I
+know it. And, knowing it, I do but ask you to give yourself to me, to
+be my wife. Why should you cry? Why should you shrink from me? Dear,
+if there were anything... any secret... if you had ever loved and been
+deceived, do you think I should honour you the less deeply, should not
+cherish you the more tenderly? Enough for me, that you are mine. Do you
+think I should ever reproach you for anything that may have--”
+
+Zuleika turned on him. “How dare you?” she gasped. “How dare you speak
+to me like that?”
+
+The Duke reeled back. Horror had come into his eyes. “You do not love
+me!” he cried.
+
+“LOVE you?” she retorted. “YOU?”
+
+“You no longer love me. Why? Why?”
+
+“What do you mean?”
+
+“You loved me. Don’t trifle with me. You came to me loving me with all
+your heart.”
+
+“How do you know?”
+
+“Look in the glass.” She went at his bidding. He followed her. “You
+see them?” he said, after a long pause. Zuleika nodded. The two pearls
+quivered to her nod.
+
+“They were white when you came to me,” he sighed. “They were white
+because you loved me. From them it was that I knew you loved me even as
+I loved you. But their old colours have come back to them. That is how I
+know that your love for me is dead.”
+
+Zuleika stood gazing pensively, twitching the two pearls between her
+fingers. Tears gathered in her eyes. She met the reflection of her
+lover’s eyes, and her tears brimmed over. She buried her face in her
+hands, and sobbed like a child.
+
+Like a child’s, her sobbing ceased quite suddenly. She groped for her
+handkerchief, angrily dried her eyes, and straightened and smoothed
+herself.
+
+“Now I’m going,” she said.
+
+“You came here of your own accord, because you loved me,” said the Duke.
+“And you shall not go till you have told me why you have left off loving
+me.”
+
+“How did you know I loved you?” she asked after a pause. “How did you
+know I hadn’t simply put on another pair of ear-rings?”
+
+The Duke, with a melancholy laugh, drew the two studs from his
+waistcoat-pocket. “These are the studs I wore last night,” he said.
+
+Zuleika gazed at them. “I see,” she said; then, looking up, “When did
+they become like that?”
+
+“It was when you left the dining-room that I saw the change in them.”
+
+“How strange! It was when I went into the drawing-room that I noticed
+mine. I was looking in the glass, and”--She started. “Then you were in
+love with me last night?”
+
+“I began to be in love with you from the moment I saw you.”
+
+“Then how could you have behaved as you did?”
+
+“Because I was a pedant. I tried to ignore you, as pedants always do try
+to ignore any fact they cannot fit into their pet system. The basis
+of my pet system was celibacy. I don’t mean the mere state of being
+a bachelor. I mean celibacy of the soul--egoism, in fact. You have
+converted me from that. I am now a confirmed tuist.”
+
+“How dared you insult me?” she cried, with a stamp of her foot.
+“How dared you make a fool of me before those people? Oh, it is too
+infamous!”
+
+“I have already asked you to forgive me for that. You said there was
+nothing to forgive.”
+
+“I didn’t dream that you were in love with me.”
+
+“What difference can that make?”
+
+“All the difference! All the difference in life!”
+
+“Sit down! You bewilder me,” said the Duke. “Explain yourself!” he
+commanded.
+
+“Isn’t that rather much for a man to ask of a woman?”
+
+“I don’t know. I have no experience of women. In the abstract, it seems
+to me that every man has a right to some explanation from the woman who
+has ruined his life.”
+
+“You are frightfully sorry for yourself,” said Zuleika, with a bitter
+laugh. “Of course it doesn’t occur to you that _I_ am at all to be
+pitied. No! you are blind with selfishness. You love me--I don’t love
+you: that is all you can realise. Probably you think you are the first
+man who has ever fallen on such a plight.”
+
+Said the Duke, bowing over a deprecatory hand, “If there were to pass my
+window one tithe of them whose hearts have been lost to Miss Dobson, I
+should win no solace from that interminable parade.”
+
+Zuleika blushed. “Yet,” she said more gently, “be sure they would all be
+not a little envious of YOU! Not one of them ever touched the surface of
+my heart. You stirred my heart to its very depths. Yes, you made me love
+you madly. The pearls told you no lie. You were my idol--the one thing
+in the wide world to me. You were so different from any man I had ever
+seen except in dreams. You did not make a fool of yourself. I admired
+you. I respected you. I was all afire with adoration of you. And now,”
+ she passed her hand across her eyes, “now it is all over. The idol has
+come sliding down its pedestal to fawn and grovel with all the other
+infatuates in the dust about my feet.”
+
+The Duke looked thoughtfully at her. “I thought,” he said, “that you
+revelled in your power over men’s hearts. I had always heard that you
+lived for admiration.”
+
+“Oh,” said Zuleika, “of course I like being admired. Oh yes, I like all
+that very much indeed. In a way, I suppose, I’m even pleased that
+YOU admire me. But oh, what a little miserable pleasure that is in
+comparison with the rapture I have forfeited! I had never known the
+rapture of being in love. I had longed for it, but I had never guessed
+how wonderfully wonderful it was. It came to me. I shuddered and wavered
+like a fountain in the wind. I was more helpless and flew lightlier
+than a shred of thistledown among the stars. All night long, I could not
+sleep for love of you; nor had I any desire of sleep, save that it might
+take me to you in a dream. I remember nothing that happened to me this
+morning before I found myself at your door.”
+
+“Why did you ring the bell? Why didn’t you walk away?”
+
+“Why? I had come to see you, to be near you, to be WITH you.”
+
+“To force yourself on me.”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“You know the meaning of the term ‘effective occupation’? Having marched
+in, how could you have held your position, unless”--
+
+“Oh, a man doesn’t necessarily drive a woman away because he isn’t in
+love with her.”
+
+“Yet that was what you thought I had done to you last night.”
+
+“Yes, but I didn’t suppose you would take the trouble to do it again.
+And if you had, I should have only loved you the more. I thought you
+would most likely be rather amused, rather touched, by my importunity. I
+thought you would take a listless advantage, make a plaything of me--the
+diversion of a few idle hours in summer, and then, when you had tired
+of me, would cast me aside, forget me, break my heart. I desired nothing
+better than that. That is what I must have been vaguely hoping for. But
+I had no definite scheme. I wanted to be with you and I came to you. It
+seems years ago, now! How my heart beat as I waited on the doorstep! ‘Is
+his Grace at home?’ ‘I don’t know. I’ll inquire. What name shall I say?’
+I saw in the girl’s eyes that she, too, loved you. Have YOU seen that?”
+
+“I have never looked at her,” said the Duke.
+
+“No wonder, then, that she loves you,” sighed Zuleika. “She read my
+secret at a glance. Women who love the same man have a kind of bitter
+freemasonry. We resented each other. She envied me my beauty, my dress.
+I envied the little fool her privilege of being always near to you.
+Loving you, I could conceive no life sweeter than hers--to be always
+near you; to black your boots, carry up your coals, scrub your doorstep;
+always to be working for you, hard and humbly and without thanks. If you
+had refused to see me, I would have bribed that girl with all my jewels
+to cede me her position.”
+
+The Duke made a step towards her. “You would do it still,” he said in a
+low voice.
+
+Zuleika raised her eyebrows. “I would not offer her one garnet,” she
+said, “now.”
+
+“You SHALL love me again,” he cried. “I will force you to. You said just
+now that you had ceased to love me because I was just like other men. I
+am not. My heart is no tablet of mere wax, from which an instant’s heat
+can dissolve whatever impress it may bear, leaving it blank and soft
+for another impress, and another, and another. My heart is a bright hard
+gem, proof against any die. Came Cupid, with one of his arrow-points
+for graver, and what he cut on the gem’s surface never can be effaced.
+There, deeply and forever, your image is intagliated. No years, nor
+fires, nor cataclysm of total Nature, can efface from that great gem
+your image.”
+
+“My dear Duke,” said Zuleika, “don’t be so silly. Look at the matter
+sensibly. I know that lovers don’t try to regulate their emotions
+according to logic; but they do, nevertheless, unconsciously conform
+with some sort of logical system. I left off loving you when I found
+that you loved me. There is the premiss. Very well! Is it likely that I
+shall begin to love you again because you can’t leave off loving me?”
+
+The Duke groaned. There was a clatter of plates outside, and she whom
+Zuleika had envied came to lay the table for luncheon.
+
+A smile flickered across Zuleika’s lips; and “Not one garnet!” she
+murmured.
+
+
+
+
+V
+
+Luncheon passed in almost unbroken silence. Both Zuleika and the Duke
+were ravenously hungry, as people always are after the stress of any
+great emotional crisis. Between them, they made very short work of
+a cold chicken, a salad, a gooseberry-tart and a Camembert. The Duke
+filled his glass again and again. The cold classicism of his face had
+been routed by the new romantic movement which had swept over his soul.
+He looked two or three months older than when first I showed him to my
+reader.
+
+He drank his coffee at one draught, pushed back his chair, threw away
+the cigarette he had just lit. “Listen!” he said.
+
+Zuleika folded her hands on her lap.
+
+“You do not love me. I accept as final your hint that you never will
+love me. I need not say--could not, indeed, ever say--how deeply, deeply
+you have pained me. As lover, I am rejected. But that rejection,” he
+continued, striking the table, “is no stopper to my suit. It does but
+drive me to the use of arguments. My pride shrinks from them. Love,
+however, is greater than pride; and I, John, Albert, Edward, Claude,
+Orde, Angus, Tankerton,* Tanville-Tankerton,** fourteenth Duke of
+Dorset, Marquis of Dorset, Earl of Grove, Earl of Chastermaine, Viscount
+Brewsby, Baron Grove, Baron Petstrap, and Baron Wolock, in the Peerage
+of England, offer you my hand. Do not interrupt me. Do not toss your
+head. Consider well what I am saying. Weigh the advantages you would
+gain by acceptance of my hand. Indeed, they are manifold and tremendous.
+They are also obvious: do not shut your eyes to them. You, Miss Dobson,
+what are you? A conjurer, and a vagrant; without means, save such as you
+can earn by the sleight of your hand; without position; without a
+home; all unguarded but by your own self-respect. That you follow an
+honourable calling, I do not for one moment deny. I do, however, ask
+you to consider how great are its perils and hardships, its fatigues and
+inconveniences. From all these evils I offer you instant refuge. I offer
+you, Miss Dobson, a refuge more glorious and more augustly gilded
+than you, in your airiest flights of fancy, can ever have hoped for or
+imagined. I own about 340,000 acres. My town-residence is in St. James’s
+Square. Tankerton, of which you may have seen photographs, is the chief
+of my country-seats. It is a Tudor house, set on the ridge of a valley.
+The valley, its park, is halved by a stream so narrow that the deer leap
+across. The gardens are estraded upon the slope. Round the house runs
+a wide paven terrace. There are always two or three peacocks trailing
+their sheathed feathers along the balustrade, and stepping how stiffly!
+as though they had just been unharnessed from Juno’s chariot. Two
+flights of shallow steps lead down to the flowers and fountains. Oh,
+the gardens are wonderful. There is a Jacobean garden of white roses.
+Between the ends of two pleached alleys, under a dome of branches, is
+a little lake, with a Triton of black marble, and with water-lilies.
+Hither and thither under the archipelago of water-lilies, dart
+gold-fish--tongues of flame in the dark water. There is also a long
+strait alley of clipped yew. It ends in an alcove for a pagoda
+of painted porcelain which the Prince Regent--peace be to his
+ashes!--presented to my great-grandfather. There are many twisting
+paths, and sudden aspects, and devious, fantastic arbours. Are you fond
+of horses? In my stables of pine-wood and plated-silver seventy are
+installed. Not all of them together could vie in power with one of the
+meanest of my motor-cars.”
+
+   *Pronounced as Tacton.
+
+  **Pronounced as Tavvle-Tacton.
+
+“Oh, I never go in motors,” said Zuleika. “They make one look like
+nothing on earth, and like everybody else.”
+
+“I myself,” said the Duke, “use them little for that very reason. Are
+you interested in farming? At Tankerton there is a model farm which
+would at any rate amuse you, with its heifers and hens and pigs that are
+like so many big new toys. There is a tiny dairy, which is called ‘Her
+Grace’s.’ You could make, therein, real butter with your own hands, and
+round it into little pats, and press every pat with a different device.
+The boudoir that would be yours is a blue room. Four Watteaus hang in
+it. In the dining-hall hang portraits of my forefathers--in petto,
+your forefathers-in-law--by many masters. Are you fond of peasants?
+My tenantry are delightful creatures, and there is not one of them who
+remembers the bringing of the news of the Battle of Waterloo. When a
+new Duchess is brought to Tankerton, the oldest elm in the park must
+be felled. That is one of many strange old customs. As she is driven
+through the village, the children of the tenantry must strew the road
+with daisies. The bridal chamber must be lighted with as many candles as
+years have elapsed since the creation of the Dukedom. If you came into
+it, there would be”--and the youth, closing his eyes, made a rapid
+calculation--“exactly three hundred and eighty-eight candles. On the eve
+of the death of a Duke of Dorset, two black owls come and perch on the
+battlements. They remain there through the night, hooting. At dawn
+they fly away, none knows whither. On the eve of the death of any other
+Tanville-Tankerton, comes (no matter what be the time of year) a cuckoo.
+It stays for an hour, cooing, then flies away, none knows whither.
+Whenever this portent occurs, my steward telegraphs to me, that I, as
+head of the family, be not unsteeled against the shock of a bereavement,
+and that my authority be sooner given for the unsealing and garnishing
+of the family-vault. Not every forefather of mine rests quiet beneath
+his escutcheoned marble. There are they who revisit, in their wrath or
+their remorse, the places wherein erst they suffered or wrought evil.
+There is one who, every Halloween, flits into the dining-hall, and
+hovers before the portrait which Hans Holbein made of him, and flings
+his diaphanous grey form against the canvas, hoping, maybe, to catch
+from it the fiery flesh-tints and the solid limbs that were his, and so
+to be re-incarnate. He flies against the painting, only to find himself
+t’other side of the wall it hangs on. There are five ghosts permanently
+residing in the right wing of the house, two in the left, and eleven in
+the park. But all are quite noiseless and quite harmless. My servants,
+when they meet them in the corridors or on the stairs, stand aside to
+let them pass, thus paying them the respect due to guests of mine; but
+not even the rawest housemaid ever screams or flees at sight of them. I,
+their host, often waylay them and try to commune with them; but always
+they glide past me. And how gracefully they glide, these ghosts! It is a
+pleasure to watch them. It is a lesson in deportment. May they never be
+laid! Of all my household-pets, they are the dearest to me. I am Duke
+of Strathsporran and Cairngorm, Marquis of Sorby, and Earl Cairngorm, in
+the Peerage of Scotland. In the glens of the hills about Strathsporran
+are many noble and nimble stags. But I have never set foot in my house
+there, for it is carpeted throughout with the tartan of my clan. You
+seem to like tartan. What tartan is it you are wearing?”
+
+Zuleika looked down at her skirt. “I don’t know,” she said. “I got it in
+Paris.”
+
+“Well,” said the Duke, “it is very ugly. The Dalbraith tartan is
+harmonious in comparison, and has, at least, the excuse of history. If
+you married me, you would have the right to wear it. You would have many
+strange and fascinating rights. You would go to Court. I admit that the
+Hanoverian Court is not much. Still, it is better than nothing. At your
+presentation, moreover, you would be given the entree. Is that nothing
+to you? You would be driven to Court in my statecoach. It is swung so
+high that the streetsters can hardly see its occupant. It is lined
+with rose-silk; and on its panels, and on its hammer-cloth, my arms
+are emblazoned--no one has ever been able to count the quarterings. You
+would be wearing the family-jewels, reluctantly surrendered to you by my
+aunt. They are many and marvellous, in their antique settings. I don’t
+want to brag. It humiliates me to speak to you as I am speaking. But
+I am heart-set on you, and to win you there is not a precious stone I
+would leave unturned. Conceive a parure all of white stones--diamonds,
+white sapphires, white topazes, tourmalines. Another, of rubies and
+amethysts, set in gold filigree. Rings that once were poison-combs on
+Florentine fingers. Red roses for your hair--every petal a hollowed
+ruby. Amulets and ape-buckles, zones and fillets. Aye! know that you
+would be weeping for wonder before you had seen a tithe of these gauds.
+Know, too, Miss Dobson, that in the Peerage of France I am Duc d’Etretat
+et de la Roche Guillaume. Louis Napoleon gave the title to my father for
+not cutting him in the Bois. I have a house in the Champs Elysees. There
+is a Swiss in its courtyard. He stands six-foot-seven in his stockings,
+and the chasseurs are hardly less tall than he. Wherever I go, there are
+two chefs in my retinue. Both are masters in their art, and furiously
+jealous of each other. When I compliment either of them on some dish,
+the other challenges him. They fight with rapiers, next morning, in the
+garden of whatever house I am occupying. I do not know whether you are
+greedy? If so, it may interest you to learn that I have a third chef,
+who makes only souffles, and an Italian pastry-cook; to say nothing of
+a Spaniard for salads, an Englishwoman for roasts, and an Abyssinian for
+coffee. You found no trace of their handiwork in the meal you have just
+had with me? No; for in Oxford it is a whim of mine--I may say a point
+of honour--to lead the ordinary life of an undergraduate. What I eat
+in this room is cooked by the heavy and unaided hand of Mrs. Batch,
+my landlady. It is set before me by the unaided and--or are you in
+error?--loving hand of her daughter. Other ministers have I none here. I
+dispense with my private secretaries. I am unattended by a single valet.
+So simple a way of life repels you? You would never be called upon to
+share it. If you married me, I should take my name off the books of my
+College. I propose that we should spend our honeymoon at Baiae. I have
+a villa at Baiae. It is there that I keep my grandfather’s collection of
+majolica. The sun shines there always. A long olive-grove secretes the
+garden from the sea. When you walk in the garden, you know the sea only
+in blue glimpses through the vacillating leaves. White-gleaming from the
+bosky shade of this grove are several goddesses. Do you care for Canova?
+I don’t myself. If you do, these figures will appeal to you: they are in
+his best manner. Do you love the sea? This is not the only house of mine
+that looks out on it. On the coast of County Clare--am I not Earl of
+Enniskerry and Baron Shandrin in the Peerage of Ireland?--I have an
+ancient castle. Sheer from a rock stands it, and the sea has always
+raged up against its walls. Many ships lie wrecked under that loud
+implacable sea. But mine is a brave strong castle. No storm affrights
+it; and not the centuries, clustering houris, with their caresses can
+seduce it from its hard austerity. I have several titles which for the
+moment escape me. Baron Llffthwchl am I, and... and... but you can
+find them for yourself in Debrett. In me you behold a Prince of the Holy
+Roman Empire, and a Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Garter. Look
+well at me! I am Hereditary Comber of the Queen’s Lap-Dogs. I am young.
+I am handsome. My temper is sweet, and my character without blemish. In
+fine, Miss Dobson, I am a most desirable parti.”
+
+“But,” said Zuleika, “I don’t love you.”
+
+The Duke stamped his foot. “I beg your pardon,” he said hastily. “I
+ought not to have done that. But--you seem to have entirely missed the
+point of what I was saying.”
+
+“No, I haven’t,” said Zuleika.
+
+“Then what,” cried the Duke, standing over her, “what is your reply?”
+
+Said Zuleika, looking up at him, “My reply is that I think you are an
+awful snob.”
+
+The Duke turned on his heel, and strode to the other end of the room.
+There he stood for some moments, his back to Zuleika.
+
+“I think,” she resumed in a slow, meditative voice, “that you are, with
+the possible exception of a Mr. Edelweiss, THE most awful snob I have
+ever met.”
+
+The Duke looked back over his shoulder. He gave Zuleika the stinging
+reprimand of silence. She was sorry, and showed it in her eyes. She felt
+she had gone too far. True, he was nothing to her now. But she had loved
+him once. She could not forget that.
+
+“Come!” she said. “Let us be good friends. Give me your hand!” He came
+to her, slowly. “There!”
+
+The Duke withdrew his fingers before she unclasped them. That
+twice-flung taunt rankled still. It was monstrous to have been called
+a snob. A snob!--he, whose readiness to form what would certainly be
+regarded as a shocking misalliance ought to have stifled the charge, not
+merely vindicated him from it! He had forgotten, in the blindness of his
+love, how shocking the misalliance would be. Perhaps she, unloving, had
+not been so forgetful? Perhaps her refusal had been made, generously,
+for his own sake. Nay, rather for her own. Evidently, she had felt that
+the high sphere from which he beckoned was no place for the likes of
+her. Evidently, she feared she would pine away among those strange
+splendours, never be acclimatised, always be unworthy. He had thought to
+overwhelm her, and he had done his work too thoroughly. Now he must try
+to lighten the load he had imposed.
+
+Seating himself opposite to her, “You remember,” he said, “that there is
+a dairy at Tankerton?”
+
+“A dairy? Oh yes.”
+
+“Do you remember what it is called?”
+
+Zuleika knit her brows.
+
+He helped her out. “It is called ‘Her Grace’s’.”
+
+“Oh, of course!” said Zuleika.
+
+“Do you know WHY it is called so?”
+
+“Well, let’s see... I know you told me.”
+
+“Did I? I think not. I will tell you now... That cool out-house dates
+from the middle of the eighteenth century. My great-great-grandfather,
+when he was a very old man, married en troisiemes noces a dairy-maid
+on the Tankerton estate. Meg Speedwell was her name. He had seen her
+walking across a field, not many months after the interment of his
+second Duchess, Maria, that great and gifted lady. I know not whether it
+was that her bonny mien fanned in him some embers of his youth, or that
+he was loth to be outdone in gracious eccentricity by his crony the Duke
+of Dewlap, who himself had just taken a bride from a dairy. (You have
+read Meredith’s account of that affair? No? You should.) Whether it was
+veritable love or mere modishness that formed my ancestor’s resolve,
+presently the bells were ringing out, and the oldest elm in the park was
+being felled, in Meg Speedwell’s honour, and the children were strewing
+daisies on which Meg Speedwell trod, a proud young hoyden of a bride,
+with her head in the air and her heart in the seventh heaven. The Duke
+had given her already a horde of fine gifts; but these, he had said,
+were nothing--trash in comparison with the gift that was to ensure for
+her a perdurable felicity. After the wedding-breakfast, when all the
+squires had ridden away on their cobs, and all the squires’ ladies in
+their coaches, the Duke led his bride forth from the hall, leaning on
+her arm, till they came to a little edifice of new white stone, very
+spick and span, with two lattice-windows and a bright green door
+between. This he bade her enter. A-flutter with excitement, she
+turned the handle. In a moment she flounced back, red with shame and
+anger--flounced forth from the fairest, whitest, dapperest dairy,
+wherein was all of the best that the keenest dairy-maid might need. The
+Duke bade her dry her eyes, for that it ill befitted a great lady to be
+weeping on her wedding-day. ‘As for gratitude,’ he chuckled, ‘zounds!
+that is a wine all the better for the keeping.’ Duchess Meg soon forgot
+this unworthy wedding-gift, such was her rapture in the other, the so
+august, appurtenances of her new life. What with her fine silk gowns
+and farthingales, and her powder-closet, and the canopied bed she slept
+in--a bed bigger far than the room she had slept in with her sisters,
+and standing in a room far bigger than her father’s cottage; and
+what with Betty, her maid, who had pinched and teased her at the
+village-school, but now waited on her so meekly and trembled so
+fearfully at a scolding; and what with the fine hot dishes that were set
+before her every day, and the gallant speeches and glances of the fine
+young gentlemen whom the Duke invited from London, Duchess Meg was quite
+the happiest Duchess in all England. For a while, she was like a child
+in a hay-rick. But anon, as the sheer delight of novelty wore away, she
+began to take a more serious view of her position. She began to realise
+her responsibilities. She was determined to do all that a great lady
+ought to do. Twice every day she assumed the vapours. She schooled
+herself in the mysteries of Ombre, of Macao. She spent hours over the
+tambour-frame. She rode out on horse-back, with a riding-master. She had
+a music-master to teach her the spinet; a dancing-master, too, to teach
+her the Minuet and the Triumph and the Gaudy. All these accomplishments
+she found mighty hard. She was afraid of her horse. All the morning, she
+dreaded the hour when it would be brought round from the stables. She
+dreaded her dancing-lesson. Try as she would, she could but stamp her
+feet flat on the parquet, as though it had been the village-green. She
+dreaded her music-lesson. Her fingers, disobedient to her ambition,
+clumsily thumped the keys of the spinet, and by the notes of the score
+propped up before her she was as cruelly perplexed as by the black and
+red pips of the cards she conned at the gaming-table, or by the red
+and gold threads that were always straying and snapping on her
+tambour-frame. Still she persevered. Day in, day out, sullenly, she
+worked hard to be a great lady. But skill came not to her, and hope
+dwindled; only the dull effort remained. One accomplishment she did
+master--to wit, the vapours: they became for her a dreadful reality. She
+lost her appetite for the fine hot dishes. All night long she lay awake,
+restless, tearful, under the fine silk canopy, till dawn stared her
+into slumber. She seldom scolded Betty. She who had been so lusty and so
+blooming saw in her mirror that she was pale and thin now; and the fine
+young gentlemen, seeing it too, paid more heed now to their wine and
+their dice than to her. And always, when she met him, the Duke smiled
+the same mocking smile. Duchess Meg was pining slowly and surely away...
+One morning, in Spring-time, she altogether vanished. Betty, bringing
+the cup of chocolate to the bedside, found the bed empty. She raised the
+alarm among her fellows. They searched high and low. Nowhere was their
+mistress. The news was broken to their master, who, without comment,
+rose, bade his man dress him, and presently walked out to the place
+where he knew he would find her. And there, to be sure, she was,
+churning, churning for dear life. Her sleeves were rolled above her
+elbows, and her skirt was kilted high; and, as she looked back over her
+shoulder and saw the Duke, there was the flush of roses in her cheeks,
+and the light of a thousand thanks in her eyes. ‘Oh,’ she cried, ‘what
+a curtsey I would drop you, but that to let go the handle were to spoil
+all!’ And every morning, ever after, she woke when the birds woke, rose
+when they rose, and went singing through the dawn to the dairy, there to
+practise for her pleasure that sweet and lowly handicraft which she had
+once practised for her need. And every evening, with her milking-stool
+under her arm, and her milk-pail in her hand, she went into the field
+and called the cows to her, as she had been wont to do. To those other,
+those so august, accomplishments she no more pretended. She gave them
+the go-by. And all the old zest and joyousness of her life came back
+to her. Soundlier than ever slept she, and sweetlier dreamed, under the
+fine silk canopy, till the birds called her to her work. Greater than
+ever was her love of the fine furbelows that were hers to flaunt in, and
+sharper her appetite for the fine hot dishes, and more tempestuous her
+scolding of Betty, poor maid. She was more than ever now the cynosure,
+the adored, of the fine young gentlemen. And as for her husband, she
+looked up to him as the wisest, kindest man in all the world.”
+
+“And the fine young gentlemen,” said Zuleika, “did she fall in love with
+any of them?”
+
+“You forget,” said the Duke coldly, “she was married to a member of my
+family.”
+
+“Oh, I beg your pardon. But tell me: did they ALL adore her?”
+
+“Yes. Every one of them, wildly, madly.”
+
+“Ah,” murmured Zuleika, with a smile of understanding. A shadow crossed
+her face, “Even so,” she said, with some pique, “I don’t suppose she had
+so very many adorers. She never went out into the world.”
+
+“Tankerton,” said the Duke drily, “is a large house, and my
+great-great-grandfather was the most hospitable of men. However,” he
+added, marvelling that she had again missed the point so utterly, “my
+purpose was not to confront you with a past rival in conquest, but to
+set at rest a fear which I had, I think, roused in you by my somewhat
+full description of the high majestic life to which you, as my bride,
+would be translated.”
+
+“A fear? What sort of a fear?”
+
+“That you would not breathe freely--that you would starve (if I may use
+a somewhat fantastic figure) among those strawberry-leaves. And so I
+told you the story of Meg Speedwell, and how she lived happily ever
+after. Nay, hear me out! The blood of Meg Speedwell’s lord flows in
+my veins. I think I may boast that I have inherited something of his
+sagacity. In any case, I can profit by his example. Do not fear that
+I, if you were to wed me, should demand a metamorphosis of your present
+self. I should take you as you are, gladly. I should encourage you to be
+always exactly as you are--a radiant, irresistible member of the upper
+middle-class, with a certain freedom of manner acquired through a
+life of peculiar liberty. Can you guess what would be my principal
+wedding-gift to you? Meg Speedwell had her dairy. For you, would be
+built another outhouse--a neat hall wherein you would perform your
+conjuring-tricks, every evening except Sunday, before me and my tenants
+and my servants, and before such of my neighbours as might care to come.
+None would respect you the less, seeing that I approved. Thus in
+you would the pleasant history of Meg Speedwell repeat itself. You,
+practising for your pleasure--nay, hear me out!--that sweet and lowly
+handicraft which--”
+
+“I won’t listen to another word!” cried Zuleika. “You are the most
+insolent person I have ever met. I happen to come of a particularly good
+family. I move in the best society. My manners are absolutely perfect.
+If I found myself in the shoes of twenty Duchesses simultaneously, I
+should know quite well how to behave. As for the one pair you can offer
+me, I kick them away--so. I kick them back at you. I tell you--”
+
+“Hush,” said the Duke, “hush! You are over-excited. There will be a
+crowd under my window. There, there! I am sorry. I thought--”
+
+“Oh, I know what you thought,” said Zuleika, in a quieter tone. “I am
+sure you meant well. I am sorry I lost my temper. Only, you might have
+given me credit for meaning what I said: that I would not marry you,
+because I did not love you. I daresay there would be great advantages
+in being your Duchess. But the fact is, I have no worldly wisdom. To me,
+marriage is a sacrament. I could no more marry a man about whom I could
+not make a fool of myself than I could marry one who made a fool of
+himself about me. Else had I long ceased to be a spinster. Oh my friend,
+do not imagine that I have not rejected, in my day, a score of suitors
+quite as eligible as you.”
+
+“As eligible? Who were they?” frowned the Duke.
+
+“Oh, Archduke this, and Grand Duke that, and His Serene Highness the
+other. I have a wretched memory for names.”
+
+“And my name, too, will soon escape you, perhaps?”
+
+“No. Oh, no. I shall always remember yours. You see, I was in love with
+you. You deceived me into loving you...” She sighed. “Oh, had you but
+been as strong as I thought you... Still, a swain the more. That is
+something.” She leaned forward, smiling archly. “Those studs--show me
+them again.”
+
+The Duke displayed them in the hollow of his hand. She touched them
+lightly, reverently, as a tourist touches a sacred relic in a church.
+
+At length, “Do give me them,” she said. “I will keep them in a little
+secret partition of my jewel-case.” The Duke had closed his fist. “Do!”
+ she pleaded. “My other jewels--they have no separate meanings for me.
+I never remember who gave me this one or that. These would be quite
+different. I should always remember their history... Do!”
+
+“Ask me for anything else,” said the Duke. “These are the one thing I
+could not part with--even to you, for whose sake they are hallowed.”
+
+Zuleika pouted. On the verge of persisting, she changed her mind, and
+was silent.
+
+“Well!” she said abruptly, “how about these races? Are you going to take
+me to see them?”
+
+“Races? What races?” murmured the Duke. “Oh yes. I had forgotten. Do you
+really mean that you want to see them?”
+
+“Why, of course! They are great fun, aren’t they?”
+
+“And you are in a mood for great fun? Well, there is plenty of time. The
+Second Division is not rowed till half-past four.”
+
+“The Second Division? Why not take me to the First?”
+
+“That is not rowed till six.”
+
+“Isn’t this rather an odd arrangement?”
+
+“No doubt. But Oxford never pretended to be strong in mathematics.”
+
+“Why, it’s not yet three!” cried Zuleika, with a woebegone stare at the
+clock. “What is to be done in the meantime?”
+
+“Am not I sufficiently diverting?” asked the Duke bitterly.
+
+“Quite candidly, no. Have you any friend lodging with you here?”
+
+“One, overhead. A man named Noaks.”
+
+“A small man, with spectacles?”
+
+“Very small, with very large spectacles.”
+
+“He was pointed out to me yesterday, as I was driving from the Station
+... No, I don’t think I want to meet him. What can you have in common
+with him?”
+
+“One frailty, at least: he, too, Miss Dobson, loves you.”
+
+“But of course he does. He saw me drive past. Very few of the others,”
+ she said, rising and shaking herself, “have set eyes on me. Do let us go
+out and look at the Colleges. I do need change of scene. If you were a
+doctor, you would have prescribed that long ago. It is very bad for me
+to be here, a kind of Cinderella, moping over the ashes of my love for
+you. Where is your hat?”
+
+Looking round, she caught sight of herself in the glass. “Oh,” she
+cried, “what a fright I do look! I must never be seen like this!”
+
+“You look very beautiful.”
+
+“I don’t. That is a lover’s illusion. You yourself told me that this
+tartan was perfectly hideous. There was no need to tell me that. I
+came thus because I was coming to see you. I chose this frock in the
+deliberate fear that you, if I made myself presentable, might succumb at
+second sight of me. I would have sent out for a sack and dressed myself
+in that, I would have blacked my face all over with burnt cork, only I
+was afraid of being mobbed on the way to you.”
+
+“Even so, you would but have been mobbed for your incorrigible beauty.”
+
+“My beauty! How I hate it!” sighed Zuleika. “Still, here it is, and I
+must needs make the best of it. Come! Take me to Judas. I will change my
+things. Then I shall be fit for the races.”
+
+As these two emerged, side by side, into the street, the Emperors
+exchanged stony sidelong glances. For they saw the more than normal
+pallor of the Duke’s face, and something very like desperation in his
+eyes. They saw the tragedy progressing to its foreseen close. Unable to
+stay its course, they were grimly fascinated now.
+
+
+
+
+VI
+
+“The evil that men do lives after them; the good is oft interred with
+their bones.” At any rate, the sinner has a better chance than the saint
+of being hereafter remembered. We, in whom original sin preponderates,
+find him easier to understand. He is near to us, clear to us. The saint
+is remote, dim. A very great saint may, of course, be remembered through
+some sheer force of originality in him; and then the very mystery that
+involves him for us makes him the harder to forget: he haunts us the
+more surely because we shall never understand him. But the ordinary
+saints grow faint to posterity; whilst quite ordinary sinners pass
+vividly down the ages.
+
+Of the disciples of Jesus, which is he that is most often remembered
+and cited by us? Not the disciple whom Jesus loved; neither of the
+Boanerges, nor any other of them who so steadfastly followed Him and
+served Him; but the disciple who betrayed Him for thirty pieces of
+silver. Judas Iscariot it is who outstands, overshadowing those
+other fishermen. And perhaps it was by reason of this precedence that
+Christopher Whitrid, Knight, in the reign of Henry VI., gave the name of
+Judas to the College which he had founded. Or perhaps it was because he
+felt that in a Christian community not even the meanest and basest of
+men should be accounted beneath contempt, beyond redemption.
+
+At any rate, thus he named his foundation. And, though for Oxford men
+the savour of the name itself has long evaporated through its local
+connexion, many things show that for the Founder himself it was no empty
+vocable. In a niche above the gate stands a rudely carved statue
+of Judas, holding a money-bag in his right hand. Among the original
+statutes of the College is one by which the Bursar is enjoined to
+distribute in Passion Week thirty pieces of silver among the needier
+scholars “for saike of atonynge.” The meadow adjoining the back of the
+College has been called from time immemorial “the Potter’s Field.” And
+the name of Salt Cellar is not less ancient and significant.
+
+Salt Cellar, that grey and green quadrangle visible from the room
+assigned to Zuleika, is very beautiful, as I have said. So tranquil is
+it as to seem remote not merely from the world, but even from Oxford, so
+deeply is it hidden away in the core of Oxford’s heart. So tranquil
+is it, one would guess that nothing had ever happened in it. For five
+centuries these walls have stood, and during that time have beheld, one
+would say, no sight less seemly than the good work of weeding, mowing,
+rolling, that has made, at length, so exemplary the lawn. These
+cloisters that grace the south and east sides--five centuries have
+passed through them, leaving in them no echo, leaving on them no
+sign, of all that the outer world, for good or evil, has been doing so
+fiercely, so raucously.
+
+And yet, if you are versed in the antiquities of Oxford, you know that
+this small, still quadrangle has played its part in the rough-and-tumble
+of history, and has been the background of high passions and strange
+fates. The sun-dial in its midst has told the hours to more than one
+bygone King. Charles I. lay for twelve nights in Judas; and it was here,
+in this very quadrangle, that he heard from the lips of a breathless and
+blood-stained messenger the news of Chalgrove Field. Sixty years later,
+James, his son, came hither, black with threats, and from one of the
+hind-windows of the Warden’s house--maybe, from the very room where now
+Zuleika was changing her frock--addressed the Fellows, and presented
+to them the Papist by him chosen to be their Warden, instead of the
+Protestant whom they had elected. They were not of so stern a stuff as
+the Fellows of Magdalen, who, despite His Majesty’s menaces, had just
+rejected Bishop Farmer. The Papist was elected, there and then, al
+fresco, without dissent. Cannot one see them, these Fellows of Judas,
+huddled together round the sun-dial, like so many sheep in a storm? The
+King’s wrath, according to a contemporary record, was so appeased by
+their pliancy that he deigned to lie for two nights in Judas, and at
+a grand refection in Hall “was gracious and merrie.” Perhaps it was in
+lingering gratitude for such patronage that Judas remained so pious to
+his memory even after smug Herrenhausen had been dumped down on us for
+ever. Certainly, of all the Colleges none was more ardent than Judas for
+James Stuart. Thither it was that young Sir Harry Esson led, under cover
+of night, three-score recruits whom he had enlisted in the surrounding
+villages. The cloisters of Salt Cellar were piled with arms and stores;
+and on its grass--its sacred grass!--the squad was incessantly drilled,
+against the good day when Ormond should land his men in Devon. For a
+whole month Salt Cellar was a secret camp. But somehow, at length--woe
+to “lost causes and impossible loyalties”--Herrenhausen had wind of
+it; and one night, when the soldiers of the white cockade lay snoring
+beneath the stars, stealthily the white-faced Warden unbarred his
+postern--that very postern through which now Zuleika had passed on the
+way to her bedroom--and stealthily through it, one by one on tip-toe,
+came the King’s foot-guards. Not many shots rang out, nor many swords
+clashed, in the night air, before the trick was won for law and order.
+Most of the rebels were overpowered in their sleep; and those who had
+time to snatch arms were too dazed to make good resistance. Sir Harry
+Esson himself was the only one who did not live to be hanged. He had
+sprung up alert, sword in hand, at the first alarm, setting his back to
+the cloisters. There he fought calmly, ferociously, till a bullet went
+through his chest. “By God, this College is well-named!” were the words
+he uttered as he fell forward and died.
+
+Comparatively tame was the scene now being enacted in this place. The
+Duke, with bowed head, was pacing the path between the lawn and the
+cloisters. Two other undergraduates stood watching him, whispering
+to each other, under the archway that leads to the Front Quadrangle.
+Presently, in a sheepish way, they approached him. He halted and looked
+up.
+
+“I say,” stammered the spokesman.
+
+“Well?” asked the Duke. Both youths were slightly acquainted with him;
+but he was not used to being spoken to by those whom he had not first
+addressed. Moreover, he was loth to be thus disturbed in his sombre
+reverie. His manner was not encouraging.
+
+“Isn’t it a lovely day for the Eights?” faltered the spokesman.
+
+“I conceive,” the Duke said, “that you hold back some other question.”
+
+The spokesman smiled weakly. Nudged by the other, he muttered “Ask him
+yourself!”
+
+The Duke diverted his gaze to the other, who, with an angry look at the
+one, cleared his throat, and said “I was going to ask if you thought
+Miss Dobson would come and have luncheon with me to-morrow?”
+
+“A sister of mine will be there,” explained the one, knowing the Duke to
+be a precisian.
+
+“If you are acquainted with Miss Dobson, a direct invitation should be
+sent to her,” said the Duke. “If you are not--” The aposiopesis was icy.
+
+“Well, you see,” said the other of the two, “that is just the
+difficulty. I AM acquainted with her. But is she acquainted with ME? I
+met her at breakfast this morning, at the Warden’s.”
+
+“So did I,” added the one.
+
+“But she--well,” continued the other, “she didn’t take much notice of
+us. She seemed to be in a sort of dream.”
+
+“Ah!” murmured the Duke, with melancholy interest.
+
+“The only time she opened her lips,” said the other, “was when she asked
+us whether we took tea or coffee.”
+
+“She put hot milk in my tea,” volunteered the one, “and upset the cup
+over my hand, and smiled vaguely.”
+
+“And smiled vaguely,” sighed the Duke.
+
+“She left us long before the marmalade stage,” said the one.
+
+“Without a word,” said the other.
+
+“Without a glance?” asked the Duke. It was testified by the one and the
+other that there had been not so much as a glance.
+
+“Doubtless,” the disingenuous Duke said, “she had a headache... Was she
+pale?”
+
+“Very pale,” answered the one.
+
+“A healthy pallor,” qualified the other, who was a constant reader of
+novels.
+
+“Did she look,” the Duke inquired, “as if she had spent a sleepless
+night?”
+
+That was the impression made on both.
+
+“Yet she did not seem listless or unhappy?”
+
+No, they would not go so far as to say that.
+
+“Indeed, were her eyes of an almost unnatural brilliance?”
+
+“Quite unnatural,” confessed the one.
+
+“Twin stars,” interpolated the other.
+
+“Did she, in fact, seem to be consumed by some inward rapture?”
+
+Yes, now they came to think of it, this was exactly how she HAD seemed.
+
+It was sweet, it was bitter, for the Duke. “I remember,” Zuleika had
+said to him, “nothing that happened to me this morning till I found
+myself at your door.” It was bitter-sweet to have that outline filled in
+by these artless pencils. No, it was only bitter, to be, at his time of
+life, living in the past.
+
+“The purpose of your tattle?” he asked coldly.
+
+The two youths hurried to the point from which he had diverted them.
+“When she went by with you just now,” said the one, “she evidently
+didn’t know us from Adam.”
+
+“And I had so hoped to ask her to luncheon,” said the other.
+
+“Well?”
+
+“Well, we wondered if you would re-introduce us. And then perhaps...”
+
+There was a pause. The Duke was touched to kindness for these
+fellow-lovers. He would fain preserve them from the anguish that beset
+himself. So humanising is sorrow.
+
+“You are in love with Miss Dobson?” he asked.
+
+Both nodded.
+
+“Then,” said he, “you will in time be thankful to me for not affording
+you further traffic with that lady. To love and be scorned--does Fate
+hold for us a greater inconvenience? You think I beg the question? Let
+me tell you that I, too, love Miss Dobson, and that she scorns me.”
+
+To the implied question “What chance would there be for you?” the reply
+was obvious.
+
+Amazed, abashed, the two youths turned on their heels.
+
+“Stay!” said the Duke. “Let me, in justice to myself, correct an
+inference you may have drawn. It is not by reason of any defect in
+myself, perceived or imagined, that Miss Dobson scorns me. She scorns me
+simply because I love her. All who love her she scorns. To see her is
+to love her. Therefore shut your eyes to her. Strictly exclude her from
+your horizon. Ignore her. Will you do this?”
+
+“We will try,” said the one, after a pause.
+
+“Thank you very much,” added the other.
+
+The Duke watched them out of sight. He wished he could take the good
+advice he had given them... Suppose he did take it! Suppose he went
+to the Bursar, obtained an exeat, fled straight to London! What just
+humiliation for Zuleika to come down and find her captive gone! He
+pictured her staring around the quadrangle, ranging the cloisters,
+calling to him. He pictured her rustling to the gate of the College,
+inquiring at the porter’s lodge. “His Grace, Miss, he passed through a
+minute ago. He’s going down this afternoon.”
+
+Yet, even while his fancy luxuriated in this scheme, he well knew that
+he would not accomplish anything of the kind--knew well that he would
+wait here humbly, eagerly, even though Zuleika lingered over her toilet
+till crack o’ doom. He had no desire that was not centred in her. Take
+away his love for her, and what remained? Nothing--though only in the
+past twenty-four hours had this love been added to him. Ah, why had
+he ever seen her? He thought of his past, its cold splendour and
+insouciance. But he knew that for him there was no returning. His boats
+were burnt. The Cytherean babes had set their torches to that flotilla,
+and it had blazed like match-wood. On the isle of the enchantress he was
+stranded for ever. For ever stranded on the isle of an enchantress who
+would have nothing to do with him! What, he wondered, should be done in
+so piteous a quandary? There seemed to be two courses. One was to pine
+slowly and painfully away. The other...
+
+Academically, the Duke had often reasoned that a man for whom life holds
+no chance of happiness cannot too quickly shake life off. Now, of a
+sudden, there was for that theory a vivid application.
+
+“Whether ‘tis nobler in the mind to suffer” was not a point by which he,
+“more an antique Roman than a Dane,” was at all troubled. Never had he
+given ear to that cackle which is called Public Opinion. The judgment
+of his peers--this, he had often told himself, was the sole arbitrage he
+could submit to; but then, who was to be on the bench? Peerless, he was
+irresponsible--the captain of his soul, the despot of his future. No
+injunction but from himself would he bow to; and his own injunctions--so
+little Danish was he--had always been peremptory and lucid. Lucid and
+peremptory, now, the command he issued to himself.
+
+“So sorry to have been so long,” carolled a voice from above. The Duke
+looked up. “I’m all but ready,” said Zuleika at her window.
+
+That brief apparition changed the colour of his resolve. He realised
+that to die for love of this lady would be no mere measure of
+precaution, or counsel of despair. It would be in itself a passionate
+indulgence--a fiery rapture, not to be foregone. What better could
+he ask than to die for his love? Poor indeed seemed to him now
+the sacrament of marriage beside the sacrament of death. Death was
+incomparably the greater, the finer soul. Death was the one true bridal.
+
+He flung back his head, spread wide his arms, quickened his pace almost
+to running speed. Ah, he would win his bride before the setting of the
+sun. He knew not by what means he would win her. Enough that even now,
+full-hearted, fleet-footed, he was on his way to her, and that she heard
+him coming.
+
+When Zuleika, a vision in vaporous white, came out through the postern,
+she wondered why he was walking at so remarkable a pace. To him, wildly
+expressing in his movement the thought within him, she appeared as his
+awful bride. With a cry of joy, he bounded towards her, and would have
+caught her in his arms, had she not stepped nimbly aside.
+
+“Forgive me!” he said, after a pause. “It was a mistake--an idiotic
+mistake of identity. I thought you were...”
+
+Zuleika, rigid, asked “Have I many doubles?”
+
+“You know well that in all the world is none so blest as to be like you.
+I can only say that I was over-wrought. I can only say that it shall not
+occur again.”
+
+She was very angry indeed. Of his penitence there could be no doubt. But
+there are outrages for which no penitence can atone. This seemed to be
+one of them. Her first impulse was to dismiss the Duke forthwith and for
+ever. But she wanted to show herself at the races. And she could not go
+alone. And except the Duke there was no one to take her. True, there was
+the concert to-night; and she could show herself there to advantage; but
+she wanted ALL Oxford to see her--see her NOW.
+
+“I am forgiven?” he asked. In her, I am afraid, self-respect outweighed
+charity. “I will try,” she said merely, “to forget what you have done.”
+ Motioning him to her side, she opened her parasol, and signified her
+readiness to start.
+
+They passed together across the vast gravelled expanse of the Front
+Quadrangle. In the porch of the College there were, as usual, some
+chained-up dogs, patiently awaiting their masters. Zuleika, of course,
+did not care for dogs. One has never known a good man to whom dogs were
+not dear; but many of the best women have no such fondness. You will
+find that the woman who is really kind to dogs is always one who has
+failed to inspire sympathy in men. For the attractive woman, dogs are
+mere dumb and restless brutes--possibly dangerous, certainly soulless.
+Yet will coquetry teach her to caress any dog in the presence of a
+man enslaved by her. Even Zuleika, it seems, was not above this rather
+obvious device for awaking envy. Be sure she did not at all like the
+look of the very big bulldog who was squatting outside the porter’s
+lodge. Perhaps, but for her present anger, she would not have stooped
+endearingly down to him, as she did, cooing over him and trying to pat
+his head. Alas, her pretty act was a failure. The bulldog cowered away
+from her, horrifically grimacing. This was strange. Like the majority
+of his breed, Corker (for such was his name) had ever been wistful to
+be noticed by any one--effusively grateful for every word or pat, an
+ever-ready wagger and nuzzler, to none ineffable. No beggar, no burglar,
+had ever been rebuffed by this catholic beast. But he drew the line at
+Zuleika.
+
+Seldom is even a fierce bulldog heard to growl. Yet Corker growled at
+Zuleika.
+
+
+
+
+VII
+
+The Duke did not try to break the stony silence in which Zuleika walked.
+Her displeasure was a luxury to him, for it was so soon to be dispelled.
+A little while, and she would be hating herself for her pettiness. Here
+was he, going to die for her; and here was she, blaming him for a breach
+of manners. Decidedly, the slave had the whip-hand. He stole a sidelong
+look at her, and could not repress a smile. His features quickly
+composed themselves. The Triumph of Death must not be handled as a
+cheap score. He wanted to die because he would thereby so poignantly
+consummate his love, express it so completely, once and for all...
+And she--who could say that she, knowing what he had done, might not,
+illogically, come to love him? Perhaps she would devote her life to
+mourning him. He saw her bending over his tomb, in beautiful humble
+curves, under a starless sky, watering the violets with her tears.
+
+Shades of Novalis and Friedrich Schlegel and other despicable
+maunderers! He brushed them aside. He would be practical. The point was,
+when and how to die? Time: the sooner the better. Manner:.. less easy to
+determine. He must not die horribly, nor without dignity. The manner of
+the Roman philosophers? But the only kind of bath which an undergraduate
+can command is a hip-bath. Stay! there was the river. Drowning (he had
+often heard) was a rather pleasant sensation. And to the river he was
+even now on his way.
+
+It troubled him that he could swim. Twice, indeed, from his yacht,
+he had swum the Hellespont. And how about the animal instinct of
+self-preservation, strong even in despair? No matter! His soul’s set
+purpose would subdue that. The law of gravitation that brings one to the
+surface? There his very skill in swimming would help him. He would swim
+under water, along the river-bed, swim till he found weeds to cling to,
+weird strong weeds that he would coil round him, exulting faintly...
+
+As they turned into Radcliffe Square, the Duke’s ear caught the sound of
+a far-distant gun. He started, and looked up at the clock of St. Mary’s.
+Half-past four! The boats had started.
+
+He had heard that whenever a woman was to blame for a disappointment,
+the best way to avoid a scene was to inculpate oneself. He did not
+wish Zuleika to store up yet more material for penitence. And so “I am
+sorry,” he said. “That gun--did you hear it? It was the signal for the
+race. I shall never forgive myself.”
+
+“Then we shan’t see the race at all?” cried Zuleika.
+
+“It will be over, alas, before we are near the river. All the people
+will be coming back through the meadows.”
+
+“Let us meet them.”
+
+“Meet a torrent? Let us have tea in my rooms and go down quietly for the
+other Division.”
+
+“Let us go straight on.”
+
+Through the square, across the High, down Grove Street, they passed.
+The Duke looked up at the tower of Merton, “os oupot authis alla nyn
+paunstaton.” Strange that to-night it would still be standing here,
+in all its sober and solid beauty--still be gazing, over the roofs and
+chimneys, at the tower of Magdalen, its rightful bride. Through untold
+centuries of the future it would stand thus, gaze thus. He winced.
+Oxford walls have a way of belittling us; and the Duke was loth to
+regard his doom as trivial.
+
+Aye, by all minerals we are mocked. Vegetables, yearly deciduous, are
+far more sympathetic. The lilac and laburnum, making lovely now the
+railed pathway to Christ Church meadow, were all a-swaying and a-nodding
+to the Duke as he passed by. “Adieu, adieu, your Grace,” they were
+whispering. “We are very sorry for you--very sorry indeed. We never
+dared suppose you would predecease us. We think your death a very great
+tragedy. Adieu! Perhaps we shall meet in another world--that is, if the
+members of the animal kingdom have immortal souls, as we have.”
+
+The Duke was little versed in their language; yet, as he passed between
+these gently garrulous blooms, he caught at least the drift of their
+salutation, and smiled a vague but courteous acknowledgment, to the
+right and the left alternately, creating a very favourable impression.
+
+No doubt, the young elms lining the straight way to the barges had seen
+him coming; but any whispers of their leaves were lost in the murmur of
+the crowd returning from the race. Here, at length, came the torrent
+of which the Duke had spoken; and Zuleika’s heart rose at it. Here was
+Oxford! From side to side the avenue was filled with a dense procession
+of youths--youths interspersed with maidens whose parasols were as
+flotsam and jetsam on a seething current of straw hats. Zuleika neither
+quickened nor slackened her advance. But brightlier and brightlier shone
+her eyes.
+
+The vanguard of the procession was pausing now, swaying, breaking at
+sight of her. She passed, imperial, through the way cloven for her. All
+a-down the avenue, the throng parted as though some great invisible
+comb were being drawn through it. The few youths who had already
+seen Zuleika, and by whom her beauty had been bruited throughout the
+University, were lost in a new wonder, so incomparably fairer was she
+than the remembered vision. And the rest hardly recognised her from the
+descriptions, so incomparably fairer was the reality than the hope.
+
+She passed among them. None questioned the worthiness of her escort.
+Could I give you better proof the awe in which our Duke was held? Any
+man is glad to be seen escorting a very pretty woman. He thinks it adds
+to his prestige. Whereas, in point of fact, his fellow-men are saying
+merely “Who’s that appalling fellow with her?” or “Why does she go about
+with that ass So-and-So?” Such cavil may in part be envy. But it is a
+fact that no man, howsoever graced, can shine in juxtaposition to a very
+pretty woman. The Duke himself cut a poor figure beside Zuleika. Yet not
+one of all the undergraduates felt she could have made a wiser choice.
+
+She swept among them. Her own intrinsic radiance was not all that
+flashed from her. She was a moving reflector and refractor of all the
+rays of all the eyes that mankind had turned on her. Her mien told the
+story of her days. Bright eyes, light feet--she trod erect from a vista
+whose glare was dazzling to all beholders. She swept among them, a
+miracle, overwhelming, breath-bereaving. Nothing at all like her had
+ever been seen in Oxford.
+
+Mainly architectural, the beauties of Oxford. True, the place is no
+longer one-sexed. There are the virguncules of Somerville and Lady
+Margaret’s Hall; but beauty and the lust for learning have yet to be
+allied. There are the innumerable wives and daughters around the Parks,
+running in and out of their little red-brick villas; but the indignant
+shade of celibacy seems to have called down on the dons a Nemesis which
+precludes them from either marrying beauty or begetting it. (From the
+Warden’s son, that unhappy curate, Zuleika inherited no tittle of
+her charm. Some of it, there is no doubt, she did inherit from the
+circus-rider who was her mother.)
+
+But the casual feminine visitors? Well, the sisters and cousins of an
+undergraduate seldom seem more passable to his comrades than to himself.
+Altogether, the instinct of sex is not pandered to in Oxford. It is not,
+however, as it may once have been, dormant. The modern importation of
+samples of femininity serves to keep it alert, though not to gratify it.
+A like result is achieved by another modern development--photography.
+The undergraduate may, and usually does, surround himself with
+photographs of pretty ladies known to the public. A phantom harem! Yet
+the houris have an effect on their sultan. Surrounded both by plain
+women of flesh and blood and by beauteous women on pasteboard, the
+undergraduate is the easiest victim of living loveliness--is as a fire
+ever well and truly laid, amenable to a spark. And if the spark be such
+a flaring torch as Zuleika?--marvel not, reader, at the conflagration.
+
+Not only was the whole throng of youths drawing asunder before her:
+much of it, as she passed, was forming up in her wake. Thus, with the
+confluence of two masses--one coming away from the river, the other
+returning to it--chaos seethed around her and the Duke before they were
+half-way along the avenue. Behind them, and on either side of them, the
+people were crushed inextricably together, swaying and surging this way
+and that. “Help!” cried many a shrill feminine voice. “Don’t push!” “Let
+me out!” “You brute!” “Save me, save me!” Many ladies fainted, whilst
+their escorts, supporting them and protecting them as best they could,
+peered over the heads of their fellows for one glimpse of the divine
+Miss Dobson. Yet for her and the Duke, in the midst of the terrific
+compress, there was space enough. In front of them, as by a miracle
+of deference, a way still cleared itself. They reached the end of the
+avenue without a pause in their measured progress. Nor even when they
+turned to the left, along the rather narrow path beside the barges, was
+there any obstacle to their advance. Passing evenly forward, they alone
+were cool, unhustled, undishevelled.
+
+The Duke was so rapt in his private thoughts that he was hardly
+conscious of the strange scene. And as for Zuleika, she, as well she
+might be, was in the very best of good humours.
+
+“What a lot of house-boats!” she exclaimed. “Are you going to take me on
+to one of them?”
+
+The Duke started. Already they were alongside the Judas barge. “Here,”
+ he said, “is our goal.”
+
+He stepped through the gate of the railings, out upon the plank, and
+offered her his hand.
+
+She looked back. The young men in the vanguard were crushing their
+shoulders against the row behind them, to stay the oncoming host. She
+had half a mind to go back through the midst of them; but she really did
+want her tea, and she followed the Duke on to the barge, and under his
+auspices climbed the steps to the roof.
+
+It looked very cool and gay, this roof, under its awning of red and
+white stripes. Nests of red and white flowers depended along either side
+of it. Zuleika moved to the side which commanded a view of the bank. She
+leaned her arms on the balustrade, and gazed down.
+
+The crowd stretched as far as she could see--a vista of faces upturned
+to her. Suddenly it hove forward. Its vanguard was swept irresistibly
+past the barge--swept by the desire of the rest to see her at closer
+quarters. Such was the impetus that the vision for each man was but
+a lightning-flash: he was whirled past, struggling, almost before his
+brain took the message of his eyes.
+
+Those who were Judas men made frantic efforts to board the barge, trying
+to hurl themselves through the gate in the railings; but they were swept
+vainly on.
+
+Presently the torrent began to slacken, became a mere river, a mere
+procession of youths staring up rather shyly.
+
+Before the last stragglers had marched by, Zuleika moved away to the
+other side of the roof, and, after a glance at the sunlit river,
+sank into one of the wicker chairs, and asked the Duke to look less
+disagreeable and to give her some tea.
+
+Among others hovering near the little buffet were the two youths whose
+parley with the Duke I have recorded.
+
+Zuleika was aware of the special persistence of their gaze. When the
+Duke came back with her cup, she asked him who they were. He replied,
+truthfully enough, that their names were unknown to him.
+
+“Then,” she said, “ask them their names, and introduce them to me.”
+
+“No,” said the Duke, sinking into the chair beside her. “That I shall
+not do. I am your victim: not your pander. Those two men stand on the
+threshold of a possibly useful and agreeable career. I am not going to
+trip them up for you.”
+
+“I am not sure,” said Zuleika, “that you are very polite. Certainly you
+are foolish. It is natural for boys to fall in love. If these two are
+in love with me, why not let them talk to me? It were an experience on
+which they would always look back with romantic pleasure. They may never
+see me again. Why grudge them this little thing?” She sipped her tea.
+“As for tripping them up on a threshold--that is all nonsense. What harm
+has unrequited love ever done to anybody?” She laughed. “Look at ME!
+When I came to your rooms this morning, thinking I loved in vain, did I
+seem one jot the worse for it? Did I look different?”
+
+“You looked, I am bound to say, nobler, more spiritual.”
+
+“More spiritual?” she exclaimed. “Do you mean I looked tired or ill?”
+
+“No, you seemed quite fresh. But then, you are singular. You are no
+criterion.”
+
+“You mean you can’t judge those two young men by me? Well, I am only a
+woman, of course. I have heard of women, no longer young, wasting away
+because no man loved them. I have often heard of a young woman fretting
+because some particular young man didn’t love her. But I never heard of
+her wasting away. Certainly a young man doesn’t waste away for love of
+some particular young woman. He very soon makes love to some other one.
+If his be an ardent nature, the quicker his transition. All the most
+ardent of my past adorers have married. Will you put my cup down,
+please?”
+
+“Past?” echoed the Duke, as he placed her cup on the floor. “Have any of
+your lovers ceased to love you?”
+
+“Ah no, no; not in retrospect. I remain their ideal, and all that, of
+course. They cherish the thought of me. They see the world in terms of
+me. But I am an inspiration, not an obsession; a glow, not a blight.”
+
+“You don’t believe in the love that corrodes, the love that ruins?”
+
+“No,” laughed Zuleika.
+
+“You have never dipped into the Greek pastoral poets, nor sampled the
+Elizabethan sonneteers?”
+
+“No, never. You will think me lamentably crude: my experience of life
+has been drawn from life itself.”
+
+“Yet often you talk as though you had read rather much. Your way of
+speech has what is called ‘the literary flavour’.”
+
+“Ah, that is an unfortunate trick which I caught from a writer, a Mr.
+Beerbohm, who once sat next to me at dinner somewhere. I can’t break
+myself of it. I assure you I hardly ever open a book. Of life, though,
+my experience has been very wide. Brief? But I suppose the soul of man
+during the past two or three years has been much as it was in the reign
+of Queen Elizabeth and of--whoever it was that reigned over the Greek
+pastures. And I daresay the modern poets are making the same old silly
+distortions. But forgive me,” she added gently, “perhaps you yourself
+are a poet?”
+
+“Only since yesterday,” answered the Duke (not less unfairly to himself
+than to Roger Newdigate and Thomas Gaisford). And he felt he was
+especially a dramatic poet. All the while that she had been sitting by
+him here, talking so glibly, looking so straight into his eyes, flashing
+at him so many pretty gestures, it was the sense of tragic irony
+that prevailed in him--that sense which had stirred in him, and been
+repressed, on the way from Judas. He knew that she was making her effect
+consciously for the other young men by whom the roof of the barge was
+now thronged. Him alone she seemed to observe. By her manner, she might
+have seemed to be making love to him. He envied the men she was so
+deliberately making envious--the men whom, in her undertone to him, she
+was really addressing. But he did take comfort in the irony. Though she
+used him as a stalking-horse, he, after all, was playing with her as a
+cat plays with a mouse. While she chattered on, without an inkling that
+he was no ordinary lover, and coaxing him to present two quite ordinary
+young men to her, he held over her the revelation that he for love of
+her was about to die.
+
+And, while he drank in the radiance of her beauty, he heard her
+chattering on. “So you see,” she was saying, “it couldn’t do those young
+men any harm. Suppose unrequited love IS anguish: isn’t the discipline
+wholesome? Suppose I AM a sort of furnace: shan’t I purge, refine,
+temper? Those two boys are but scorched from here. That is horrid; and
+what good will it do them?” She laid a hand on his arm. “Cast them into
+the furnace for their own sake, dear Duke! Or cast one of them, or,” she
+added, glancing round at the throng, “any one of these others!”
+
+“For their own sake?” he echoed, withdrawing his arm. “If you were not,
+as the whole world knows you to be, perfectly respectable, there might
+be something in what you say. But as it is, you can but be an engine for
+mischief; and your sophistries leave me unmoved. I shall certainly keep
+you to myself.”
+
+“I hate you,” said Zuleika, with an ugly petulance that crowned the
+irony.
+
+“So long as I live,” uttered the Duke, in a level voice, “you will
+address no man but me.”
+
+“If your prophecy is to be fulfilled,” laughed Zuleika, rising from her
+chair, “your last moment is at hand.”
+
+“It is,” he answered, rising too.
+
+“What do you mean?” she asked, awed by something in his tone.
+
+“I mean what I say: that my last moment is at hand.” He withdrew
+his eyes from hers, and, leaning his elbows on the balustrade, gazed
+thoughtfully at the river. “When I am dead,” he added, over his
+shoulder, “you will find these fellows rather coy of your advances.”
+
+For the first time since his avowal of his love for her, Zuleika found
+herself genuinely interested in him. A suspicion of his meaning had
+flashed through her soul.--But no! surely he could not mean THAT! It
+must have been a metaphor merely. And yet, something in his eyes... She
+leaned beside him. Her shoulder touched his. She gazed questioningly at
+him. He did not turn his face to her. He gazed at the sunlit river.
+
+The Judas Eight had just embarked for their voyage to the
+starting-point. Standing on the edge of the raft that makes a floating
+platform for the barge, William, the hoary bargee, was pushing them off
+with his boat-hook, wishing them luck with deferential familiarity.
+The raft was thronged with Old Judasians--mostly clergymen--who were
+shouting hearty hortations, and evidently trying not to appear so old
+as they felt--or rather, not to appear so startlingly old as their
+contemporaries looked to them. It occurred to the Duke as a strange
+thing, and a thing to be glad of, that he, in this world, would never be
+an Old Judasian. Zuleika’s shoulder pressed his. He thrilled not at all.
+To all intents, he was dead already.
+
+The enormous eight young men in the thread-like skiff--the skiff that
+would scarce have seemed an adequate vehicle for the tiny “cox” who sat
+facing them--were staring up at Zuleika with that uniformity of impulse
+which, in another direction, had enabled them to bump a boat on two of
+the previous “nights.” If to-night they bumped the next boat, Univ.,
+then would Judas be three places “up” on the river; and to-morrow Judas
+would have a Bump Supper. Furthermore, if Univ. were bumped to-night,
+Magdalen might be bumped to-morrow. Then would Judas, for the first
+time in history, be head of the river. Oh tremulous hope! Yet, for
+the moment, these eight young men seemed to have forgotten the awful
+responsibility that rested on their over-developed shoulders. Their
+hearts, already strained by rowing, had been transfixed this afternoon
+by Eros’ darts. All of them had seen Zuleika as she came down to the
+river; and now they sat gaping up at her, fumbling with their oars. The
+tiny cox gaped too; but he it was who first recalled duty. With piping
+adjurations he brought the giants back to their senses. The boat moved
+away down stream, with a fairly steady stroke.
+
+Not in a day can the traditions of Oxford be sent spinning. From all the
+barges the usual punt-loads of young men were being ferried across
+to the towing-path--young men naked of knee, armed with rattles,
+post-horns, motor-hooters, gongs, and other instruments of clangour.
+Though Zuleika filled their thoughts, they hurried along the
+towing-path, as by custom, to the starting-point.
+
+She, meanwhile, had not taken her eyes off the Duke’s profile. Nor
+had she dared, for fear of disappointment, to ask him just what he had
+meant.
+
+“All these men,” he repeated dreamily, “will be coy of your advances.”
+ It seemed to him a good thing that his death, his awful example, would
+disinfatuate his fellow alumni. He had never been conscious of
+public spirit. He had lived for himself alone. Love had come to him
+yesternight, and to-day had waked in him a sympathy with mankind. It
+was a fine thing to be a saviour. It was splendid to be human. He looked
+quickly round to her who had wrought this change in him.
+
+But the loveliest face in all the world will not please you if you see
+it suddenly, eye to eye, at a distance of half an inch from your own.
+It was thus that the Duke saw Zuleika’s: a monstrous deliquium a-glare.
+Only for the fraction of an instant, though. Recoiling, he beheld the
+loveliness that he knew--more adorably vivid now in its look of eager
+questioning. And in his every fibre he thrilled to her. Even so had she
+gazed at him last night, this morning. Aye, now as then, her soul was
+full of him. He had recaptured, not her love, but his power to please
+her. It was enough. He bowed his head; and “Moriturus te saluto” were
+the words formed silently by his lips. He was glad that his death would
+be a public service to the University. But the salutary lesson of
+what the newspapers would call his “rash act” was, after all, only a
+side-issue. The great thing, the prospect that flushed his cheek, was
+the consummation of his own love, for its own sake, by his own death.
+And, as he met her gaze, the question that had already flitted through
+his brain found a faltering utterance; and “Shall you mourn me?” he
+asked her.
+
+But she would have no ellipses. “What are you going to do?” she
+whispered.
+
+“Do you not know?”
+
+“Tell me.”
+
+“Once and for all: you cannot love me?”
+
+Slowly she shook her head. The black pearl and the pink, quivering, gave
+stress to her ultimatum. But the violet of her eyes was all but hidden
+by the dilation of her pupils.
+
+“Then,” whispered the Duke, “when I shall have died, deeming life a vain
+thing without you, will the gods give you tears for me? Miss Dobson,
+will your soul awaken? When I shall have sunk for ever beneath these
+waters whose supposed purpose here this afternoon is but that they be
+ploughed by the blades of these young oarsmen, will there be struck from
+that flint, your heart, some late and momentary spark of pity for me?”
+
+“Why of course, of COURSE!” babbled Zuleika, with clasped hands and
+dazzling eyes. “But,” she curbed herself, “it is--it would--oh, you
+mustn’t THINK of it! I couldn’t allow it! I--I should never forgive
+myself!”
+
+“In fact, you would mourn me always?”
+
+“Why yes!.. Y-es-always.” What else could she say? But would his answer
+be that he dared not condemn her to lifelong torment?
+
+“Then,” his answer was, “my joy in dying for you is made perfect.”
+
+Her muscles relaxed. Her breath escaped between her teeth. “You are
+utterly resolved?” she asked. “Are you?”
+
+“Utterly.”
+
+“Nothing I might say could change your purpose?”
+
+“Nothing.”
+
+“No entreaty, howsoever piteous, could move you?”
+
+“None.”
+
+Forthwith she urged, entreated, cajoled, commanded, with infinite
+prettiness of ingenuity and of eloquence. Never was such a cascade of
+dissuasion as hers. She only didn’t say she could love him. She never
+hinted that. Indeed, throughout her pleading rang this recurrent motif:
+that he must live to take to himself as mate some good, serious, clever
+woman who would be a not unworthy mother of his children.
+
+She laid stress on his youth, his great position, his brilliant
+attainments, the much he had already achieved, the splendid
+possibilities of his future. Though of course she spoke in undertones,
+not to be overheard by the throng on the barge, it was almost as though
+his health were being floridly proposed at some public banquet--say,
+at a Tenants’ Dinner. Insomuch that, when she ceased, the Duke half
+expected Jellings, his steward, to bob up uttering, with lifted hands, a
+stentorian “For-or,” and all the company to take up the chant: “he’s--a
+jolly good fellow.” His brief reply, on those occasions, seemed always
+to indicate that, whatever else he might be, a jolly good fellow he was
+not. But by Zuleika’s eulogy he really was touched. “Thank you--thank
+you,” he gasped; and there were tears in his eyes. Dear the thought that
+she so revered him, so wished him not to die. But this was no more than
+a rush-light in the austere radiance of his joy in dying for her.
+
+And the time was come. Now for the sacrament of his immersion in
+infinity.
+
+“Good-bye,” he said simply, and was about to swing himself on to the
+ledge of the balustrade. Zuleika, divining his intention, made way for
+him. Her bosom heaved quickly, quickly. All colour had left her face;
+but her eyes shone as never before.
+
+Already his foot was on the ledge, when hark! the sound of a distant
+gun. To Zuleika, with all the chords of her soul strung to the utmost
+tensity, the effect was as if she herself had been shot; and she
+clutched at the Duke’s arm, like a frightened child. He laughed. “It was
+the signal for the race,” he said, and laughed again, rather bitterly,
+at the crude and trivial interruption of high matters.
+
+“The race?” She laughed hysterically.
+
+“Yes. ‘They’re off’.” He mingled his laughter with hers, gently seeking
+to disengage his arm. “And perhaps,” he said, “I, clinging to the weeds
+of the river’s bed, shall see dimly the boats and the oars pass over me,
+and shall be able to gurgle a cheer for Judas.”
+
+“Don’t!” she shuddered, with a woman’s notion that a jest means levity.
+A tumult of thoughts surged in her, all confused. She only knew that
+he must not die--not yet! A moment ago, his death would have been
+beautiful. Not now! Her grip of his arm tightened. Only by breaking her
+wrist could he have freed himself. A moment ago, she had been in the
+seventh-heaven... Men were supposed to have died for love of her. It
+had never been proved. There had always been something--card-debts,
+ill-health, what not--to account for the tragedy. No man, to the best
+of her recollection, had ever hinted that he was going to die for her.
+Never, assuredly, had she seen the deed done. And then came he, the
+first man she had loved, going to die here, before her eyes, because she
+no longer loved him. But she knew now that he must not die--not yet!
+
+All around her was the hush that falls on Oxford when the signal for the
+race has sounded. In the distance could be heard faintly the noise of
+cheering--a little sing-song sound, drawing nearer.
+
+Ah, how could she have thought of letting him die so soon? She gazed
+into his face--the face she might never have seen again. Even now, but
+for that gun-shot, the waters would have closed over him, and his soul,
+maybe, have passed away. She had saved him, thank heaven! She had him
+still with her.
+
+Gently, vainly, he still sought to unclasp her fingers from his arm.
+
+“Not now!” she whispered. “Not yet!”
+
+And the noise of the cheering, and of the trumpeting and rattling, as
+it drew near, was an accompaniment to her joy in having saved her lover.
+She would keep him with her--for a while! Let all be done in order. She
+would savour the full sweetness of his sacrifice. Tomorrow--to-morrow,
+yes, let him have his heart’s desire of death. Not now! Not yet!
+
+“To-morrow,” she whispered, “to-morrow, if you will. Not yet!”
+
+The first boat came jerking past in mid-stream; and the towing-path,
+with its serried throng of runners, was like a live thing, keeping pace.
+As in a dream, Zuleika saw it. And the din was in her ears. No heroine
+of Wagner had ever a louder accompaniment than had ours to the surging
+soul within her bosom.
+
+And the Duke, tightly held by her, vibrated as to a powerful electric
+current. He let her cling to him, and her magnetism range through him.
+Ah, it was good not to have died! Fool, he had meant to drain off-hand,
+at one coarse draught, the delicate wine of death. He would let his lips
+caress the brim of the august goblet. He would dally with the aroma that
+was there.
+
+“So be it!” he cried into Zuleika’s ear--cried loudly, for it seemed as
+though all the Wagnerian orchestras of Europe, with the Straussian ones
+thrown in, were here to clash in unison the full volume of right music
+for the glory of the reprieve.
+
+The fact was that the Judas boat had just bumped Univ., exactly opposite
+the Judas barge. The oarsmen in either boat sat humped, panting, some of
+them rocking and writhing, after their wholesome exercise. But there
+was not one of them whose eyes were not upcast at Zuleika. And the
+vocalisation and instrumentation of the dancers and stampers on the
+towing-path had by this time ceased to mean aught of joy in the victors
+or of comfort for the vanquished, and had resolved itself into a wild
+wordless hymn to the glory of Miss Dobson. Behind her and all around her
+on the roof of the barge, young Judasians were venting in like manner
+their hearts through their lungs. She paid no heed. It was as if she
+stood alone with her lover on some silent pinnacle of the world. It was
+as if she were a little girl with a brand-new and very expensive doll
+which had banished all the little other old toys from her mind.
+
+She simply could not, in her naive rapture, take her eyes off her
+companion. To the dancers and stampers of the towing-path, many of whom
+were now being ferried back across the river, and to the other youths
+on the roof of the barge, Zuleika’s air of absorption must have seemed
+a little strange. For already the news that the Duke loved Zuleika, and
+that she loved him not, and would stoop to no man who loved her, had
+spread like wild-fire among the undergraduates. The two youths in whom
+the Duke had deigned to confide had not held their peace. And the effect
+that Zuleika had made as she came down to the river was intensified by
+the knowledge that not the great paragon himself did she deem worthy of
+her. The mere sight of her had captured young Oxford. The news of her
+supernal haughtiness had riveted the chains.
+
+“Come!” said the Duke at length, staring around him with the eyes of one
+awakened from a dream. “Come! I must take you back to Judas.”
+
+“But you won’t leave me there?” pleaded Zuleika. “You will stay to
+dinner? I am sure my grandfather would be delighted.”
+
+“I am sure he would,” said the Duke, as he piloted her down the steps of
+the barge. “But alas, I have to dine at the Junta to-night.”
+
+“The Junta? What is that?”
+
+“A little dining-club. It meets every Tuesday.”
+
+“But--you don’t mean you are going to refuse me for that?”
+
+“To do so is misery. But I have no choice. I have asked a guest.”
+
+“Then ask another: ask me!” Zuleika’s notions of Oxford life were rather
+hazy. It was with difficulty that the Duke made her realise that he
+could not--not even if, as she suggested, she dressed herself up as a
+man--invite her to the Junta. She then fell back on the impossibility
+that he would not dine with her to-night, his last night in this world.
+She could not understand that admirable fidelity to social engagements
+which is one of the virtues implanted in the members of our aristocracy.
+Bohemian by training and by career, she construed the Duke’s refusal as
+either a cruel slight to herself or an act of imbecility. The thought of
+being parted from her for one moment was torture to him; but “noblesse
+oblige,” and it was quite impossible for him to break an engagement
+merely because a more charming one offered itself: he would as soon have
+cheated at cards.
+
+And so, as they went side by side up the avenue, in the mellow light
+of the westering sun, preceded in their course, and pursued, and
+surrounded, by the mob of hoarse infatuate youths, Zuleika’s face was
+as that of a little girl sulking. Vainly the Duke reasoned with her. She
+could NOT see the point of view.
+
+With that sudden softening that comes to the face of an angry woman who
+has hit on a good argument, she turned to him and asked “How if I hadn’t
+saved your life just now? Much you thought about your guest when you
+were going to dive and die!”
+
+“I did not forget him,” answered the Duke, smiling at her casuistry.
+“Nor had I any scruple in disappointing him. Death cancels all
+engagements.”
+
+And Zuleika, worsted, resumed her sulking. But presently, as they neared
+Judas, she relented. It was paltry to be cross with him who had resolved
+to die for her and was going to die so on the morrow. And after all, she
+would see him at the concert to-night. They would sit together. And all
+to-morrow they would be together, till the time came for parting. Hers
+was a naturally sunny disposition. And the evening was such a lovely
+one, all bathed in gold. She was ashamed of her ill-humour.
+
+“Forgive me,” she said, touching his arm. “Forgive me for being horrid.”
+ And forgiven she promptly was. “And promise you will spend all to-morrow
+with me.” And of course he promised.
+
+As they stood together on the steps of the Warden’s front-door, exalted
+above the level of the flushed and swaying crowd that filled the whole
+length and breadth of Judas Street, she implored him not to be late for
+the concert.
+
+“I am never late,” he smiled.
+
+“Ah, you’re so beautifully brought up!”
+
+The door was opened.
+
+“And--oh, you’re beautiful besides!” she whispered; and waved her hand
+to him as she vanished into the hall.
+
+
+
+
+VIII
+
+A few minutes before half-past seven, the Duke, arrayed for dinner,
+passed leisurely up the High. The arresting feature of his costume was
+a mulberry-coloured coat, with brass buttons. This, to any one versed in
+Oxford lore, betokened him a member of the Junta. It is awful to think
+that a casual stranger might have mistaken him for a footman. It does
+not do to think of such things.
+
+The tradesmen, at the doors of their shops, bowed low as he passed,
+rubbing their hands and smiling, hoping inwardly that they took no
+liberty in sharing the cool rosy air of the evening with his Grace. They
+noted that he wore in his shirt-front a black pearl and a pink. “Daring,
+but becoming,” they opined.
+
+The rooms of the Junta were over a stationer’s shop, next door but one
+to the Mitre. They were small rooms; but as the Junta had now, besides
+the Duke, only two members, and as no member might introduce more than
+one guest, there was ample space.
+
+The Duke had been elected in his second term. At that time there were
+four members; but these were all leaving Oxford at the end of the summer
+term, and there seemed to be in the ranks of the Bullingdon and the
+Loder no one quite eligible for the Junta, that holy of holies. Thus it
+was that the Duke inaugurated in solitude his second year of membership.
+From time to time, he proposed and seconded a few candidates, after
+“sounding” them as to whether they were willing to join. But always,
+when election evening--the last Tuesday of term--drew near, he began to
+have his doubts about these fellows. This one was “rowdy”; that one
+was over-dressed; another did not ride quite straight to hounds; in the
+pedigree of another a bar-sinister was more than suspected. Election
+evening was always a rather melancholy time. After dinner, when the two
+club servants had placed on the mahogany the time-worn Candidates’ Book
+and the ballot-box, and had noiselessly withdrawn, the Duke, clearing
+his throat, read aloud to himself “Mr. So-and-So, of Such-and-Such
+College, proposed by the Duke of Dorset, seconded by the Duke of
+Dorset,” and, in every case, when he drew out the drawer of the
+ballot-box, found it was a black-ball that he had dropped into the urn.
+Thus it was that at the end of the summer term the annual photographic
+“group” taken by Messrs. Hills and Saunders was a presentment of the
+Duke alone.
+
+In the course of his third year he had become less exclusive. Not
+because there seemed to be any one really worthy of the Junta; but
+because the Junta, having thriven since the eighteenth century, must
+not die. Suppose--one never knew--he were struck by lightning, the Junta
+would be no more. So, not without reluctance, but unanimously, he had
+elected The MacQuern, of Balliol, and Sir John Marraby, of Brasenose.
+
+To-night, as he, a doomed man, went up into the familiar rooms, he was
+wholly glad that he had thus relented. As yet, he was spared the tragic
+knowledge that it would make no difference.*
+
+   * The Junta has been reconstituted. But the apostolic line was
+     broken, the thread was snapped; the old magic is fled.
+
+The MacQuern and two other young men were already there.
+
+“Mr. President,” said The MacQuern, “I present Mr. Trent-Garby, of
+Christ Church.”
+
+“The Junta is honoured,” said the Duke, bowing.
+
+Such was the ritual of the club.
+
+The other young man, because his host, Sir John Marraby, was not yet on
+the scene, had no locus standi, and, though a friend of The MacQuern,
+and well known to the Duke, had to be ignored.
+
+A moment later, Sir John arrived. “Mr. President,” he said, “I present
+Lord Sayes, of Magdalen.”
+
+“The Junta is honoured,” said the Duke, bowing.
+
+Both hosts and both guests, having been prominent in the throng that
+vociferated around Zuleika an hour earlier, were slightly abashed in
+the Duke’s presence. He, however, had not noticed any one in particular,
+and, even if he had, that fine tradition of the club--“A member of the
+Junta can do no wrong; a guest of the Junta cannot err”--would have
+prevented him from showing his displeasure.
+
+A Herculean figure filled the doorway.
+
+“The Junta is honoured,” said the Duke, bowing to his guest.
+
+“Duke,” said the newcomer quietly, “the honour is as much mine as
+that of the interesting and ancient institution which I am this night
+privileged to inspect.”
+
+Turning to Sir John and The MacQuern, the Duke said “I present Mr.
+Abimelech V. Oover, of Trinity.”
+
+“The Junta,” they replied, “is honoured.”
+
+“Gentlemen,” said the Rhodes Scholar, “your good courtesy is just such
+as I would have anticipated from members of the ancient Junta. Like most
+of my countrymen, I am a man of few words. We are habituated out there
+to act rather than talk. Judged from the view-point of your beautiful
+old civilisation, I am aware my curtness must seem crude. But,
+gentlemen, believe me, right here--”
+
+“Dinner is served, your Grace.”
+
+Thus interrupted, Mr. Oover, with the resourcefulness of a practised
+orator, brought his thanks to a quick but not abrupt conclusion. The
+little company passed into the front room.
+
+Through the window, from the High, fading daylight mingled with the
+candle-light. The mulberry coats of the hosts, interspersed by the black
+ones of the guests, made a fine pattern around the oval table a-gleam
+with the many curious pieces of gold and silver plate that had accrued
+to the Junta in course of years.
+
+The President showed much deference to his guest. He seemed to listen
+with close attention to the humorous anecdote with which, in the
+American fashion, Mr. Oover inaugurated dinner.
+
+To all Rhodes Scholars, indeed, his courtesy was invariable. He went out
+of his way to cultivate them. And this he did more as a favour to Lord
+Milner than of his own caprice. He found these Scholars, good fellows
+though they were, rather oppressive. They had not--how could they
+have?--the undergraduate’s virtue of taking Oxford as a matter of
+course. The Germans loved it too little, the Colonials too much. The
+Americans were, to a sensitive observer, the most troublesome--as being
+the most troubled--of the whole lot. The Duke was not one of those
+Englishmen who fling, or care to hear flung, cheap sneers at America.
+Whenever any one in his presence said that America was not large
+in area, he would firmly maintain that it was. He held, too, in his
+enlightened way, that Americans have a perfect right to exist. But
+he did often find himself wishing Mr. Rhodes had not enabled them to
+exercise that right in Oxford. They were so awfully afraid of having
+their strenuous native characters undermined by their delight in the
+place. They held that the future was theirs, a glorious asset, far more
+glorious than the past. But a theory, as the Duke saw, is one thing, an
+emotion another. It is so much easier to covet what one hasn’t than to
+revel in what one has. Also, it is so much easier to be enthusiastic
+about what exists than about what doesn’t. The future doesn’t exist. The
+past does. For, whereas all men can learn, the gift of prophecy has died
+out. A man cannot work up in his breast any real excitement about what
+possibly won’t happen. He cannot very well help being sentimentally
+interested in what he knows has happened. On the other hand, he owes a
+duty to his country. And, if his country be America, he ought to try to
+feel a vivid respect for the future, and a cold contempt for the past.
+Also, if he be selected by his country as a specimen of the best moral,
+physical, and intellectual type that she can produce for the astounding
+of the effete foreigner, and incidentally for the purpose of raising
+that foreigner’s tone, he must--mustn’t he?--do his best to astound,
+to exalt. But then comes in this difficulty. Young men don’t like to
+astound and exalt their fellows. And Americans, individually, are of
+all people the most anxious to please. That they talk overmuch is often
+taken as a sign of self-satisfaction. It is merely a mannerism. Rhetoric
+is a thing inbred in them. They are quite unconscious of it. It is as
+natural to them as breathing. And, while they talk on, they really do
+believe that they are a quick, businesslike people, by whom things are
+“put through” with an almost brutal abruptness. This notion of theirs is
+rather confusing to the patient English auditor.
+
+Altogether, the American Rhodes Scholars, with their splendid native
+gift of oratory, and their modest desire to please, and their not less
+evident feeling that they ought merely to edify, and their constant
+delight in all that of Oxford their English brethren don’t notice, and
+their constant fear that they are being corrupted, are a noble, rather
+than a comfortable, element in the social life of the University. So, at
+least, they seemed to the Duke.
+
+And to-night, but that he had invited Oover to dine with him, he could
+have been dining with Zuleika. And this was his last dinner on earth.
+Such thoughts made him the less able to take pleasure in his guest.
+Perfect, however, the amenity of his manner.
+
+This was the more commendable because Oover’s “aura” was even more
+disturbing than that of the average Rhodes Scholar. To-night, besides
+the usual conflicts in this young man’s bosom, raged a special one
+between his desire to behave well and his jealousy of the man who had
+to-day been Miss Dobson’s escort. In theory he denied the Duke’s right
+to that honour. In sentiment he admitted it. Another conflict, you see.
+And another. He longed to orate about the woman who had his heart; yet
+she was the one topic that must be shirked.
+
+The MacQuern and Mr. Trent-Garby, Sir John Marraby and Lord Sayes, they
+too--though they were no orators--would fain have unpacked their hearts
+in words about Zuleika. They spoke of this and that, automatically, none
+listening to another--each man listening, wide-eyed, to his own heart’s
+solo on the Zuleika theme, and drinking rather more champagne than was
+good for him. Maybe, these youths sowed in themselves, on this night,
+the seeds of lifelong intemperance. We cannot tell. They did not live
+long enough for us to know.
+
+While the six dined, a seventh, invisible to them, leaned moodily
+against the mantel-piece, watching them. He was not of their time. His
+long brown hair was knotted in a black riband behind. He wore a pale
+brocaded coat and lace ruffles, silken stockings, a sword. Privy to
+their doom, he watched them. He was loth that his Junta must die. Yes,
+his. Could the diners have seen him, they would have known him by his
+resemblance to the mezzotint portrait that hung on the wall above him.
+They would have risen to their feet in presence of Humphrey Greddon,
+founder and first president of the club.
+
+His face was not so oval, nor were his eyes so big, nor his lips so
+full, nor his hands so delicate, as they appeared in the mezzotint. Yet
+(bating the conventions of eighteenth-century portraiture) the likeness
+was a good one. Humphrey Greddon was not less well-knit and graceful
+than the painter had made him, and, hard though the lines of the face
+were, there was about him a certain air of high romance that could not
+be explained away by the fact that he was of a period not our own. You
+could understand the great love that Nellie O’Mora had borne him.
+
+Under the mezzotint hung Hoppner’s miniature of that lovely and
+ill-starred girl, with her soft dark eyes, and her curls all astray from
+beneath her little blue turban. And the Duke was telling Mr. Oover her
+story--how she had left her home for Humphrey Greddon when she was but
+sixteen, and he an undergraduate at Christ Church; and had lived for him
+in a cottage at Littlemore, whither he would ride, most days, to be with
+her; and how he tired of her, broke his oath that he would marry her,
+thereby broke her heart; and how she drowned herself in a mill-pond; and
+how Greddon was killed in Venice, two years later, duelling on the Riva
+Schiavoni with a Senator whose daughter he had seduced.
+
+And he, Greddon, was not listening very attentively to the tale. He
+had heard it told so often in this room, and he did not understand
+the sentiments of the modern world. Nellie had been a monstrous pretty
+creature. He had adored her, and had done with her. It was right that
+she should always be toasted after dinner by the Junta, as in the days
+when first he loved her--“Here’s to Nellie O’Mora, the fairest witch
+that ever was or will be!” He would have resented the omission of that
+toast. But he was sick of the pitying, melting looks that were always
+cast towards her miniature. Nellie had been beautiful, but, by God! she
+was always a dunce and a simpleton. How could he have spent his life
+with her? She was a fool, by God! not to marry that fool Trailby, of
+Merton, whom he took to see her.
+
+Mr. Oover’s moral tone, and his sense of chivalry, were of the American
+kind: far higher than ours, even, and far better expressed. Whereas the
+English guests of the Junta, when they heard the tale of Nellie O’Mora,
+would merely murmur “Poor girl!” or “What a shame!” Mr. Oover said in a
+tone of quiet authority that compelled Greddon’s ear “Duke, I hope I am
+not incognisant of the laws that govern the relations of guest and host.
+But, Duke, I aver deliberately that the founder of this fine old
+club; at which you are so splendidly entertaining me to-night, was an
+unmitigated scoundrel. I say he was not a white man.”
+
+At the word “scoundrel,” Humphrey Greddon had sprung forward, drawing
+his sword, and loudly, in a voice audible to himself alone, challenged
+the American to make good his words. Then, as this gentleman took no
+notice, with one clean straight thrust Greddon ran him through the
+heart, shouting “Die, you damned psalm-singer and traducer! And so die
+all rebels against King George!”* Withdrawing the blade, he wiped it
+daintily on his cambric handkerchief. There was no blood. Mr. Oover,
+with unpunctured shirt-front, was repeating “I say he was not a white
+man.” And Greddon remembered himself--remembered he was only a ghost,
+impalpable, impotent, of no account. “But I shall meet you in Hell
+to-morrow,” he hissed in Oover’s face. And there he was wrong. It is
+quite certain that Oover went to Heaven.
+
+   * As Edward VII. was at this time on the throne, it must have been
+     to George III. that Mr. Greddon was referring.
+
+Unable to avenge himself, Greddon had looked to the Duke to act for him.
+When he saw that this young man did but smile at Oover and make a vague
+deprecatory gesture, he again, in his wrath, forgot his disabilities.
+Drawing himself to his full height, he took with great deliberation a
+pinch of snuff, and, bowing low to the Duke, said “I am vastly obleeged
+to your Grace for the fine high Courage you have exhibited in the behalf
+of your most Admiring, most Humble Servant.” Then, having brushed away
+a speck of snuff from his jabot, he turned on his heel; and only in the
+doorway, where one of the club servants, carrying a decanter in each
+hand, walked straight through him, did he realise that he had not
+spoilt the Duke’s evening. With a volley of the most appalling
+eighteenth-century oaths, he passed back into the nether world.
+
+To the Duke, Nellie O’Mora had never been a very vital figure. He had
+often repeated the legend of her. But, having never known what love was,
+he could not imagine her rapture or her anguish. Himself the quarry of
+all Mayfair’s wise virgins, he had always--so far as he thought of
+the matter at all--suspected that Nellie’s death was due to thwarted
+ambition. But to-night, while he told Oover about her, he could see
+into her soul. Nor did he pity her. She had loved. She had known the
+one thing worth living for--and dying for. She, as she went down to the
+mill-pond, had felt just that ecstasy of self-sacrifice which he himself
+had felt to-day and would feel to-morrow. And for a while, too--for a
+full year--she had known the joy of being loved, had been for Greddon
+“the fairest witch that ever was or will be.” He could not agree with
+Oover’s long disquisition on her sufferings. And, glancing at her
+well-remembered miniature, he wondered just what it was in her that had
+captivated Greddon. He was in that blest state when a man cannot believe
+the earth has been trodden by any really beautiful or desirable lady
+save the lady of his own heart.
+
+The moment had come for the removal of the table-cloth. The mahogany of
+the Junta was laid bare--a clear dark lake, anon to reflect in its still
+and ruddy depths the candelabras and the fruit-cradles, the slender
+glasses and the stout old decanters, the forfeit-box and the snuff-box,
+and other paraphernalia of the dignity of dessert. Lucidly, and
+unwaveringly inverted in the depths these good things stood; and, so
+soon as the wine had made its circuit, the Duke rose and with uplifted
+glass proposed the first of the two toasts traditional to the Junta.
+“Gentlemen, I give you Church and State.”
+
+The toast having been honoured by all--and by none with a richer
+reverence than by Oover, despite his passionate mental reservation in
+favour of Pittsburg-Anabaptism and the Republican Ideal--the snuff-box
+was handed round, and fruit was eaten.
+
+Presently, when the wine had gone round again, the Duke rose and with
+uplifted glass said “Gentlemen, I give you--” and there halted.
+Silent, frowning, flushed, he stood for a few moments, and then, with
+a deliberate gesture, tilted his glass and let fall the wine to the
+carpet. “No,” he said, looking round the table, “I cannot give you
+Nellie O’Mora.”
+
+“Why not?” gasped Sir John Marraby.
+
+“You have a right to ask that,” said the Duke, still standing. “I can
+only say that my conscience is stronger than my sense of what is due to
+the customs of the club. Nellie O’Mora,” he said, passing his hand over
+his brow, “may have been in her day the fairest witch that ever was--so
+fair that our founder had good reason to suppose her the fairest witch
+that ever would be. But his prediction was a false one. So at least it
+seems to me. Of course I cannot both hold this view and remain President
+of this club. MacQuern--Marraby--which of you is Vice-President?”
+
+“He is,” said Marraby.
+
+“Then, MacQuern, you are hereby President, vice myself resigned. Take
+the chair and propose the toast.”
+
+“I would rather not,” said The MacQuern after a pause.
+
+“Then, Marraby, YOU must.”
+
+“Not I!” said Marraby.
+
+“Why is this?” asked the Duke, looking from one to the other.
+
+The MacQuern, with Scotch caution, was silent. But the impulsive
+Marraby--Madcap Marraby, as they called him in B.N.C.--said “It’s
+because I won’t lie!” and, leaping up, raised his glass aloft and cried
+“I give you Zuleika Dobson, the fairest witch that ever was or will be!”
+
+Mr. Oover, Lord Sayes, Mr. Trent-Garby, sprang to their feet; The
+MacQuern rose to his. “Zuleika Dobson!” they cried, and drained their
+glasses.
+
+Then, when they had resumed their seats, came an awkward pause. The
+Duke, still erect beside the chair he had vacated, looked very grave
+and pale. Marraby had taken an outrageous liberty. But “a member of the
+Junta can do no wrong,” and the liberty could not be resented. The Duke
+felt that the blame was on himself, who had elected Marraby to the club.
+
+Mr. Oover, too, looked grave. All the antiquarian in him deplored
+the sudden rupture of a fine old Oxford tradition. All the chivalrous
+American in him resented the slight on that fair victim of the feudal
+system, Miss O’Mora. And, at the same time, all the Abimelech V. in him
+rejoiced at having honoured by word and act the one woman in the world.
+
+Gazing around at the flushed faces and heaving shirt-fronts of the
+diners, the Duke forgot Marraby’s misdemeanour. What mattered far more
+to him was that here were five young men deeply under the spell of
+Zuleika. They must be saved, if possible. He knew how strong his
+influence was in the University. He knew also how strong was Zuleika’s.
+He had not much hope of the issue. But his new-born sense of duty to his
+fellows spurred him on. “Is there,” he asked with a bitter smile, “any
+one of you who doesn’t with his whole heart love Miss Dobson?”
+
+Nobody held up a hand.
+
+“As I feared,” said the Duke, knowing not that if a hand had been held
+up he would have taken it as a personal insult. No man really in love
+can forgive another for not sharing his ardour. His jealousy for himself
+when his beloved prefers another man is hardly a stronger passion than
+his jealousy for her when she is not preferred to all other women.
+
+“You know her only by sight--by repute?” asked the Duke. They signified
+that this was so. “I wish you would introduce me to her,” said Marraby.
+
+“You are all coming to the Judas concert tonight?” the Duke asked,
+ignoring Marraby. “You have all secured tickets?” They nodded. “To hear
+me play, or to see Miss Dobson?” There was a murmur of “Both--both.”
+ “And you would all of you, like Marraby, wish to be presented to this
+lady?” Their eyes dilated. “That way happiness lies, think you?”
+
+“Oh, happiness be hanged!” said Marraby.
+
+To the Duke this seemed a profoundly sane remark--an epitome of his own
+sentiments. But what was right for himself was not right for all. He
+believed in convention as the best way for average mankind. And so,
+slowly, calmly, he told to his fellow-diners just what he had told a few
+hours earlier to those two young men in Salt Cellar. Not knowing that
+his words had already been spread throughout Oxford, he was rather
+surprised that they seemed to make no sensation. Quite flat, too, fell
+his appeal that the syren be shunned by all.
+
+Mr. Oover, during his year of residence, had been sorely tried by the
+quaint old English custom of not making public speeches after private
+dinners. It was with a deep sigh of satisfaction that he now rose to his
+feet.
+
+“Duke,” he said in a low voice, which yet penetrated to every corner
+of the room, “I guess I am voicing these gentlemen when I say that your
+words show up your good heart, all the time. Your mentality, too, is
+bully, as we all predicate. One may say without exaggeration that your
+scholarly and social attainments are a by-word throughout the solar
+system, and be-yond. We rightly venerate you as our boss. Sir, we
+worship the ground you walk on. But we owe a duty to our own free and
+independent manhood. Sir, we worship the ground Miss Z. Dobson treads
+on. We have pegged out a claim right there. And from that location
+we aren’t to be budged--not for bob-nuts. We asseverate we
+squat--where--we--squat, come--what--will. You say we have no chance to
+win Miss Z. Dobson. That--we--know. We aren’t worthy. We lie prone. Let
+her walk over us. You say her heart is cold. We don’t pro-fess we
+can take the chill off. But, Sir, we can’t be diverted out of loving
+her--not even by you, Sir. No, Sir! We love her, and--shall, and--will,
+Sir, with--our--latest breath.”
+
+This peroration evoked loud applause. “I love her, and shall, and will,”
+ shouted each man. And again they honoured in wine her image. Sir John
+Marraby uttered a cry familiar in the hunting-field. The MacQuern
+contributed a few bars of a sentimental ballad in the dialect of his
+country. “Hurrah, hurrah!” shouted Mr. Trent-Garby. Lord Sayes hummed
+the latest waltz, waving his arms to its rhythm, while the wine he had
+just spilt on his shirt-front trickled unheeded to his waistcoat. Mr.
+Oover gave the Yale cheer.
+
+The genial din was wafted down through the open window to the
+passers-by. The wine-merchant across the way heard it, and smiled
+pensively. “Youth, youth!” he murmured.
+
+The genial din grew louder.
+
+At any other time, the Duke would have been jarred by the disgrace to
+the Junta. But now, as he stood with bent head, covering his face with
+his hands, he thought only of the need to rid these young men, here
+and now, of the influence that had befallen them. To-morrow his tragic
+example might be too late, the mischief have sunk too deep, the agony be
+life-long. His good breeding forbade him to cast over a dinner-table the
+shadow of his death. His conscience insisted that he must. He uncovered
+his face, and held up one hand for silence.
+
+“We are all of us,” he said, “old enough to remember vividly the
+demonstrations made in the streets of London when war was declared
+between us and the Transvaal Republic. You, Mr. Oover, doubtless heard
+in America the echoes of those ebullitions. The general idea was that
+the war was going to be a very brief and simple affair--what was called
+‘a walk-over.’ To me, though I was only a small boy, it seemed that all
+this delirious pride in the prospect of crushing a trumpery foe argued
+a defect in our sense of proportion. Still, I was able to understand the
+demonstrators’ point of view. To ‘the giddy vulgar’ any sort of victory
+is pleasant. But defeat? If, when that war was declared, every one had
+been sure that not only should we fail to conquer the Transvaal, but
+that IT would conquer US--that not only would it make good its freedom
+and independence, but that we should forfeit ours--how would the
+cits have felt then? Would they not have pulled long faces, spoken in
+whispers, wept? You must forgive me for saying that the noise you have
+just made around this table was very like to the noise made on the verge
+of the Boer War. And your procedure seems to me as unaccountable as
+would have seemed the antics of those mobs if England had been plainly
+doomed to disaster and to vassalage. My guest here to-night, in the
+course of his very eloquent and racy speech, spoke of the need that he
+and you should preserve your ‘free and independent manhood.’ That seemed
+to me an irreproachable ideal. But I confess I was somewhat taken aback
+by my friend’s scheme for realising it. He declared his intention of
+lying prone and letting Miss Dobson ‘walk over’ him; and he advised you
+to follow his example; and to this counsel you gave evident approval.
+Gentlemen, suppose that on the verge of the aforesaid war, some orator
+had said to the British people ‘It is going to be a walk-over for our
+enemy in the field. Mr. Kruger holds us in the hollow of his hand.
+In subjection to him we shall find our long-lost freedom and
+independence’--what would have been Britannia’s answer? What, on
+reflection, is yours to Mr. Oover? What are Mr. Oover’s own second
+thoughts?” The Duke paused, with a smile to his guest.
+
+“Go right ahead, Duke,” said Mr. Oover. “I’ll re-ply when my turn
+comes.”
+
+“And not utterly demolish me, I hope,” said the Duke. His was the Oxford
+manner. “Gentlemen,” he continued, “is it possible that Britannia would
+have thrown her helmet in the air, shrieking ‘Slavery for ever’? You,
+gentlemen, seem to think slavery a pleasant and an honourable state. You
+have less experience of it than I. I have been enslaved to Miss Dobson
+since yesterday evening; you, only since this afternoon; I, at close
+quarters; you, at a respectful distance. Your fetters have not galled
+you yet. MY wrists, MY ankles, are excoriated. The iron has entered into
+my soul. I droop. I stumble. Blood flows from me. I quiver and curse. I
+writhe. The sun mocks me. The moon titters in my face. I can stand it no
+longer. I will no more of it. Tomorrow I die.”
+
+The flushed faces of the diners grew gradually pale. Their eyes lost
+lustre. Their tongues clove to the roofs of their mouths.
+
+At length, almost inaudibly, The MacQuern asked “Do you mean you are
+going to commit suicide?”
+
+“Yes,” said the Duke, “if you choose to put it in that way. Yes. And it
+is only by a chance that I did not commit suicide this afternoon.”
+
+“You--don’t--say,” gasped Mr. Oover.
+
+“I do indeed,” said the Duke. “And I ask you all to weigh well my
+message.”
+
+“But--but does Miss Dobson know?” asked Sir John.
+
+“Oh yes,” was the reply. “Indeed, it was she who persuaded me not to die
+till to-morrow.”
+
+“But--but,” faltered Lord Sayes, “I saw her saying good-bye to you in
+Judas Street. And--and she looked quite--as if nothing had happened.”
+
+“Nothing HAD happened,” said the Duke. “And she was very much pleased
+to have me still with her. But she isn’t so cruel as to hinder me from
+dying for her to-morrow. I don’t think she exactly fixed the hour. It
+shall be just after the Eights have been rowed. An earlier death would
+mark in me a lack of courtesy to that contest... It seems strange to
+you that I should do this thing? Take warning by me. Muster all your
+will-power, and forget Miss Dobson. Tear up your tickets for the
+concert. Stay here and play cards. Play high. Or rather, go back to your
+various Colleges, and speed the news I have told you. Put all Oxford on
+its guard against this woman who can love no lover. Let all Oxford
+know that I, Dorset, who had so much reason to love life--I, the
+nonpareil--am going to die for the love I bear this woman. And let no
+man think I go unwilling. I am no lamb led to the slaughter. I am priest
+as well as victim. I offer myself up with a pious joy. But enough
+of this cold Hebraism! It is ill-attuned to my soul’s mood.
+Self-sacrifice--bah! Regard me as a voluptuary. I am that. All my
+baffled ardour speeds me to the bosom of Death. She is gentle and
+wanton. She knows I could never have loved her for her own sake. She
+has no illusions about me. She knows well I come to her because not
+otherwise may I quench my passion.”
+
+There was a long silence. The Duke, looking around at the bent heads and
+drawn mouths of his auditors, saw that his words had gone home. It was
+Marraby who revealed how powerfully home they had gone.
+
+“Dorset,” he said huskily, “I shall die too.”
+
+The Duke flung up his hands, staring wildly.
+
+“I stand in with that,” said Mr. Oover.
+
+“So do I!” said Lord Sayes. “And I!” said Mr. Trent-Garby; “And I!” The
+MacQuern.
+
+The Duke found voice. “Are you mad?” he asked, clutching at his throat.
+“Are you all mad?”
+
+“No, Duke,” said Mr. Oover. “Or, if we are, you have no right to be at
+large. You have shown us the way. We--take it.”
+
+“Just so,” said The MacQuern, stolidly.
+
+“Listen, you fools,” cried the Duke. But through the open window came
+the vibrant stroke of some clock. He wheeled round, plucked out his
+watch--nine!--the concert!--his promise not to be late!--Zuleika!
+
+All other thoughts vanished. In an instant he dodged beneath the sash
+of the window. From the flower-box he sprang to the road beneath. (The
+facade of the house is called, to this day, Dorset’s Leap.) Alighting
+with the legerity of a cat, he swerved leftward in the recoil, and was
+off, like a streak of mulberry-coloured lightning, down the High.
+
+The other men had rushed to the window, fearing the worst. “No,” cried
+Oover. “That’s all right. Saves time!” and he raised himself on to the
+window-box. It splintered under his weight. He leapt heavily but well,
+followed by some uprooted geraniums. Squaring his shoulders, he threw
+back his head, and doubled down the slope.
+
+There was a violent jostle between the remaining men. The MacQuern
+cannily got out of it, and rushed downstairs. He emerged at the
+front-door just after Marraby touched ground. The Baronet’s left ankle
+had twisted under him. His face was drawn with pain as he hopped down
+the High on his right foot, fingering his ticket for the concert. Next
+leapt Lord Sayes. And last of all leapt Mr. Trent-Garby, who, catching
+his foot in the ruined flower-box, fell headlong, and was, I regret to
+say, killed. Lord Sayes passed Sir John in a few paces. The MacQuern
+overtook Mr. Oover at St. Mary’s and outstripped him in Radcliffe
+Square. The Duke came in an easy first.
+
+Youth, youth!
+
+
+
+
+IX
+
+Across the Front Quadrangle, heedless of the great crowd to right and
+left, Dorset rushed. Up the stone steps to the Hall he bounded, and
+only on the Hall’s threshold was he brought to a pause. The doorway
+was blocked by the backs of youths who had by hook and crook secured
+standing-room. The whole scene was surprisingly unlike that of the
+average College concert.
+
+“Let me pass,” said the Duke, rather breathlessly. “Thank you. Make way
+please. Thanks.” And with quick-pulsing heart he made his way down the
+aisle to the front row. There awaited him a surprise that was like a
+douche of cold water full in his face. Zuleika was not there! It had
+never occurred to him that she herself might not be punctual.
+
+The Warden was there, reading his programme with an air of great
+solemnity. “Where,” asked the Duke, “is your grand-daughter?” His tone
+was as of a man saying “If she is dead, don’t break it gently to me.”
+
+“My grand-daughter?” said the Warden. “Ah, Duke, good evening.”
+
+“She’s not ill?”
+
+“Oh no, I think not. She said something about changing the dress she
+wore at dinner. She will come.” And the Warden thanked his young friend
+for the great kindness he had shown to Zuleika. He hoped the Duke had
+not let her worry him with her artless prattle. “She seems to be a good,
+amiable girl,” he added, in his detached way.
+
+Sitting beside him, the Duke looked curiously at the venerable profile,
+as at a mummy’s. To think that this had once been a man! To think that
+his blood flowed in the veins of Zuleika! Hitherto the Duke had seen
+nothing grotesque in him--had regarded him always as a dignified
+specimen of priest and scholar. Such a life as the Warden’s, year
+following year in ornamental seclusion from the follies and fusses of
+the world, had to the Duke seemed rather admirable and enviable. Often
+he himself had (for a minute or so) meditated taking a fellowship at All
+Souls and spending here in Oxford the greater part of his life. He had
+never been young, and it never had occurred to him that the Warden had
+been young once. To-night he saw the old man in a new light--saw that
+he was mad. Here was a man who--for had he not married and begotten a
+child?--must have known, in some degree, the emotion of love. How, after
+that, could he have gone on thus, year by year, rusting among his
+books, asking no favour of life, waiting for death without a sign of
+impatience? Why had he not killed himself long ago? Why cumbered he the
+earth?
+
+On the dais an undergraduate was singing a song entitled “She Loves Not
+Me.” Such plaints are apt to leave us unharrowed. Across the footlights
+of an opera-house, the despair of some Italian tenor in red tights and
+a yellow wig may be convincing enough. Not so, at a concert, the despair
+of a shy British amateur in evening dress. The undergraduate on the
+dais, fumbling with his sheet of music while he predicted that only when
+he were “laid within the church-yard cold and grey” would his lady
+begin to pity him, seemed to the Duke rather ridiculous; but not half so
+ridiculous as the Warden. This fictitious love-affair was less nugatory
+than the actual humdrum for which Dr. Dobson had sold his soul to the
+devil. Also, little as one might suspect it, the warbler was perhaps
+expressing a genuine sentiment. Zuleika herself, belike, was in his
+thoughts.
+
+As he began the second stanza, predicting that when his lady died too
+the angels of heaven would bear her straight to him, the audience heard
+a loud murmur, or subdued roar, outside the Hall. And after a few bars
+the warbler suddenly ceased, staring straight in front of him as though
+he saw a vision. Automatically, all heads veered in the direction of his
+gaze. From the entrance, slowly along the aisle, came Zuleika, brilliant
+in black.
+
+To the Duke, who had rapturously risen, she nodded and smiled as
+she swerved down on the chair beside him. She looked to him somehow
+different. He had quite forgiven her for being late: her mere presence
+was a perfect excuse. And the very change in her, though he could not
+define it, was somehow pleasing to him. He was about to question
+her, but she shook her head and held up to her lips a black-gloved
+forefinger, enjoining silence for the singer, who, with dogged British
+pluck, had harked back to the beginning of the second stanza. When his
+task was done and he shuffled down from the dais, he received a great
+ovation. Zuleika, in the way peculiar to persons who are in the habit of
+appearing before the public, held her hands well above the level of
+her brow, and clapped them with a vigour demonstrative not less of her
+presence than of her delight.
+
+“And now,” she asked, turning to the Duke, “do you see? do you see?”
+
+“Something, yes. But what?”
+
+“Isn’t it plain?” Lightly she touched the lobe of her left ear. “Aren’t
+you flattered?”
+
+He knew now what made the difference. It was that her little face was
+flanked by two black pearls.
+
+“Think,” said she, “how deeply I must have been brooding over you since
+we parted!”
+
+“Is this really,” he asked, pointing to the left ear-ring, “the pearl
+you wore to-day?”
+
+“Yes. Isn’t it strange? A man ought to be pleased when a woman goes
+quite unconsciously into mourning for him--goes just because she really
+does mourn him.”
+
+“I am more than pleased. I am touched. When did the change come?”
+
+“I don’t know. I only noticed it after dinner, when I saw myself in the
+mirror. All through dinner I had been thinking of you and of--well, of
+to-morrow. And this dear sensitive pink pearl had again expressed my
+soul. And there was I, in a yellow gown with green embroideries, gay
+as a jacamar, jarring hideously on myself. I covered my eyes and rushed
+upstairs, rang the bell and tore my things off. My maid was very cross.”
+
+Cross! The Duke was shot through with envy of one who was in a position
+to be unkind to Zuleika. “Happy maid!” he murmured. Zuleika replied that
+he was stealing her thunder: hadn’t she envied the girl at his lodgings?
+“But I,” she said, “wanted only to serve you in meekness. The idea of
+ever being pert to you didn’t enter into my head. You show a side of
+your character as unpleasing as it was unforeseen.”
+
+“Perhaps then,” said the Duke, “it is as well that I am going to die.”
+ She acknowledged his rebuke with a pretty gesture of penitence. “You
+may have been faultless in love,” he added; “but you would not have laid
+down your life for me.”
+
+“Oh,” she answered, “wouldn’t I though? You don’t know me. That is just
+the sort of thing I should have loved to do. I am much more romantic
+than you are, really. I wonder,” she said, glancing at his breast, “if
+YOUR pink pearl would have turned black? And I wonder if YOU would have
+taken the trouble to change that extraordinary coat you are wearing?”
+
+In sooth, no costume could have been more beautifully Cimmerian than
+Zuleika’s. And yet, thought the Duke, watching her as the concert
+proceeded, the effect of her was not lugubrious. Her darkness shone.
+The black satin gown she wore was a stream of shifting high-lights.
+Big black diamonds were around her throat and wrists, and tiny black
+diamonds starred the fan she wielded. In her hair gleamed a great
+raven’s wing. And brighter, brighter than all these were her eyes.
+Assuredly no, there was nothing morbid about her. Would one even
+(wondered the Duke, for a disloyal instant) go so far as to say she was
+heartless? Ah no, she was merely strong. She was one who could tread the
+tragic plane without stumbling, and be resilient in the valley of the
+shadow. What she had just said was no more than the truth: she would
+have loved to die for him, had he not forfeited her heart. She would
+have asked no tears. That she had none to shed for him now, that she did
+but share his exhilaration, was the measure of her worthiness to have
+the homage of his self-slaughter.
+
+“By the way,” she whispered, “I want to ask one little favour of you.
+Will you, please, at the last moment to-morrow, call out my name in a
+loud voice, so that every one around can hear?”
+
+“Of course I will.”
+
+“So that no one shall ever be able to say it wasn’t for me that you
+died, you know.”
+
+“May I use simply your Christian name?”
+
+“Yes, I really don’t see why you shouldn’t--at such a moment.”
+
+“Thank you.” His face glowed.
+
+Thus did they commune, these two, radiant without and within. And behind
+them, throughout the Hall, the undergraduates craned their necks for
+a glimpse. The Duke’s piano solo, which was the last item in the first
+half of the programme, was eagerly awaited. Already, whispered first
+from the lips of Oover and the others who had come on from the Junta,
+the news of his resolve had gone from ear to ear among the men. He, for
+his part, had forgotten the scene at the Junta, the baleful effect of
+his example. For him the Hall was a cave of solitude--no one there but
+Zuleika and himself. Yet almost, like the late Mr. John Bright, he heard
+in the air the beating of the wings of the Angel of Death. Not awful
+wings; little wings that sprouted from the shoulders of a rosy and
+blindfold child. Love and Death--for him they were exquisitely one. And
+it seemed to him, when his turn came to play, that he floated, rather
+than walked, to the dais.
+
+He had not considered what he would play tonight. Nor, maybe, was he
+conscious now of choosing. His fingers caressed the keyboard vaguely;
+and anon this ivory had voice and language; and for its master, and for
+some of his hearers, arose a vision. And it was as though in delicate
+procession, very slowly, listless with weeping, certain figures passed
+by, hooded, and drooping forasmuch as by the loss of him whom they were
+following to his grave their own hold on life had been loosened. He
+had been so beautiful and young. Lo, he was but a burden to be carried
+hence, dust to be hidden out of sight. Very slowly, very wretchedly they
+went by. But, as they went, another feeling, faint at first, an all but
+imperceptible current, seemed to flow through the procession; and now
+one, now another of the mourners would look wanly up, with cast-back
+hood, as though listening; and anon all were listening on their way,
+first in wonder, then in rapture; for the soul of their friend was
+singing to them: they heard his voice, but clearer and more blithe than
+they had ever known it--a voice etherealised by a triumph of joy that
+was not yet for them to share. But presently the voice receded, its
+echoes dying away into the sphere whence it came. It ceased; and the
+mourners were left alone again with their sorrow, and passed on all
+unsolaced, and drooping, weeping.
+
+Soon after the Duke had begun to play, an invisible figure came and
+stood by and listened; a frail man, dressed in the fashion of 1840; the
+shade of none other than Frederic Chopin. Behind whom, a moment later,
+came a woman of somewhat masculine aspect and dominant demeanour,
+mounting guard over him, and, as it were, ready to catch him if he fell.
+He bowed his head lower and lower, he looked up with an ecstasy more
+and more intense, according to the procedure of his Marche Funebre. And
+among the audience, too, there was a bowing and uplifting of heads, just
+as among the figures of the mourners evoked. Yet the head of the player
+himself was all the while erect, and his face glad and serene. Nobly
+sensitive as was his playing of the mournful passages, he smiled
+brilliantly through them.
+
+And Zuleika returned his gaze with a smile not less gay. She was not
+sure what he was playing. But she assumed that it was for her, and that
+the music had some reference to his impending death. She was one of the
+people who say “I don’t know anything about music really, but I know
+what I like.” And she liked this; and she beat time to it with her fan.
+She thought her Duke looked very handsome. She was proud of him. Strange
+that this time yesterday she had been wildly in love with him! Strange,
+too, that this time to-morrow he would be dead! She was immensely glad
+she had saved him this afternoon. To-morrow! There came back to her what
+he had told her about the omen at Tankerton, that stately home: “On the
+eve of the death of a Duke of Dorset, two black owls come always and
+perch on the battlements. They remain there through the night, hooting.
+At dawn they fly away, none knows whither.” Perhaps, thought she, at
+this very moment these two birds were on the battlements.
+
+The music ceased. In the hush that followed it, her applause rang sharp
+and notable. Not so Chopin’s. Of him and his intense excitement none but
+his companion was aware. “Plus fin que Pachmann!” he reiterated, waving
+his arms wildly, and dancing.
+
+“Tu auras une migraine affreuse. Rentrons, petit coeur!” said George
+Sand, gently but firmly.
+
+“Laisse-moi le saluer,” cried the composer, struggling in her grasp.
+
+“Demain soir, oui. Il sera parmi nous,” said the novelist, as she
+hurried him away. “Moi aussi,” she added to herself, “je me promets un
+beau plaisir en faisant la connaissance de ce jeune homme.”
+
+Zuleika was the first to rise as “ce jeune homme” came down from the
+dais. Now was the interval between the two parts of the programme.
+There was a general creaking and scraping of pushed-back chairs as the
+audience rose and went forth into the night. The noise aroused from
+sleep the good Warden, who, having peered at his programme, complimented
+the Duke with old-world courtesy and went to sleep again. Zuleika,
+thrusting her fan under one arm, shook the player by both hands. Also,
+she told him that she knew nothing about music really, but that she
+knew what she liked. As she passed with him up the aisle, she said this
+again. People who say it are never tired of saying it.
+
+Outside, the crowd was greater than ever. All the undergraduates from
+all the Colleges seemed now to be concentrated in the great Front
+Quadrangle of Judas. Even in the glow of the Japanese lanterns that hung
+around in honour of the concert, the faces of the lads looked a little
+pale. For it was known by all now that the Duke was to die. Even while
+the concert was in progress, the news had spread out from the Hall,
+through the thronged doorway, down the thronged steps, to the confines
+of the crowd. Nor had Oover and the other men from the Junta made any
+secret of their own determination. And now, as the rest saw Zuleika
+yet again at close quarters, and verified their remembrance of her, the
+half-formed desire in them to die too was hardened to a vow.
+
+You cannot make a man by standing a sheep on its hind-legs. But by
+standing a flock of sheep in that position you can make a crowd of men.
+If man were not a gregarious animal, the world might have achieved, by
+this time, some real progress towards civilisation. Segregate him, and
+he is no fool. But let him loose among his fellows, and he is lost--he
+becomes just an unit in unreason. If any one of the undergraduates had
+met Miss Dobson in the desert of Sahara, he would have fallen in love
+with her; but not one in a thousand of them would have wished to die
+because she did not love him. The Duke’s was a peculiar case. For him to
+fall in love was itself a violent peripety, bound to produce a violent
+upheaval; and such was his pride that for his love to be unrequited
+would naturally enamour him of death. These other, these quite ordinary,
+young men were the victims less of Zuleika than of the Duke’s example,
+and of one another. A crowd, proportionately to its size, magnifies all
+that in its units pertains to the emotions, and diminishes all that in
+them pertains to thought. It was because these undergraduates were a
+crowd that their passion for Zuleika was so intense; and it was because
+they were a crowd that they followed so blindly the lead given to them.
+To die for Miss Dobson was “the thing to do.” The Duke was going to do
+it. The Junta was going to do it. It is a hateful fact, but we must face
+the fact, that snobbishness was one of the springs to the tragedy here
+chronicled.
+
+We may set to this crowd’s credit that it refrained now from following
+Zuleika. Not one of the ladies present was deserted by her escort. All
+the men recognised the Duke’s right to be alone with Zuleika now. We may
+set also to their credit that they carefully guarded the ladies from all
+knowledge of what was afoot.
+
+Side by side, the great lover and his beloved wandered away, beyond the
+light of the Japanese lanterns, and came to Salt Cellar.
+
+The moon, like a gardenia in the night’s button-hole--but no! why should
+a writer never be able to mention the moon without likening her to
+something else--usually something to which she bears not the faintest
+resemblance?... The moon, looking like nothing whatsoever but herself,
+was engaged in her old and futile endeavour to mark the hours correctly
+on the sun-dial at the centre of the lawn. Never, except once, late one
+night in the eighteenth century, when the toper who was Sub-Warden had
+spent an hour in trying to set his watch here, had she received the
+slightest encouragement. Still she wanly persisted. And this was the
+more absurd in her because Salt Cellar offered very good scope for those
+legitimate effects of hers which we one and all admire. Was it nothing
+to her to have cut those black shadows across the cloisters? Was
+it nothing to her that she so magically mingled her rays with the
+candle-light shed forth from Zuleika’s bedroom? Nothing, that she
+had cleansed the lawn of all its colour, and made of it a platform of
+silver-grey, fit for fairies to dance on?
+
+If Zuleika, as she paced the gravel path, had seen how transfigured--how
+nobly like the Tragic Muse--she was just now, she could not have gone on
+bothering the Duke for a keepsake of the tragedy that was to be.
+
+She was still set on having his two studs. He was still firm in his
+refusal to misappropriate those heirlooms. In vain she pointed out to
+him that the pearls he meant, the white ones, no longer existed; that
+the pearls he was wearing were no more “entailed” than if he had got
+them yesterday. “And you actually DID get them yesterday,” she said.
+“And from me. And I want them back.”
+
+“You are ingenious,” he admitted. “I, in my simple way, am but head of
+the Tanville-Tankerton family. Had you accepted my offer of marriage,
+you would have had the right to wear these two pearls during your
+life-time. I am very happy to die for you. But tamper with the property
+of my successor I cannot and will not. I am sorry,” he added.
+
+“Sorry!” echoed Zuleika. “Yes, and you were ‘sorry’ you couldn’t dine
+with me to-night. But any little niggling scruple is more to you than I
+am. What old maids men are!” And viciously with her fan she struck one
+of the cloister pillars.
+
+Her outburst was lost on the Duke. At her taunt about his not dining
+with her, he had stood still, clapping one hand to his brow. The events
+of the early evening swept back to him--his speech, its unforeseen and
+horrible reception. He saw again the preternaturally solemn face of
+Oover, and the flushed faces of the rest. He had thought, as he pointed
+down to the abyss over which he stood, these fellows would recoil,
+and pull themselves together. They had recoiled, and pulled themselves
+together, only in the manner of athletes about to spring. He was
+responsible for them. His own life was his to lose: others he must
+not squander. Besides, he had reckoned to die alone, unique; aloft and
+apart... “There is something--something I had forgotten,” he said to
+Zuleika, “something that will be a great shock to you”; and he gave her
+an outline of what had passed at the Junta.
+
+“And you are sure they really MEANT it?” she asked in a voice that
+trembled.
+
+“I fear so. But they were over-excited. They will recant their folly. I
+shall force them to.”
+
+“They are not children. You yourself have just been calling them ‘men.’
+Why should they obey you?”
+
+She turned at sound of a footstep, and saw a young man approaching. He
+wore a coat like the Duke’s, and in his hand he dangled a handkerchief.
+He bowed awkwardly, and, holding out the handkerchief, said to her “I
+beg your pardon, but I think you dropped this. I have just picked it
+up.”
+
+Zuleika looked at the handkerchief, which was obviously a man’s, and
+smilingly shook her head.
+
+“I don’t think you know The MacQuern,” said the Duke, with sulky grace.
+“This,” he said to the intruder, “is Miss Dobson.”
+
+“And is it really true,” asked Zuleika, retaining The MacQuern’s hand,
+“that you want to die for me?”
+
+Well, the Scots are a self-seeking and a resolute, but a shy, race;
+swift to act, when swiftness is needed, but seldom knowing quite what to
+say. The MacQuern, with native reluctance to give something for nothing,
+had determined to have the pleasure of knowing the young lady for whom
+he was to lay down his life; and this purpose he had, by the simple
+stratagem of his own handkerchief, achieved. Nevertheless, in answer to
+Zuleika’s question, and with the pressure of her hand to inspire him,
+the only word that rose to his lips was “Ay” (which may be roughly
+translated as “Yes”).
+
+“You will do nothing of the sort,” interposed the Duke.
+
+“There,” said Zuleika, still retaining The MacQuern’s hand, “you see, it
+is forbidden. You must not defy our dear little Duke. He is not used to
+it. It is not done.”
+
+“I don’t know,” said The MacQuern, with a stony glance at the Duke,
+“that he has anything to do with the matter.”
+
+“He is older and wiser than you. More a man of the world. Regard him as
+your tutor.”
+
+“Do YOU want me not to die for you?” asked the young man.
+
+“Ah, _I_ should not dare to impose my wishes on you,” said she, dropping
+his hand. “Even,” she added, “if I knew what my wishes were. And I
+don’t. I know only that I think it is very, very beautiful of you to
+think of dying for me.”
+
+“Then that settles it,” said The MacQuern.
+
+“No, no! You must not let yourself be influenced by ME. Besides, I am
+not in a mood to influence anybody. I am overwhelmed. Tell me,” she
+said, heedless of the Duke, who stood tapping his heel on the ground,
+with every manifestation of disapproval and impatience, “tell me, is it
+true that some of the other men love me too, and--feel as you do?”
+
+The MacQuern said cautiously that he could answer for no one but
+himself. “But,” he allowed, “I saw a good many men whom I know, outside
+the Hall here, just now, and they seemed to have made up their minds.”
+
+“To die for me? To-morrow?”
+
+“To-morrow. After the Eights, I suppose; at the same time as the Duke.
+It wouldn’t do to leave the races undecided.”
+
+“Of COURSE not. But the poor dears! It is too touching! I have done
+nothing, nothing to deserve it.”
+
+“Nothing whatsoever,” said the Duke drily.
+
+“Oh HE,” said Zuleika, “thinks me an unredeemed brute; just because I
+don’t love him. YOU, dear Mr. MacQuern--does one call you ‘Mr.’? ‘The’
+would sound so odd in the vocative. And I can’t very well call you
+‘MacQuern’--YOU don’t think me unkind, do you? I simply can’t bear to
+think of all these young lives cut short without my having done a thing
+to brighten them. What can I do?--what can I do to show my gratitude?”
+
+An idea struck her. She looked up to the lit window of her room.
+“Melisande!” she called.
+
+A figure appeared at the window. “Mademoiselle desire?”
+
+“My tricks, Melisande! Bring down the box, quick!” She turned excitedly
+to the two young men. “It is all I can do in return, you see. If I could
+dance for them, I would. If I could sing, I would sing to them. I do
+what I can. You,” she said to the Duke, “must go on to the platform and
+announce it.”
+
+“Announce what?”
+
+“Why, that I am going to do my tricks! All you need say is ‘Ladies and
+gentlemen, I have the pleasure to--’ What is the matter now?”
+
+“You make me feel slightly unwell,” said the Duke.
+
+“And YOU are the most d-dis-disobliging and the unkindest and the
+b-beastliest person I ever met,” Zuleika sobbed at him through her
+hands. The MacQuern glared reproaches at him. So did Melisande, who had
+just appeared through the postern, holding in her arms the great casket
+of malachite. A painful scene; and the Duke gave in. He said he would do
+anything--anything. Peace was restored.
+
+The MacQuern had relieved Melisande of her burden; and to him was the
+privilege of bearing it, in procession with his adored and her quelled
+mentor, towards the Hall.
+
+Zuleika babbled like a child going to a juvenile party. This was the
+great night, as yet, in her life. Illustrious enough already it had
+seemed to her, as eve of that ultimate flattery vowed her by the Duke.
+So fine a thing had his doom seemed to her--his doom alone--that it had
+sufficed to flood her pink pearl with the right hue. And now not on him
+alone need she ponder. Now he was but the centre of a group--a group
+that might grow and grow--a group that might with a little encouragement
+be a multitude... With such hopes dimly whirling in the recesses of her
+soul, her beautiful red lips babbled.
+
+
+
+
+X
+
+Sounds of a violin, drifting out through the open windows of the
+Hall, suggested that the second part of the concert had begun. All the
+undergraduates, however, except the few who figured in the programme,
+had waited outside till their mistress should re-appear. The sisters
+and cousins of the Judas men had been escorted back to their places and
+hurriedly left there.
+
+It was a hushed, tense crowd.
+
+“The poor darlings!” murmured Zuleika, pausing to survey them. “And oh,”
+ she exclaimed, “there won’t be room for all of them in there!”
+
+“You might give an ‘overflow’ performance out here afterwards,”
+ suggested the Duke, grimly.
+
+This idea flashed on her a better. Why not give her performance here and
+now?--now, so eager was she for contact, as it were, with this crowd;
+here, by moonlight, in the pretty glow of these paper lanterns. Yes,
+she said, let it be here and now; and she bade the Duke make the
+announcement.
+
+“What shall I say?” he asked. “‘Gentlemen, I have the pleasure to
+announce that Miss Zuleika Dobson, the world-renowned She-Wizard, will
+now oblige’? Or shall I call them ‘Gents,’ tout court?”
+
+She could afford to laugh at his ill-humour. She had his promise of
+obedience. She told him to say something graceful and simple.
+
+The noise of the violin had ceased. There was not a breath of wind. The
+crowd in the quadrangle was as still and as silent as the night itself.
+Nowhere a tremour. And it was borne in on Zuleika that this crowd had
+one mind as well as one heart--a common resolve, calm and clear, as well
+as a common passion. No need for her to strengthen the spell now. No
+waverers here. And thus it came true that gratitude was the sole motive
+for her display.
+
+She stood with eyes downcast and hands folded behind her, moonlit in
+the glow of lanterns, modest to the point of pathos, while the Duke
+gracefully and simply introduced her to the multitude. He was, he said,
+empowered by the lady who stood beside him to say that she would be
+pleased to give them an exhibition of her skill in the art to which
+she had devoted her life--an art which, more potently perhaps than any
+other, touched in mankind the sense of mystery and stirred the faculty
+of wonder; the most truly romantic of all the arts: he referred to the
+art of conjuring. It was not too much to say that by her mastery of this
+art, in which hitherto, it must be confessed, women had made no very
+great mark, Miss Zuleika Dobson (for such was the name of the lady who
+stood beside him) had earned the esteem of the whole civilised world.
+And here in Oxford, and in this College especially, she had a peculiar
+claim to--might he say?--their affectionate regard, inasmuch as she was
+the grand-daughter of their venerable and venerated Warden.
+
+As the Duke ceased, there came from his hearers a sound like the
+rustling of leaves. In return for it, Zuleika performed that graceful
+act of subsidence to the verge of collapse which is usually kept for the
+delectation of some royal person. And indeed, in the presence of this
+doomed congress, she did experience humility; for she was not altogether
+without imagination. But, as she arose from her “bob,” she was her own
+bold self again, bright mistress of the situation.
+
+It was impossible for her to give her entertainment in full. Some of her
+tricks (notably the Secret Aquarium, and the Blazing Ball of Worsted)
+needed special preparation, and a table fitted with a “servante” or
+secret tray. The table for to-night’s performance was an ordinary one,
+brought out from the porter’s lodge. The MacQuern deposited on it the
+great casket. Zuleika, retaining him as her assistant, picked nimbly
+out from their places and put in array the curious appurtenances of her
+art--the Magic Canister, the Demon Egg-Cup, and the sundry other vessels
+which, lost property of young Edward Gibbs, had been by a Romanoff
+transmuted from wood to gold, and were now by the moon reduced
+temporarily to silver.
+
+In a great dense semicircle the young men disposed themselves around
+her. Those who were in front squatted down on the gravel; those who were
+behind knelt; the rest stood. Young Oxford! Here, in this mass of boyish
+faces, all fused and obliterated, was the realisation of that phrase.
+Two or three thousands of human bodies, human souls? Yet the effect of
+them in the moonlight was as of one great passive monster.
+
+So was it seen by the Duke, as he stood leaning against the wall,
+behind Zuleika’s table. He saw it as a monster couchant and enchanted,
+a monster that was to die; and its death was in part his own doing.
+But remorse in him gave place to hostility. Zuleika had begun her
+performance. She was producing the Barber’s Pole from her mouth. And
+it was to her that the Duke’s heart went suddenly out in tenderness
+and pity. He forgot her levity and vanity--her wickedness, as he had
+inwardly called it. He thrilled with that intense anxiety which comes to
+a man when he sees his beloved offering to the public an exhibition of
+her skill, be it in singing, acting, dancing, or any other art. Would
+she acquit herself well? The lover’s trepidation is painful enough when
+the beloved has genius--how should these clods appreciate her? and who
+set them in judgment over her? It must be worse when the beloved has
+mediocrity. And Zuleika, in conjuring, had rather less than that. Though
+indeed she took herself quite seriously as a conjurer, she brought to
+her art neither conscience nor ambition, in any true sense of those
+words. Since her debut, she had learned nothing and forgotten nothing.
+The stale and narrow repertory which she had acquired from Edward Gibbs
+was all she had to offer; and this, and her marked lack of skill, she
+eked out with the self-same “patter” that had sufficed that impossible
+young man. It was especially her jokes that now sent shudders up the
+spine of her lover, and brought tears to his eyes, and kept him in
+a state of terror as to what she would say next. “You see,” she had
+exclaimed lightly after the production of the Barber’s Pole, “how easy
+it is to set up business as a hairdresser.” Over the Demon Egg-Cup she
+said that the egg was “as good as fresh.” And her constantly reiterated
+catch-phrase--“Well, this is rather queer!”--was the most distressing
+thing of all.
+
+The Duke blushed to think what these men thought of her. Would love
+were blind! These her lovers were doubtless judging her. They forgave
+her--confound their impudence!--because of her beauty. The banality of
+her performance was an added grace. It made her piteous. Damn them, they
+were sorry for her. Little Noaks was squatting in the front row, peering
+up at her through his spectacles. Noaks was as sorry for her as the rest
+of them. Why didn’t the earth yawn and swallow them all up?
+
+Our hero’s unreasoning rage was fed by a not unreasonable jealousy. It
+was clear to him that Zuleika had forgotten his existence. To-day, as
+soon as he had killed her love, she had shown him how much less to her
+was his love than the crowd’s. And now again it was only the crowd she
+cared for. He followed with his eyes her long slender figure as she
+threaded her way in and out of the crowd, sinuously, confidingly,
+producing a penny from one lad’s elbow, a threepenny-bit from between
+another’s neck and collar, half a crown from another’s hair, and always
+repeating in that flute-like voice of hers “Well, this is rather queer!”
+ Hither and thither she fared, her neck and arms gleaming white from the
+luminous blackness of her dress, in the luminous blueness of the night.
+At a distance, she might have been a wraith; or a breeze made visible; a
+vagrom breeze, warm and delicate, and in league with death.
+
+Yes, that is how she might have seemed to a casual observer. But to the
+Duke there was nothing weird about her: she was radiantly a woman; a
+goddess; and his first and last love. Bitter his heart was, but only
+against the mob she wooed, not against her for wooing it. She was cruel?
+All goddesses are that. She was demeaning herself? His soul welled up
+anew in pity, in passion.
+
+Yonder, in the Hall, the concert ran its course, making a feeble
+incidental music to the dark emotions of the quadrangle. It ended
+somewhat before the close of Zuleika’s rival show; and then the steps
+from the Hall were thronged by ladies, who, with a sprinkling of dons,
+stood in attitudes of refined displeasure and vulgar curiosity. The
+Warden was just awake enough to notice the sea of undergraduates.
+Suspecting some breach of College discipline, he retired hastily to his
+own quarters, for fear his dignity might be somehow compromised.
+
+Was there ever, I wonder, an historian so pure as not to have wished
+just once to fob off on his readers just one bright fable for effect?
+I find myself sorely tempted to tell you that on Zuleika, as her
+entertainment drew to a close, the spirit of the higher thaumaturgy
+descended like a flame and found in her a worthy agent. Specious
+Apollyon whispers to me “Where would be the harm? Tell your readers
+that she cast a seed on the ground, and that therefrom presently arose
+a tamarind-tree which blossomed and bore fruit and, withering, vanished.
+Or say she conjured from an empty basket of osier a hissing and bridling
+snake. Why not? Your readers would be excited, gratified. And you would
+never be found out.” But the grave eyes of Clio are bent on me, her
+servant. Oh pardon, madam: I did but waver for an instant. It is not too
+late to tell my readers that the climax of Zuleika’s entertainment was
+only that dismal affair, the Magic Canister.
+
+It she took from the table, and, holding it aloft, cried “Now, before I
+say good night, I want to see if I have your confidence. But you mustn’t
+think this is the confidence trick!” She handed the vessel to The
+MacQuern, who, looking like an overgrown acolyte, bore it after her as
+she went again among the audience. Pausing before a man in the front
+row, she asked him if he would trust her with his watch. He held it
+out to her. “Thank you,” she said, letting her fingers touch his for a
+moment before she dropped it into the Magic Canister. From another man
+she borrowed a cigarette-case, from another a neck-tie, from another a
+pair of sleeve-links, from Noaks a ring--one of those iron rings which
+are supposed, rightly or wrongly, to alleviate rheumatism. And when she
+had made an ample selection, she began her return-journey to the table.
+
+On her way she saw in the shadow of the wall the figure of her forgotten
+Duke. She saw him, the one man she had ever loved, also the first
+man who had wished definitely to die for her; and she was touched by
+remorse. She had said she would remember him to her dying day; and
+already... But had he not refused her the wherewithal to remember
+him--the pearls she needed as the clou of her dear collection, the great
+relic among relics?
+
+“Would you trust me with your studs?” she asked him, in a voice that
+could be heard throughout the quadrangle, with a smile that was for him
+alone.
+
+There was no help for it. He quickly extricated from his shirt-front the
+black pearl and the pink. Her thanks had a special emphasis.
+
+The MacQuern placed the Magic Canister before her on the table. She
+pressed the outer sheath down on it. Then she inverted it so that the
+contents fell into the false lid; then she opened it, looked into it,
+and, exclaiming “Well, this is rather queer!” held it up so that the
+audience whose intelligence she was insulting might see there was
+nothing in it.
+
+“Accidents,” she said, “will happen in the best-regulated canisters!
+But I think there is just a chance that I shall be able to restore your
+property. Excuse me for a moment.” She then shut the canister, released
+the false lid, made several passes over it, opened it, looked into it
+and said with a flourish “Now I can clear my character!” Again she went
+among the crowd, attended by The MacQuern; and the loans--priceless now
+because she had touched them--were in due course severally restored.
+When she took the canister from her acolyte, only the two studs remained
+in it.
+
+Not since the night of her flitting from the Gibbs’ humble home had
+Zuleika thieved. Was she a back-slider? Would she rob the Duke, and his
+heir-presumptive, and Tanville-Tankertons yet unborn? Alas, yes. But
+what she now did was proof that she had qualms. And her way of doing it
+showed that for legerdemain she had after all a natural aptitude which,
+properly trained, might have won for her an honourable place in at least
+the second rank of contemporary prestidigitators. With a gesture of her
+disengaged hand, so swift as to be scarcely visible, she unhooked her
+ear-rings and “passed” them into the canister. This she did as she
+turned away from the crowd, on her way to the Duke. At the same moment,
+in a manner technically not less good, though morally deplorable, she
+withdrew the studs and “vanished” them into her bosom.
+
+Was it triumph, or shame, or of both a little that so flushed her cheeks
+as she stood before the man she had robbed? Or was it the excitement
+of giving a present to the man she had loved? Certain it is that the
+nakedness of her ears gave a new look to her face--a primitive look,
+open and sweetly wild. The Duke saw the difference, without noticing
+the cause. She was more adorable than ever. He blenched and swayed as in
+proximity to a loveliness beyond endurance. His heart cried out within
+him. A sudden mist came over his eyes.
+
+In the canister that she held out to him, the two pearls rattled like
+dice.
+
+“Keep them!” he whispered.
+
+“I shall,” she whispered back, almost shyly. “But these, these are for
+you.” And she took one of his hands, and, holding it open, tilted the
+canister over it, and let drop into it the two ear-rings, and went
+quickly away.
+
+As she re-appeared at the table, the crowd gave her a long ovation
+of gratitude for her performance--an ovation all the more impressive
+because it was solemn and subdued. She curtseyed again and again, not
+indeed with the timid simplicity of her first obeisance (so familiar
+already was she with the thought of the crowd’s doom), but rather in the
+manner of a prima donna--chin up, eyelids down, all teeth manifest, and
+hands from the bosom flung ecstatically wide asunder.
+
+You know how, at a concert, a prima donna who has just sung insists on
+shaking hands with the accompanist, and dragging him forward, to show
+how beautiful her nature is, into the applause that is for herself
+alone. And your heart, like mine, has gone out to the wretched victim.
+Even so would you have felt for The MacQuern when Zuleika, on the
+implied assumption that half the credit was his, grasped him by the
+wrist, and, continuing to curtsey, would not release him till the last
+echoes of the clapping had died away.
+
+The ladies on the steps of the Hall moved down into the quadrangle,
+spreading their resentment like a miasma. The tragic passion of the
+crowd was merged in mere awkwardness. There was a general movement
+towards the College gate.
+
+Zuleika was putting her tricks back into the great casket, The MacQuern
+assisting her. The Scots, as I have said, are a shy race, but a resolute
+and a self-seeking. This young chieftain had not yet recovered from what
+his heroine had let him in for. But he did not lose the opportunity of
+asking her to lunch with him to-morrow.
+
+“Delighted,” she said, fitting the Demon Egg-Cup into its groove.
+Then, looking up at him, “Are you popular?” she asked. “Have you many
+friends?” He nodded. She said he must invite them all.
+
+This was a blow to the young man, who, at once thrifty and infatuate,
+had planned a luncheon a deux. “I had hoped--” he began.
+
+“Vainly,” she cut him short.
+
+There was a pause. “Whom shall I invite, then?”
+
+“I don’t know any of them. How should I have preferences?” She
+remembered the Duke. She looked round and saw him still standing in the
+shadow of the wall. He came towards her. “Of course,” she said hastily
+to her host, “you must ask HIM.”
+
+The MacQuern complied. He turned to the Duke and told him that Miss
+Dobson had very kindly promised to lunch with him to-morrow. “And,” said
+Zuleika, “I simply WON’T unless you will.”
+
+The Duke looked at her. Had it not been arranged that he and she should
+spend his last day together? Did it mean nothing that she had given him
+her ear-rings? Quickly drawing about him some remnants of his tattered
+pride, he hid his wound, and accepted the invitation.
+
+“It seems a shame,” said Zuleika to The MacQuern, “to ask you to bring
+this great heavy box all the way back again. But--”
+
+Those last poor rags of pride fell away now. The Duke threw a prehensile
+hand on the casket, and, coldly glaring at The MacQuern, pointed with
+his other hand towards the College gate. He, and he alone, was going to
+see Zuleika home. It was his last night on earth, and he was not to be
+trifled with. Such was the message of his eyes. The Scotsman’s flashed
+back a precisely similar message.
+
+Men had fought for Zuleika, but never in her presence. Her eyes dilated.
+She had not the slightest impulse to throw herself between the two
+antagonists. Indeed, she stepped back, so as not to be in the way. A
+short sharp fight--how much better that is than bad blood! She hoped the
+better man would win; and (do not misjudge her) she rather hoped this
+man was the Duke. It occurred to her--a vague memory of some play or
+picture--that she ought to be holding aloft a candelabra of lit tapers;
+no, that was only done indoors, and in the eighteenth century. Ought
+she to hold a sponge? Idle, these speculations of hers, and based on
+complete ignorance of the manners and customs of undergraduates. The
+Duke and The MacQuern would never have come to blows in the presence of
+a lady. Their conflict was necessarily spiritual.
+
+And it was the Scotsman, Scots though he was, who had to yield. Cowed
+by something demoniac in the will-power pitted against his, he found
+himself retreating in the direction indicated by the Duke’s forefinger.
+
+As he disappeared into the porch, Zuleika turned to the Duke. “You were
+splendid,” she said softly. He knew that very well. Does the stag in his
+hour of victory need a diploma from the hind? Holding in his hands the
+malachite casket that was the symbol of his triumph, the Duke smiled
+dictatorially at his darling. He came near to thinking of her as a
+chattel. Then with a pang he remembered his abject devotion to her.
+Abject no longer though! The victory he had just won restored his
+manhood, his sense of supremacy among his fellows. He loved this woman
+on equal terms. She was transcendent? So was he, Dorset. To-night
+the world had on its moonlit surface two great ornaments--Zuleika and
+himself. Neither of the pair could be replaced. Was one of them to be
+shattered? Life and love were good. He had been mad to think of dying.
+
+No word was spoken as they went together to Salt Cellar. She expected
+him to talk about her conjuring tricks. Could he have been disappointed?
+She dared not inquire; for she had the sensitiveness, though no other
+quality whatsoever, of the true artist. She felt herself aggrieved. She
+had half a mind to ask him to give her back her ear-rings. And by the
+way, he hadn’t yet thanked her for them! Well, she would make allowances
+for a condemned man. And again she remembered the omen of which he had
+told her. She looked at him, and then up into the sky. “This same moon,”
+ she said to herself, “sees the battlements of Tankerton. Does she see
+two black owls there? Does she hear them hooting?”
+
+They were in Salt Cellar now. “Melisande!” she called up to her window.
+
+“Hush!” said the Duke, “I have something to say to you.”
+
+“Well, you can say it all the better without that great box in your
+hands. I want my maid to carry it up to my room for me.” And again she
+called out for Melisande, and received no answer. “I suppose she’s in
+the house-keeper’s room or somewhere. You had better put the box down
+inside the door. She can bring it up later.”
+
+She pushed open the postern; and the Duke, as he stepped across the
+threshold, thrilled with a romantic awe. Re-emerging a moment later into
+the moonlight, he felt that she had been right about the box: it was
+fatal to self-expression; and he was glad he had not tried to speak
+on the way from the Front Quad: the soul needs gesture; and the Duke’s
+first gesture now was to seize Zuleika’s hands in his.
+
+She was too startled to move. “Zuleika!” he whispered. She was too angry
+to speak, but with a sudden twist she freed her wrists and darted back.
+
+He laughed. “You are afraid of me. You are afraid to let me kiss you,
+because you are afraid of loving me. This afternoon--here--I all but
+kissed you. I mistook you for Death. I was enamoured of Death. I was a
+fool. That is what YOU are, you incomparable darling: you are a fool.
+You are afraid of life. I am not. I love life. I am going to live for
+you, do you hear?”
+
+She stood with her back to the postern. Anger in her eyes had given
+place to scorn. “You mean,” she said, “that you go back on your
+promise?”
+
+“You will release me from it.”
+
+“You mean you are afraid to die?”
+
+“You will not be guilty of my death. You love me.”
+
+“Good night, you miserable coward.” She stepped back through the
+postern.
+
+“Don’t, Zuleika! Miss Dobson, don’t! Pull yourself together! Reflect! I
+implore you... You will repent...”
+
+Slowly she closed the postern on him.
+
+“You will repent. I shall wait here, under your window...”
+
+He heard a bolt rasped into its socket. He heard the retreat of a light
+tread on the paven hall.
+
+And he hadn’t even kissed her! That was his first thought. He ground his
+heel in the gravel.
+
+And he had hurt her wrists! This was Zuleika’s first thought, as she
+came into her bedroom. Yes, there were two red marks where he had
+held her. No man had ever dared to lay hands on her. With a sense of
+contamination, she proceeded to wash her hands thoroughly with soap and
+water. From time to time such words as “cad” and “beast” came through
+her teeth.
+
+She dried her hands and flung herself into a chair, arose and went
+pacing the room. So this was the end of her great night! What had she
+done to deserve it? How had he dared?
+
+There was a sound as of rain against the window. She was glad. The night
+needed cleansing.
+
+He had told her she was afraid of life. Life!--to have herself caressed
+by HIM; humbly to devote herself to being humbly doted on; to be the
+slave of a slave; to swim in a private pond of treacle--ugh! If the
+thought weren’t so cloying and degrading, it would be laughable.
+
+For a moment her hands hovered over those two golden and gemmed volumes
+encasing Bradshaw and the A.B.C. Guide. To leave Oxford by an early
+train, leave him to drown unthanked, unlooked at... But this could
+not be done without slighting all those hundreds of other men ... And
+besides...
+
+Again that sound on the window-pane. This time it startled her. There
+seemed to be no rain. Could it have been--little bits of gravel? She
+darted noiselessly to the window, pushed it open, and looked down. She
+saw the upturned face of the Duke. She stepped back, trembling with
+fury, staring around her. Inspiration came.
+
+She thrust her head out again. “Are you there?” she whispered.
+
+“Yes, yes. I knew you would come.”
+
+“Wait a moment, wait!”
+
+The water-jug stood where she had left it, on the floor by the
+wash-stand. It was almost full, rather heavy. She bore it steadily to
+the window, and looked out.
+
+“Come a little nearer!” she whispered.
+
+The upturned and moonlit face obeyed her. She saw its lips forming the
+word “Zuleika.” She took careful aim.
+
+Full on the face crashed the cascade of moonlit water, shooting out on
+all sides like the petals of some great silver anemone.
+
+She laughed shrilly as she leapt back, letting the empty jug roll over
+on the carpet. Then she stood tense, crouching, her hands to her mouth,
+her eyes askance, as much as to say “Now I’ve done it!” She listened
+hard, holding her breath. In the stillness of the night was a faint
+sound of dripping water, and presently of footsteps going away. Then
+stillness unbroken.
+
+
+
+
+XI
+
+I said that I was Clio’s servant. And I felt, when I said it, that you
+looked at me dubiously, and murmured among yourselves.
+
+Not that you doubted I was somewhat connected with Clio’s household. The
+lady after whom I have named this book is alive, and well known to some
+of you personally, to all of you by repute. Nor had you finished my
+first page before you guessed my theme to be that episode in her life
+which caused so great a sensation among the newspaper-reading public a
+few years ago. (It all seems but yesterday, does it not? They are still
+vivid to us, those head-lines. We have hardly yet ceased to be edified
+by the morals pointed in those leading articles.) And yet very soon you
+found me behaving just like any novelist--reporting the exact words
+that passed between the protagonists at private interviews--aye, and the
+exact thoughts and emotions that were in their breasts. Little wonder
+that you wondered! Let me make things clear to you.
+
+I have my mistress’ leave to do this. At first (for reasons which you
+will presently understand) she demurred. But I pointed out to her that I
+had been placed in a false position, and that until this were rectified
+neither she nor I could reap the credit due to us.
+
+Know, then, that for a long time Clio had been thoroughly discontented.
+She was happy enough, she says, when first she left the home of Pierus,
+her father, to become a Muse. On those humble beginnings she looks
+back with affection. She kept only one servant, Herodotus. The romantic
+element in him appealed to her. He died, and she had about her a large
+staff of able and faithful servants, whose way of doing their work
+irritated and depressed her. To them, apparently, life consisted of
+nothing but politics and military operations--things to which she, being
+a woman, was somewhat indifferent. She was jealous of Melpomene. It
+seemed to her that her own servants worked from without at a mass of dry
+details which might as well be forgotten. Melpomene’s worked on material
+that was eternally interesting--the souls of men and women; and not
+from without, either; but rather casting themselves into those souls
+and showing to us the essence of them. She was particularly struck by a
+remark of Aristotle’s, that tragedy was “more philosophic” than history,
+inasmuch as it concerned itself with what might be, while history was
+concerned with merely what had been. This summed up for her what she
+had often felt, but could not have exactly formulated. She saw that the
+department over which she presided was at best an inferior one. She saw
+that just what she had liked--and rightly liked--in poor dear Herodotus
+was just what prevented him from being a good historian. It was wrong to
+mix up facts and fancies. But why should her present servants deal with
+only one little special set of the variegated facts of life? It was not
+in her power to interfere. The Nine, by the terms of the charter
+that Zeus had granted to them, were bound to leave their servants an
+absolutely free hand. But Clio could at least refrain from reading the
+works which, by a legal fiction, she was supposed to inspire. Once or
+twice in the course of a century, she would glance into this or that new
+history book, only to lay it down with a shrug of her shoulders. Some
+of the mediaeval chronicles she rather liked. But when, one day, Pallas
+asked her what she thought of “The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire”
+ her only answer was “ostis toia echei en edone echei en edone toia”
+ (For people who like that kind of thing, that is the kind of thing they
+like). This she did let slip. Generally, throughout all the centuries,
+she kept up a pretence of thinking history the greatest of all the arts.
+She always held her head high among her Sisters. It was only on the
+sly that she was an omnivorous reader of dramatic and lyric poetry.
+She watched with keen interest the earliest developments of the prose
+romance in southern Europe; and after the publication of “Clarissa
+Harlowe” she spent practically all her time in reading novels. It was
+not until the Spring of the year 1863 that an entirely new element
+forced itself into her peaceful life. Zeus fell in love with her.
+
+To us, for whom so quickly “time doth transfix the flourish set on
+youth,” there is something strange, even a trifle ludicrous, in the
+thought that Zeus, after all these years, is still at the beck and call
+of his passions. And it seems anyhow lamentable that he has not yet
+gained self-confidence enough to appear in his own person to the lady
+of his choice, and is still at pains to transform himself into whatever
+object he deems likeliest to please her. To Clio, suddenly from Olympus,
+he flashed down in the semblance of Kinglake’s “Invasion of the Crimea”
+ (four vols., large 8vo, half-calf). She saw through his disguise
+immediately, and, with great courage and independence, bade him begone.
+Rebuffed, he was not deflected. Indeed it would seem that Clio’s high
+spirit did but sharpen his desire. Hardly a day passed but he appeared
+in what he hoped would be the irresistible form--a recently discovered
+fragment of Polybius, an advance copy of the forthcoming issue of “The
+Historical Review,” the note-book of Professor Carl Voertschlaffen...
+One day, all-prying Hermes told him of Clio’s secret addiction to
+novel-reading. Thenceforth, year in, year out, it was in the form of
+fiction that Zeus wooed her. The sole result was that she grew sick of
+the sight of novels, and found a perverse pleasure in reading history.
+These dry details of what had actually happened were a relief, she told
+herself, from all that make-believe.
+
+One Sunday afternoon--the day before that very Monday on which this
+narrative opens--it occurred to her how fine a thing history might be if
+the historian had the novelist’s privileges. Suppose he could be present
+at every scene which he was going to describe, a presence invisible and
+inevitable, and equipped with power to see into the breasts of all the
+persons whose actions he set himself to watch...
+
+While the Muse was thus musing, Zeus (disguised as Miss Annie S. Swan’s
+latest work) paid his usual visit. She let her eyes rest on him. Hither
+and thither she divided her swift mind, and addressed him in winged
+words. “Zeus, father of gods and men, cloud-compeller, what wouldst thou
+of me? But first will I say what I would of thee”; and she besought him
+to extend to the writers of history such privileges as are granted to
+novelists. His whole manner had changed. He listened to her with the
+massive gravity of a ruler who never yet has allowed private influence
+to obscure his judgment. He was silent for some time after her appeal.
+Then, in a voice of thunder, which made quake the slopes of Parnassus,
+he gave his answer. He admitted the disabilities under which historians
+laboured. But the novelists--were they not equally handicapped? They had
+to treat of persons who never existed, events which never were. Only
+by the privilege of being in the thick of those events, and in the very
+bowels of those persons, could they hope to hold the reader’s attention.
+If similar privileges were granted to the historian, the demand for
+novels would cease forthwith, and many thousand of hard-working,
+deserving men and women would be thrown out of employment. In fact, Clio
+had asked him an impossible favour. But he might--he said he conceivably
+might--be induced to let her have her way just once. In that event, all
+she would have to do was to keep her eye on the world’s surface, and
+then, so soon as she had reason to think that somewhere was impending
+something of great import, to choose an historian. On him, straightway,
+Zeus would confer invisibility, inevitability, and psychic penetration,
+with a flawless memory thrown in.
+
+On the following afternoon, Clio’s roving eye saw Zuleika stepping from
+the Paddington platform into the Oxford train. A few moments later I
+found myself suddenly on Parnassus. In hurried words Clio told me how I
+came there, and what I had to do. She said she had selected me because
+she knew me to be honest, sober, and capable, and no stranger to Oxford.
+Another moment, and I was at the throne of Zeus. With a majesty of
+gesture which I shall never forget, he stretched his hand over me, and I
+was indued with the promised gifts. And then, lo! I was on the platform
+of Oxford station. The train was not due for another hour. But the time
+passed pleasantly enough.
+
+It was fun to float all unseen, to float all unhampered by any corporeal
+nonsense, up and down the platform. It was fun to watch the inmost
+thoughts of the station-master, of the porters, of the young person at
+the buffet. But of course I did not let the holiday-mood master me. I
+realised the seriousness of my mission. I must concentrate myself on
+the matter in hand: Miss Dobson’s visit. What was going to happen?
+Prescience was no part of my outfit. From what I knew about Miss Dobson,
+I deduced that she would be a great success. That was all. Had I had the
+instinct that was given to those Emperors in stone, and even to the
+dog Corker, I should have begged Clio to send in my stead some man of
+stronger nerve. She had charged me to be calmly vigilant, scrupulously
+fair. I could have been neither, had I from the outset foreseen all.
+Only because the immediate future was broken to me by degrees, first as
+a set of possibilities, then as a set of probabilities that yet might
+not come off, was I able to fulfil the trust imposed in me. Even so, it
+was hard. I had always accepted the doctrine that to understand all is
+to forgive all. Thanks to Zeus, I understood all about Miss Dobson, and
+yet there were moments when she repelled me--moments when I wished to
+see her neither from without nor from within. So soon as the Duke of
+Dorset met her on the Monday night, I felt I was in duty bound to keep
+him under constant surveillance. Yet there were moments when I was so
+sorry for him that I deemed myself a brute for shadowing him.
+
+Ever since I can remember, I have been beset by a recurring doubt as
+to whether I be or be not quite a gentleman. I have never attempted to
+define that term: I have but feverishly wondered whether in its usual
+acceptation (whatever that is) it be strictly applicable to myself. Many
+people hold that the qualities connoted by it are primarily moral--a
+kind heart, honourable conduct, and so forth. On Clio’s mission, I found
+honour and kindness tugging me in precisely opposite directions. In so
+far as honour tugged the harder, was I the more or the less gentlemanly?
+But the test is not a fair one. Curiosity tugged on the side of honour.
+This goes to prove me a cad? Oh, set against it the fact that I did
+at one point betray Clio’s trust. When Miss Dobson had done the deed
+recorded at the close of the foregoing chapter, I gave the Duke of
+Dorset an hour’s grace.
+
+I could have done no less. In the lives of most of us is some one thing
+that we would not after the lapse of how many years soever confess to
+our most understanding friend; the thing that does not bear thinking
+of; the one thing to be forgotten; the unforgettable thing. Not
+the commission of some great crime: this can be atoned for by great
+penances; and the very enormity of it has a dark grandeur. Maybe, some
+little deadly act of meanness, some hole-and-corner treachery? But
+what a man has once willed to do, his will helps him to forget. The
+unforgettable thing in his life is usually not a thing he has done or
+left undone, but a thing done to him--some insolence or cruelty for
+which he could not, or did not, avenge himself. This it is that often
+comes back to him, years after, in his dreams, and thrusts itself
+suddenly into his waking thoughts, so that he clenches his hands, and
+shakes his head, and hums a tune loudly--anything to beat it off. In the
+very hour when first befell him that odious humiliation, would you have
+spied on him? I gave the Duke of Dorset an hour’s grace.
+
+What were his thoughts in that interval, what words, if any, he uttered
+to the night, never will be known. For this, Clio has abused me in
+language less befitting a Muse than a fishwife. I do not care. I would
+rather be chidden by Clio than by my own sense of delicacy, any day.
+
+
+
+
+XII
+
+Not less averse than from dogging the Duke was I from remaining another
+instant in the presence of Miss Dobson. There seemed to be no possible
+excuse for her. This time she had gone too far. She was outrageous. As
+soon as the Duke had had time to get clear away, I floated out into the
+night.
+
+I may have consciously reasoned that the best way to forget the present
+was in the revival of memories. Or I may have been driven by a mere
+homing instinct. Anyhow, it was in the direction of my old College that
+I went. Midnight was tolling as I floated in through the shut grim gate
+at which I had so often stood knocking for admission.
+
+The man who now occupied my room had sported his oak--my oak. I read the
+name on the visiting-card attached thereto--E. J. Craddock--and went in.
+
+E. J. Craddock, interloper, was sitting at my table, with elbows squared
+and head on one side, in the act of literary composition. The oars and
+caps on my walls betokened him a rowing-man. Indeed, I recognised his
+somewhat heavy face as that of the man whom, from the Judas barge this
+afternoon, I had seen rowing “stroke” in my College Eight.
+
+He ought, therefore, to have been in bed and asleep two hours ago. And
+the offence of his vigil was aggravated by a large tumbler that stood
+in front of him, containing whisky and soda. From this he took a deep
+draught. Then he read over what he had written. I did not care to peer
+over his shoulder at MS. which, though written in my room, was not
+intended for my eyes. But the writer’s brain was open to me; and he had
+written “I, the undersigned Edward Joseph Craddock, do hereby leave and
+bequeath all my personal and other property to Zuleika Dobson, spinster.
+This is my last will and testament.”
+
+He gnawed his pen, and presently altered the “hereby leave” to “hereby
+and herewith leave.” Fool!
+
+I thereby and therewith left him. As I emerged through the floor of the
+room above--through the very carpet that had so often been steeped in
+wine, and encrusted with smithereens of glass, in the brave old days
+of a well-remembered occupant--I found two men, both of them evidently
+reading-men. One of them was pacing round the room. “Do you know,” he
+was saying, “what she reminded me of, all the time? Those words--aren’t
+they in the Song of Solomon?--‘fair as the moon, clear as the sun,
+and... and...’”
+
+“‘Terrible as an army with banners,’” supplied his host--rather testily,
+for he was writing a letter. It began “My dear Father. By the time you
+receive this I shall have taken a step which...”
+
+Clearly it was vain to seek distraction in my old College. I floated out
+into the untenanted meadows. Over them was the usual coverlet of white
+vapour, trailed from the Isis right up to Merton Wall. The scent of
+these meadows’ moisture is the scent of Oxford. Even in hottest noon,
+one feels that the sun has not dried THEM. Always there is moisture
+drifting across them, drifting into the Colleges. It, one suspects,
+must have had much to do with the evocation of what is called the Oxford
+spirit--that gentlest spirit, so lingering and searching, so dear to
+them who as youths were brought into ken of it, so exasperating to them
+who were not. Yes, certainly, it is this mild, miasmal air, not less
+than the grey beauty and gravity of the buildings, that has helped
+Oxford to produce, and foster eternally, her peculiar race of
+artist-scholars, scholar-artists. The undergraduate, in his brief
+periods of residence, is too buoyant to be mastered by the spirit of
+the place. He does but salute it, and catch the manner. It is on him
+who stays to spend his maturity here that the spirit will in its fulness
+gradually descend. The buildings and their traditions keep astir in his
+mind whatsoever is gracious; the climate, enfolding and enfeebling him,
+lulling him, keeps him careless of the sharp, harsh, exigent realities
+of the outer world. Careless? Not utterly. These realities may be seen
+by him. He may study them, be amused or touched by them. But they cannot
+fire him. Oxford is too damp for that. The “movements” made there have
+been no more than protests against the mobility of others. They have
+been without the dynamic quality implied in their name. They have been
+no more than the sighs of men gazing at what other men had left behind
+them; faint, impossible appeals to the god of retrogression, uttered for
+their own sake and ritual, rather than with any intent that they should
+be heard. Oxford, that lotus-land, saps the will-power, the power
+of action. But, in doing so, it clarifies the mind, makes larger the
+vision, gives, above all, that playful and caressing suavity of manner
+which comes of a conviction that nothing matters, except ideas, and that
+not even ideas are worth dying for, inasmuch as the ghosts of them slain
+seem worthy of yet more piously elaborate homage than can be given to
+them in their heyday. If the Colleges could be transferred to the dry
+and bracing top of some hill, doubtless they would be more evidently
+useful to the nation. But let us be glad there is no engineer or
+enchanter to compass that task. Egomet, I would liefer have the rest of
+England subside into the sea than have Oxford set on a salubrious level.
+For there is nothing in England to be matched with what lurks in the
+vapours of these meadows, and in the shadows of these spires--that
+mysterious, inenubilable spirit, spirit of Oxford. Oxford! The very
+sight of the word printed, or sound of it spoken, is fraught for me with
+most actual magic.
+
+And on that moonlit night when I floated among the vapours of these
+meadows, myself less than a vapour, I knew and loved Oxford as never
+before, as never since. Yonder, in the Colleges, was the fume and fret
+of tragedy--Love as Death’s decoy, and Youth following her. What then?
+Not Oxford was menaced. Come what might, not a stone of Oxford’s walls
+would be loosened, nor a wreath of her vapours be undone, nor lost a
+breath of her sacred spirit.
+
+I floated up into the higher, drier air, that I might, for once, see the
+total body of that spirit.
+
+There lay Oxford far beneath me, like a map in grey and black and
+silver. All that I had known only as great single things I saw now
+outspread in apposition, and tiny; tiny symbols, as it were, of
+themselves, greatly symbolising their oneness. There they lay, these
+multitudinous and disparate quadrangles, all their rivalries merged in
+the making of a great catholic pattern. And the roofs of the buildings
+around them seemed level with their lawns. No higher the roofs of the
+very towers. Up from their tiny segment of the earth’s spinning surface
+they stood negligible beneath infinity. And new, too, quite new, in
+eternity; transient upstarts. I saw Oxford as a place that had no more
+past and no more future than a mining-camp. I smiled down. O hoary and
+unassailable mushroom!... But if a man carry his sense of proportion far
+enough, lo! he is back at the point from which he started. He knows
+that eternity, as conceived by him, is but an instant in eternity, and
+infinity but a speck in infinity. How should they belittle the things
+near to him?... Oxford was venerable and magical, after all, and
+enduring. Aye, and not because she would endure was it the less
+lamentable that the young lives within her walls were like to be taken.
+My equanimity was gone; and a tear fell on Oxford.
+
+And then, as though Oxford herself were speaking up to me, the air
+vibrated with a sweet noise of music. It was the hour of one; the end
+of the Duke’s hour of grace. Through the silvery tangle of sounds from
+other clocks I floated quickly down to the Broad.
+
+
+
+
+XIII
+
+I had on the way a horrible apprehension. What if the Duke, in his
+agony, had taken the one means to forgetfulness? His room, I could see,
+was lit up; but a man does not necessarily choose to die in the dark. I
+hovered, afraid, over the dome of the Sheldonian. I saw that the window
+of the room above the Duke’s was also lit up. And there was no reason
+at all to doubt the survival of Noaks. Perhaps the sight of him would
+hearten me.
+
+I was wrong. The sight of Noaks in his room was as dismal a thing as
+could be. With his chin sunk on his breast, he sat there, on a rickety
+chair, staring up at the mantel-piece. This he had decked out as a sort
+of shrine. In the centre, aloft on an inverted tin that had contained
+Abernethy biscuits, stood a blue plush frame, with an inner rim of
+brass, several sizes too big for the picture-postcard installed in it.
+Zuleika’s image gazed forth with a smile that was obviously not intended
+for the humble worshipper at this execrable shrine. On either side
+of her stood a small vase, one holding some geraniums, the other some
+mignonette. And just beneath her was placed that iron ring which,
+rightly or wrongly, Noaks supposed to alleviate rheumatism--that same
+iron ring which, by her touch to-night, had been charged for him with a
+yet deeper magic, insomuch that he dared no longer wear it, and had set
+it before her as an oblation.
+
+Yet, for all his humility, he was possessed by a spirit of egoism that
+repelled me. While he sat peering over his spectacles at the beauteous
+image, he said again and again to himself, in a hollow voice, “I am so
+young to die.” Every time he said this, two large, pear-shaped
+tears emerged from behind his spectacles, and found their way to
+his waistcoat. It did not seem to strike him that quite half of
+the undergraduates who contemplated death--and contemplated it in a
+fearless, wholesome, manly fashion--were his juniors. It seemed to seem
+to him that his own death, even though all those other far brighter
+and more promising lives than his were to be sacrificed, was a thing to
+bother about. Well, if he did not want to die, why could he not have,
+at least, the courage of his cowardice? The world would not cease to
+revolve because Noaks still clung to its surface. For me the whole
+tragedy was cheapened by his participation in it. I was fain to
+leave him. His squint, his short legs dangling towards the floor, his
+tear-sodden waistcoat, and his refrain “I am so young to die,” were
+beyond measure exasperating. Yet I hesitated to pass into the room
+beneath, for fear of what I might see there.
+
+How long I might have paltered, had no sound come from that room, I
+know not. But a sound came, sharp and sudden in the night, instantly
+reassuring. I swept down into the presence of the Duke.
+
+He stood with his head flung back and his arms folded, gorgeous in a
+dressing-gown of crimson brocade. In animation of pride and pomp,
+he looked less like a mortal man than like a figure from some great
+biblical group by Paul Veronese.
+
+And this was he whom I had presumed to pity! And this was he whom I had
+half expected to find dead.
+
+His face, usually pale, was now red; and his hair, which no eye had ever
+yet seen disordered, stood up in a glistening shock. These two changes
+in him intensified the effect of vitality. One of them, however,
+vanished as I watched it. The Duke’s face resumed its pallor. I realised
+then that he had but blushed; and I realised, simultaneously, that what
+had called that blush to his cheek was what had also been the signal to
+me that he was alive. His blush had been a pendant to his sneeze. And
+his sneeze had been a pendant to that outrage which he had been striving
+to forget. He had caught cold.
+
+He had caught cold. In the hour of his soul’s bitter need, his body had
+been suborned against him. Base! Had he not stripped his body of its
+wet vesture? Had he not vigorously dried his hair, and robed himself in
+crimson, and struck in solitude such attitudes as were most congruous
+with his high spirit and high rank? He had set himself to crush
+remembrance of that by which through his body his soul had been
+assailed. And well had he known that in this conflict a giant demon was
+his antagonist. But that his own body would play traitor--no, this he
+had not foreseen. This was too base a thing to be foreseen.
+
+He stood quite still, a figure orgulous and splendent. And it seemed as
+though the hot night, too, stood still, to watch him, in awe, through
+the open lattices of his window, breathlessly. But to me, equipped
+to see beneath the surface, he was piteous, piteous in ratio to the
+pretension of his aspect. Had he crouched down and sobbed, I should have
+been as much relieved as he. But he stood seignorial and aquiline.
+
+Painless, by comparison with this conflict in him, seemed the conflict
+that had raged in him yesternight. Then, it had been his dandihood
+against his passion for Zuleika. What mattered the issue? Whichever
+won, the victory were sweet. And of this he had all the while been
+subconscious, gallantly though he fought for his pride of dandihood.
+To-night in the battle between pride and memory, he knew from the outset
+that pride’s was but a forlorn hope, and that memory would be barbarous
+in her triumph. Not winning to oblivion, he must hate with a fathomless
+hatred. Of all the emotions, hatred is the most excruciating. Of all
+the objects of hatred, a woman once loved is the most hateful. Of all
+deaths, the bitterest that can befall a man is that he lay down his life
+to flatter the woman he deems vilest of her sex.
+
+Such was the death that the Duke of Dorset saw confronting him. Most
+men, when they are at war with the past, have the future as ally.
+Looking steadfastly forward, they can forget. The Duke’s future was
+openly in league with his past. For him, prospect was memory. All
+that there was for him of future was the death to which his honour was
+pledged. To envisage that was to... no, he would NOT envisage it! With a
+passionate effort he hypnotised himself to think of nothing at all. His
+brain, into which, by the power Zeus gave me, I was gazing, became a
+perfect vacuum, insulated by the will. It was the kind of experiment
+which scientists call “beautiful.” And yes, beautiful it was.
+
+But not in the eyes of Nature. She abhors a vacuum. Seeing the enormous
+odds against which the Duke was fighting, she might well have stood
+aside. But she has no sense of sport whatsoever. She stepped in.
+
+At first I did not realise what was happening. I saw the Duke’s eyes
+contract, and the muscles of his mouth drawn down, and, at the same
+time, a tense upward movement of his whole body. Then, suddenly, the
+strain undone: a downward dart of the head, a loud percussion. Thrice
+the Duke sneezed, with a sound that was as the bursting of the dams of
+body and soul together; then sneezed again.
+
+Now was his will broken. He capitulated. In rushed shame and horror and
+hatred, pell-mell, to ravage him.
+
+What care now, what use, for deportment? He walked coweringly round and
+round his room, with frantic gestures, with head bowed. He shuffled and
+slunk. His dressing-gown had the look of a gabardine.
+
+Shame and horror and hatred went slashing and hewing throughout the
+fallen citadel. At length, exhausted, he flung himself down on the
+window-seat and leaned out into the night, panting. The air was full of
+thunder. He clutched at his throat. From the depths of the black caverns
+beneath their brows the eyes of the unsleeping Emperors watched him.
+
+He had gone through much in the day that was past. He had loved and
+lost. He had striven to recapture, and had failed. In a strange resolve
+he had found serenity and joy. He had been at the point of death, and
+had been saved. He had seen that his beloved was worthless, and he had
+not cared. He had fought for her, and conquered; and had pled with her,
+and--all these memories were loathsome by reason of that final thing
+which had all the while lain in wait for him.
+
+He looked back and saw himself as he had been at a score of crucial
+moments in the day--always in the shadow of that final thing. He saw
+himself as he had been on the playing-fields of Eton; aye! and in the
+arms of his nurse, to and fro on the terrace of Tankerton--always in the
+shadow of that final thing, always piteous and ludicrous, doomed. Thank
+heaven the future was unknowable? It wasn’t, now. To-morrow--to-day--he
+must die for that accursed fiend of a woman--the woman with the hyena
+laugh.
+
+What to do meanwhile? Impossible to sleep. He felt in his body the
+strain of his quick sequence of spiritual adventures. He was dog-tired.
+But his brain was furiously out of hand: no stopping it. And the night
+was stifling. And all the while, in the dead silence, as though his soul
+had ears, there was a sound. It was a very faint, unearthly sound, and
+seemed to come from nowhere, yet to have a meaning. He feared he was
+rather over-wrought.
+
+He must express himself. That would soothe him. Ever since childhood
+he had had, from time to time, the impulse to set down in writing
+his thoughts or his moods. In such exercises he had found for his
+self-consciousness the vent which natures less reserved than his find in
+casual talk with Tom, Dick and Harry, with Jane, Susan, and Liz. Aloof
+from either of these triads, he had in his first term at Eton taken to
+himself as confidant, and retained ever since, a great quarto volume,
+bound in red morocco and stamped with his coronet and cypher. It was
+herein, year by year, that his soul spread itself.
+
+He wrote mostly in English prose; but other modes were not infrequent.
+Whenever he was abroad, it was his courteous habit to write in the
+language of the country where he was residing--French, when he was in
+his house on the Champs Elysees; Italian, when he was in his villa at
+Baiae; and so on. When he was in his own country he felt himself free to
+deviate sometimes from the vernacular into whatever language were aptest
+to his frame of mind. In his sterner moods he gravitated to Latin,
+and wrought the noble iron of that language to effects that were, if
+anything, a trifle over-impressive. He found for his highest flights of
+contemplation a handy vehicle in Sanscrit. In hours of mere joy it was
+Greek poetry that flowed likeliest from his pen; and he had a special
+fondness for the metre of Alcaeus.
+
+And now, too, in his darkest hour, it was Greek that surged in
+him--iambics of thunderous wrath such as those which are volleyed by
+Prometheus. But as he sat down to his writing-table, and unlocked the
+dear old album, and dipped his pen in the ink, a great calm fell on him.
+The iambics in him began to breathe such sweetness as is on the lips of
+Alcestis going to her doom. But, just as he set pen to paper, his hand
+faltered, and he sprang up, victim of another and yet more violent fit
+of sneezing.
+
+Disbuskined, dangerous. The spirit of Juvenal woke in him. He would
+flay. He would make Woman (as he called Zuleika) writhe. Latin
+hexameters, of course. An epistle to his heir presumptive... “Vae tibi,”
+ he began,
+
+     “Vae tibi, vae misero, nisi circumspexeris artes
+     Femineas, nam nulla salus quin femina possit
+     Tradere, nulla fides quin”--
+
+“Quin,” he repeated. In writing soliloquies, his trouble was to
+curb inspiration. The thought that he was addressing his
+heir-presumptive--now heir-only-too-apparent--gave him pause. Nor, he
+reflected, was he addressing this brute only, but a huge posthumous
+audience. These hexameters would be sure to appear in the “authorised”
+ biography. “A melancholy interest attaches to the following lines,
+written, it would seem, on the very eve of”... He winced. Was it really
+possible, and no dream, that he was to die to-morrow--to-day?
+
+Even you, unassuming reader, go about with a vague notion that in your
+case, somehow, the ultimate demand of nature will be waived. The
+Duke, until he conceived his sudden desire to die, had deemed himself
+certainly exempt. And now, as he sat staring at his window, he saw in
+the paling of the night the presage of the dawn of his own last day.
+Sometimes (orphaned though he was in early childhood) he had even found
+it hard to believe there was no exemption for those to whom he stood in
+any personal relation. He remembered how, soon after he went to Eton,
+he had received almost with incredulity the news of the death of his
+god-father, Lord Stackley, an octogenarian.... He took from the table
+his album, knowing that on one of the earliest pages was inscribed his
+boyish sense of that bereavement. Yes, here the passage was, written in
+a large round hand:
+
+“Death knocks, as we know, at the door of the cottage and of the castle.
+He stalks up the front-garden and the steep steps of the semi-detached
+villa, and plies the ornamental knocker so imperiously that the panels
+of imitation stained glass quiver in the thin front-door. Even the
+family that occupies the topmost story of a building without a lift is
+on his ghastly visiting-list. He rattles his fleshless knuckles against
+the door of the gypsy’s caravan. Into the savage’s tent, wigwam, or
+wattled hut, he darts unbidden. Even on the hermit in the cave he forces
+his obnoxious presence. His is an universal beat, and he walks it with
+a grin. But be sure it is at the sombre portal of the nobleman that he
+knocks with the greatest gusto. It is there, where haply his visit will
+be commemorated with a hatchment; it is then, when the muffled thunder
+of the Dead March in ‘Saul’ will soon be rolling in cathedrals; it
+is then, it is there, that the pride of his unquestioned power comes
+grimliest home to him. Is there no withstanding him? Why should he be
+admitted always with awe, a cravenly-honoured guest? When next he calls,
+let the butler send him about his business, or tell him to step round to
+the servants’ entrance. If it be made plain to him that his visits are
+an impertinence, he will soon be disemboldened. Once the aristocracy
+make a stand against him, there need be no more trouble about the
+exorbitant Duties named after him. And for the hereditary system--that
+system which both offends the common sense of the Radical, and wounds
+the Tory by its implied admission that noblemen are mortal--a seemly
+substitute will have been found.”
+
+Artless and crude in expression, very boyish, it seemed now to its
+author. Yet, in its simple wistfulness, it had quality: it rang true.
+The Duke wondered whether, with all that he had since mastered in the
+great art of English prose, he had not lost something, too.
+
+“Is there no withstanding him?” To think that the boy who uttered that
+cry, and gave back so brave an answer, was within nine years to go
+seek death of his own accord! How the gods must be laughing! Yes,
+the exquisite point of the joke, for them, was that he CHOSE to die.
+But--and, as the thought flashed through him, he started like a man
+shot--what if he chose not to? Stay, surely there was some reason why
+he MUST die. Else, why throughout the night had he taken his doom for
+granted?... Honour: yes, he had pledged himself. Better death than
+dishonour. Was it, though? was it? Ah, he, who had come so near to
+death, saw dishonour as a tiny trifle. Where was the sting of it? Not
+he would be ridiculous to-morrow--to-day. Every one would acclaim his
+splendid act of moral courage. She, she, the hyena woman, would be the
+fool. No one would have thought of dying for her, had he not set the
+example. Every one would follow his new example. Yes, he would
+save Oxford yet. That was his duty. Duty and darling vengeance! And
+life--life!
+
+It was full dawn now. Gone was that faint, monotonous sound which had
+punctuated in his soul the horrors of his vigil. But, in reminder of
+those hours, his lamp was still burning. He extinguished it; and the
+going-out of that tarnished light made perfect his sense of release.
+
+He threw wide his arms in welcome of the great adorable day, and of all
+the great adorable days that were to be his.
+
+He leaned out from his window, drinking the dawn in. The gods had
+made merry over him, had they? And the cry of the hyena had made night
+hideous. Well, it was his turn now. He would laugh last and loudest.
+
+And already, for what was to be, he laughed outright into the morning;
+insomuch that the birds in the trees of Trinity, and still more the
+Emperors over the way, marvelled greatly.
+
+
+
+
+XIV
+
+They had awaited thousands and innumerable thousands of daybreaks in the
+Broad, these Emperors, counting the long slow hours till the night were
+over. It is in the night especially that their fallen greatness haunts
+them. Day brings some distraction. They are not incurious of the lives
+around them--these little lives that succeed one another so quickly. To
+them, in their immemorial old age, youth is a constant wonder. And so
+is death, which to them comes not. Youth or death--which, they had often
+asked themselves, was the goodlier? But it was ill that these two things
+should be mated. It was ill-come, this day of days.
+
+Long after the Duke was in bed and asleep, his peal of laughter echoed
+in the ears of the Emperors. Why had he laughed?
+
+And they said to themselves “We are very old men, and broken, and in a
+land not our own. There are things that we do not understand.”
+
+Brief was the freshness of the dawn. From all points of the compass,
+dark grey clouds mounted into the sky. There, taking their places
+as though in accordance to a strategic plan laid down for them, they
+ponderously massed themselves, and presently, as at a given signal,
+drew nearer to earth, and halted, an irresistible great army, awaiting
+orders.
+
+Somewhere under cover of them the sun went his way, transmitting a
+sulphurous heat. The very birds in the trees of Trinity were oppressed
+and did not twitter. The very leaves did not whisper.
+
+Out through the railings, and across the road, prowled a skimpy and
+dingy cat, trying to look like a tiger.
+
+It was all very sinister and dismal.
+
+The hours passed. The Broad put forth, one by one, its signs of waking.
+
+Soon after eight o’clock, as usual, the front-door of the Duke’s
+lodgings was opened from within. The Emperors watched for the faint
+cloud of dust that presently emerged, and for her whom it preceded. To
+them, this first outcoming of the landlady’s daughter was a moment of
+daily interest. Katie!--they had known her as a toddling child; and
+later as a little girl scampering off to school, all legs and pinafore
+and streaming golden hair. And now she was sixteen years old. Her hair,
+tied back at the nape of her neck, would very soon be “up.” Her big
+blue eyes were as they had always been; but she had long passed out of
+pinafores into aprons, had taken on a sedateness befitting her years and
+her duties, and was anxious to be regarded rather as an aunt than as
+a sister by her brother Clarence, aged twelve. The Emperors had always
+predicted that she would be pretty. And very pretty she was.
+
+As she came slowly out, with eyes downcast to her broom, sweeping the
+dust so seriously over the doorstep and then across the pavement, and
+anon when she reappeared with pail and scrubbing-brush, and abased
+herself before the doorstep, and wrought so vehemently there, what
+filled her little soul was not the dignity of manual labour. The duties
+that Zuleika had envied her were dear to her exactly as they would have
+been, yesterday morning, to Zuleika. The Emperors had often noticed that
+during vacations their little favourite’s treatment of the doorstep was
+languid and perfunctory. They knew well her secret, and always (for who
+can be long in England without becoming sentimental?) they cherished the
+hope of a romantic union between her and “a certain young gentleman,” as
+they archly called the Duke. His continued indifference to her they took
+almost as an affront to themselves. Where in all England was a prettier,
+sweeter girl than their Katie? The sudden irruption of Zuleika into
+Oxford was especially grievous to them because they could no longer
+hope against hope that Katie would be led by the Duke to the altar, and
+thence into the highest social circles, and live happily ever after.
+Luckily it was for Katie, however, that they had no power to fill her
+head with their foolish notions. It was well for her to have never
+doubted she loved in vain. She had soon grown used to her lot. Not until
+yesterday had there been any bitterness. Jealousy surged in Katie at the
+very moment when she beheld Zuleika on the threshold. A glance at the
+Duke’s face when she showed the visitor up was enough to acquaint
+her with the state of his heart. And she did not, for confirming her
+intuition, need the two or three opportunities she took of listening at
+the keyhole. What in the course of those informal audiences did surprise
+her--so much indeed that she could hardly believe her ear--was that it
+was possible for a woman not to love the Duke. Her jealousy of “that
+Miss Dobson” was for a while swallowed up in her pity for him. What she
+had borne so cheerfully for herself she could not bear for her hero. She
+wished she had not happened to listen.
+
+And this morning, while she knelt swaying and spreading over “his”
+ doorstep, her blue eyes added certain tears to be scrubbed away in the
+general moisture of the stone. Rising, she dried her hands in her apron,
+and dried her eyes with her hands. Lest her mother should see that she
+had been crying, she loitered outside the door. Suddenly, her roving
+glance changed to a stare of acute hostility. She knew well that the
+person wandering towards her was--no, not “that Miss Dobson,” as she had
+for the fraction of an instant supposed, but the next worst thing.
+
+It has been said that Melisande indoors was an evidently French maid.
+Out of doors she was not less evidently Zuleika’s. Not that she aped her
+mistress. The resemblance had come by force of propinquity and devotion.
+Nature had laid no basis for it. Not one point of form or colour had
+the two women in common. It has been said that Zuleika was not strictly
+beautiful. Melisande, like most Frenchwomen, was strictly plain. But
+in expression and port, in her whole tournure, she had become, as
+every good maid does, her mistress’ replica. The poise of her head, the
+boldness of her regard and brilliance of her smile, the leisurely and
+swinging way in which she walked, with a hand on the hip--all these
+things of hers were Zuleika’s too. She was no conqueror. None but the
+man to whom she was betrothed--a waiter at the Cafe Tourtel, named
+Pelleas--had ever paid court to her; nor was she covetous of other
+hearts. Yet she looked victorious, and insatiable of victories, and
+“terrible as an army with banners.”
+
+In the hand that was not on her hip she carried a letter. And on her
+shoulders she had to bear the full burden of the hatred that Zuleika had
+inspired in Katie. But this she did not know. She came glancing boldly,
+leisurely, at the numbers on the front-doors.
+
+Katie stepped back on to the doorstep, lest the inferiority of her
+stature should mar the effect of her disdain.
+
+“Good-day. Is it here that Duke D’Orsay lives?” asked Melisande, as
+nearly accurate as a Gaul may be in such matters.
+
+“The Duke of Dorset,” said Katie with a cold and insular emphasis,
+“lives here.” And “You,” she tried to convey with her eyes, “you, for
+all your smart black silk, are a hireling. I am Miss Batch. I happen to
+have a hobby for housework. I have not been crying.”
+
+“Then please mount this to him at once,” said Melisande, holding out the
+letter. “It is from Miss Dobson’s part. Very express. I wait response.”
+
+“You are very ugly,” Katie signalled with her eyes. “I am very pretty.
+I have the Oxfordshire complexion. And I play the piano.” With her lips
+she said merely, “His Grace is not called before nine o’clock.”
+
+“But to-day you go wake him now--quick--is it not?”
+
+“Quite out of the question,” said Katie. “If you care to leave
+that letter here, I will see that it is placed on his Grace’s
+breakfast-table, with the morning’s post.” “For the rest,” added her
+eyes, “Down with France!”
+
+“I find you droll, but droll, my little one!” cried Melisande.
+
+Katie stepped back and shut the door in her face. “Like a little
+Empress,” the Emperors commented.
+
+The Frenchwoman threw up her hands and apostrophised heaven. To this day
+she believes that all the bonnes of Oxford are mad, but mad, and of a
+madness.
+
+She stared at the door, at the pail and scrubbing-brush that had been
+shut out with her, at the letter in her hand. She decided that she had
+better drop the letter into the slit in the door and make report to Miss
+Dobson.
+
+As the envelope fell through the slit to the door-mat, Katie made at
+Melisande a grimace which, had not the panels been opaque, would have
+astonished the Emperors. Resuming her dignity, she picked the thing up,
+and, at arm’s length, examined it. It was inscribed in pencil. Katie’s
+lips curled at sight of the large, audacious handwriting. But it is
+probable that whatever kind of handwriting Zuleika might have had would
+have been just the kind that Katie would have expected.
+
+Fingering the envelope, she wondered what the wretched woman had to
+say. It occurred to her that the kettle was simmering on the hob in the
+kitchen, and that she might easily steam open the envelope and master
+its contents. However, her doing this would have in no way affected
+the course of the tragedy. And so the gods (being to-day in a strictly
+artistic mood) prompted her to mind her own business.
+
+Laying the Duke’s table for breakfast, she made as usual a neat
+rectangular pile of the letters that had come for him by post. Zuleika’s
+letter she threw down askew. That luxury she allowed herself.
+
+And he, when he saw the letter, allowed himself the luxury of leaving it
+unopened awhile. Whatever its purport, he knew it could but minister to
+his happy malice. A few hours ago, with what shame and dread it would
+have stricken him! Now it was a dainty to be dallied with.
+
+His eyes rested on the black tin boxes that contained his robes of the
+Garter. Hateful had been the sight of them in the watches of the night,
+when he thought he had worn those robes for the last time. But now--!
+
+He opened Zuleika’s letter. It did not disappoint him.
+
+
+“DEAR DUKE,--DO, DO forgive me. I am beyond words ashamed of the silly
+tomboyish thing I did last night. Of course it was no worse than that,
+but an awful fear haunts me that you MAY have thought I acted in anger
+at the idea of your breaking your promise to me. Well, it is quite true
+I had been hurt and angry when you hinted at doing that, but the moment
+I left you I saw that you had been only in fun, and I enjoyed the joke
+against myself, though I thought it was rather too bad of you. And
+then, as a sort of revenge, but almost before I knew what I was doing,
+I played that IDIOTIC practical joke on you. I have been MISERABLE ever
+since. DO come round as early as possible and tell me I am forgiven. But
+before you tell me that, please lecture me till I cry--though indeed I
+have been crying half through the night. And then if you want to be VERY
+horrid you may tease me for being so slow to see a joke. And then you
+might take me to see some of the Colleges and things before we go on to
+lunch at The MacQuern’s? Forgive pencil and scrawl. Am sitting up in bed
+to write.--Your sincere friend,
+
+“Z. D.
+
+“P.S.--Please burn this.”
+
+
+At that final injunction, the Duke abandoned himself to his mirth.
+“Please burn this.” Poor dear young woman, how modest she was in the
+glare of her diplomacy! Why there was nothing, not one phrase, to
+compromise her in the eyes of a coroner’s jury!... Seriously, she
+had good reason to be proud of her letter. For the purpose in view it
+couldn’t have been better done. That was what made it so touchingly
+absurd. He put himself in her position. He pictured himself as her,
+“sitting up in bed,” pencil in hand, to explain away, to soothe, to
+clinch and bind... Yes, if he had happened to be some other man--one
+whom her insult might have angered without giving love its death-blow,
+and one who could be frightened out of not keeping his word--this letter
+would have been capital.
+
+He helped himself to some more marmalade, and poured out another cup of
+coffee. Nothing is more thrilling, thought he, than to be treated as a
+cully by the person you hold in the hollow of your hand.
+
+But within this great irony lay (to be glided over) another irony. He
+knew well in what mood Zuleika had done what she had done to him last
+night; yet he preferred to accept her explanation of it.
+
+Officially, then, he acquitted her of anything worse than tomboyishness.
+But this verdict for his own convenience implied no mercy to the
+culprit. The sole point for him was how to administer her punishment the
+most poignantly. Just how should he word his letter?
+
+He rose from his chair, and “Dear Miss Dobson--no, MY dear Miss Dobson,”
+ he murmured, pacing the room, “I am so very sorry I cannot come to see
+you: I have to attend two lectures this morning. By contrast with this
+weariness, it will be the more delightful to meet you at The MacQuern’s.
+I want to see as much as I can of you to-day, because to-night there is
+the Bump Supper, and to-morrow morning, alas! I must motor to Windsor
+for this wretched Investiture. Meanwhile, how can you ask to be forgiven
+when there is nothing whatever to forgive? It seems to me that mine, not
+yours, is the form of humour that needs explanation. My proposal to die
+for you was made in as playful a spirit as my proposal to marry you. And
+it is really for me to ask forgiveness of you. One thing especially,” he
+murmured, fingering in his waistcoat-pocket the ear-rings she had given
+him, “pricks my conscience. I do feel that I ought not to have let
+you give me these two pearls--at any rate, not the one which went into
+premature mourning for me. As I have no means of deciding which of the
+two this one is, I enclose them both, with the hope that the pretty
+difference between them will in time reappear”... Or words to that
+effect... Stay! why not add to the joy of contriving that effect the
+greater joy of watching it? Why send Zuleika a letter? He would obey her
+summons. He would speed to her side. He snatched up a hat.
+
+In this haste, however, he detected a certain lack of dignity. He
+steadied himself, and went slowly to the mirror. There he adjusted his
+hat with care, and regarded himself very seriously, very sternly, from
+various angles, like a man invited to paint his own portrait for the
+Uffizi. He must be worthy of himself. It was well that Zuleika should
+be chastened. Great was her sin. Out of life and death she had fashioned
+toys for her vanity. But his joy must be in vindication of what was
+noble, not in making suffer what was vile. Yesterday he had been her
+puppet, her Jumping-Jack; to-day it was as avenging angel that he would
+appear before her. The gods had mocked him who was now their minister.
+Their minister? Their master, as being once more master of himself. It
+was they who had plotted his undoing. Because they loved him they were
+fain that he should die young. The Dobson woman was but their agent,
+their cat’s-paw. By her they had all but got him. Not quite! And now, to
+teach them, through her, a lesson they would not soon forget, he would
+go forth.
+
+Shaking with laughter, the gods leaned over the thunder-clouds to watch
+him.
+
+He went forth.
+
+On the well-whitened doorstep he was confronted by a small boy in
+uniform bearing a telegram.
+
+“Duke of Dorset?” asked the small boy.
+
+Opening the envelope, the Duke saw that the message, with which was a
+prepaid form for reply, had been handed in at the Tankerton post-office.
+It ran thus:
+
+
+     Deeply regret inform your grace last night
+     two black owls came and perched on battlements
+     remained there through night hooting
+     at dawn flew away none knows whither
+     awaiting instructions            Jellings
+
+
+The Duke’s face, though it grew white, moved not one muscle.
+
+Somewhat shamed now, the gods ceased from laughing.
+
+The Duke looked from the telegram to the boy. “Have you a pencil?” he
+asked.
+
+“Yes, my Lord,” said the boy, producing a stump of pencil.
+
+Holding the prepaid form against the door, the Duke wrote:
+
+
+     Jellings Tankerton Hall
+     Prepare vault for funeral Monday
+
+                              Dorset
+
+
+His handwriting was as firmly and minutely beautiful as ever. Only in
+that he forgot there was nothing to pay did he belie his calm. “Here,”
+ he said to the boy, “is a shilling; and you may keep the change.”
+
+“Thank you, my Lord,” said the boy, and went his way, as happy as a
+postman.
+
+
+
+
+XV
+
+Humphrey Greddon, in the Duke’s place, would have taken a pinch of
+snuff. But he could not have made that gesture with a finer air than the
+Duke gave to its modern equivalent. In the art of taking and lighting
+a cigarette, there was one man who had no rival in Europe. This time he
+outdid even himself.
+
+“Ah,” you say, “but ‘pluck’ is one thing, endurance another. A man who
+doesn’t reel on receipt of his death-warrant may yet break down when he
+has had time to think it over. How did the Duke acquit himself when he
+came to the end of his cigarette? And by the way, how was it that after
+he had read the telegram you didn’t give him again an hour’s grace?”
+
+In a way, you have a perfect right to ask both those questions. But
+their very pertinence shows that you think I might omit things that
+matter. Please don’t interrupt me again. Am _I_ writing this history, or
+are you?
+
+Though the news that he must die was a yet sharper douche, as you have
+suggested, than the douche inflicted by Zuleika, it did at least leave
+unscathed the Duke’s pride. The gods can make a man ridiculous through
+a woman, but they cannot make him ridiculous when they deal him a blow
+direct. The very greatness of their power makes them, in that respect,
+impotent. They had decreed that the Duke should die, and they had told
+him so. There was nothing to demean him in that. True, he had just
+measured himself against them. But there was no shame in being
+gravelled. The peripety was according to the best rules of tragic art.
+The whole thing was in the grand manner.
+
+Thus I felt that there were no indelicacy, this time, in watching
+him. Just as “pluck” comes of breeding, so is endurance especially an
+attribute of the artist. Because he can stand outside himself, and (if
+there be nothing ignoble in them) take a pleasure in his own sufferings,
+the artist has a huge advantage over you and me. The Duke, so soon
+as Zuleika’s spell was broken, had become himself again--a highly
+self-conscious artist in life. And now, standing pensive on the
+doorstep, he was almost enviable in his great affliction.
+
+Through the wreaths of smoke which, as they came from his lips, hung in
+the sultry air as they would have hung in a closed room, he gazed up at
+the steadfast thunder-clouds. How nobly they had been massed for him!
+One of them, a particularly large and dark one, might with advantage,
+he thought, have been placed a little further to the left. He made a
+gesture to that effect. Instantly the cloud rolled into position.
+The gods were painfully anxious, now, to humour him in trifles. His
+behaviour in the great emergency had so impressed them at a distance
+that they rather dreaded meeting him anon at close quarters. They rather
+wished they had not uncaged, last night, the two black owls. Too late.
+What they had done they had done.
+
+That faint monotonous sound in the stillness of the night--the Duke
+remembered it now. What he had thought to be only his fancy had been
+his death-knell, wafted to him along uncharted waves of ether, from the
+battlements of Tankerton. It had ceased at daybreak. He wondered now
+that he had not guessed its meaning. And he was glad that he had not.
+He was thankful for the peace that had been granted to him, the joyous
+arrogance in which he had gone to bed and got up for breakfast. He
+valued these mercies the more for the great tragic irony that came of
+them. Aye, and he was inclined to blame the gods for not having kept him
+still longer in the dark and so made the irony still more awful. Why had
+they not caused the telegram to be delayed in transmission? They
+ought to have let him go and riddle Zuleika with his scorn and his
+indifference. They ought to have let him hurl through her his defiance
+of them. Art aside, they need not have grudged him that excursion.
+
+He could not, he told himself, face Zuleika now. As artist, he saw that
+there was irony enough left over to make the meeting a fine one. As
+theologian, he did not hold her responsible for his destiny. But as a
+man, after what she had done to him last night, and before what he had
+to do for her to-day, he would not go out of his way to meet her. Of
+course, he would not actually avoid her. To seem to run away from her
+were beneath his dignity. But, if he did meet her, what in heaven’s
+name should he say to her? He remembered his promise to lunch with The
+MacQuern, and shuddered. She would be there. Death, as he had said,
+cancelled all engagements. A very simple way out of the difficulty would
+be to go straight to the river. No, that would be like running away. It
+couldn’t be done.
+
+Hardly had he rejected the notion when he had a glimpse of a female
+figure coming quickly round the corner--a glimpse that sent him walking
+quickly away, across the road, towards Turl Street, blushing violently.
+Had she seen him? he asked himself. And had she seen that he saw her?
+He heard her running after him. He did not look round, he quickened his
+pace. She was gaining on him. Involuntarily, he ran--ran like a hare,
+and, at the corner of Turl Street, rose like a trout, saw the pavement
+rise at him, and fell, with a bang, prone.
+
+Let it be said at once that in this matter the gods were absolutely
+blameless. It is true they had decreed that a piece of orange-peel
+should be thrown down this morning at the corner of Turl Street. But
+the Master of Balliol, not the Duke, was the person they had destined
+to slip on it. You must not imagine that they think out and appoint
+everything that is to befall us, down to the smallest detail. Generally,
+they just draw a sort of broad outline, and leave us to fill it in
+according to our taste. Thus, in the matters of which this book is
+record, it was they who made the Warden invite his grand-daughter to
+Oxford, and invite the Duke to meet her on the evening of her arrival.
+And it was they who prompted the Duke to die for her on the following
+(Tuesday) afternoon. They had intended that he should execute his
+resolve after, or before, the boat-race of that evening. But an
+oversight upset this plan. They had forgotten on Monday night to uncage
+the two black owls; and so it was necessary that the Duke’s death should
+be postponed. They accordingly prompted Zuleika to save him. For the
+rest, they let the tragedy run its own course--merely putting in a
+felicitous touch here and there, or vetoing a superfluity, such as that
+Katie should open Zuleika’s letter. It was no part of their scheme that
+the Duke should mistake Melisande for her mistress, or that he should
+run away from her, and they were genuinely sorry when he, instead of the
+Master of Balliol, came to grief over the orange-peel.
+
+Them, however, the Duke cursed as he fell; them again as he raised
+himself on one elbow, giddy and sore; and when he found that the woman
+bending over him was not she whom he dreaded, but her innocent maid, it
+was against them that he almost foamed at the mouth.
+
+“Monsieur le Duc has done himself harm--no?” panted Melisande. “Here is
+a letter from Miss Dobson’s part. She say to me ‘Give it him with your
+own hand.’”
+
+The Duke received the letter and, sitting upright, tore it to shreds,
+thus confirming a suspicion which Melisande had conceived at the moment
+when he took to his heels, that all English noblemen are mad, but mad,
+and of a madness.
+
+“Nom de Dieu,” she cried, wringing her hands, “what shall I tell to
+Mademoiselle?”
+
+“Tell her--” the Duke choked back a phrase of which the memory would
+have shamed his last hours. “Tell her,” he substituted, “that you have
+seen Marius sitting among the ruins of Carthage,” and limped quickly
+away down the Turl.
+
+Both his hands had been abraded by the fall. He tended them angrily
+with his handkerchief. Mr. Druce, the chemist, had anon the privilege of
+bathing and plastering them, also of balming and binding the right knee
+and the left shin. “Might have been a very nasty accident, your Grace,”
+ he said. “It was,” said the Duke. Mr. Druce concurred.
+
+Nevertheless, Mr. Druce’s remark sank deep. The Duke thought it quite
+likely that the gods had intended the accident to be fatal, and that
+only by his own skill and lightness in falling had he escaped the
+ignominy of dying in full flight from a lady’s-maid. He had not, you
+see, lost all sense of free-will. While Mr. Druce put the finishing
+touches to his shin, “I am utterly purposed,” he said to himself, “that
+for this death of mine I will choose my own manner and my own--well, not
+‘time’ exactly, but whatever moment within my brief span of life shall
+seem aptest to me. Unberufen,” he added, lightly tapping Mr. Druce’s
+counter.
+
+The sight of some bottles of Cold Mixture on that hospitable board
+reminded him of a painful fact. In the clash of the morning’s
+excitements, he had hardly felt the gross ailment that was on him.
+He became fully conscious of it now, and there leapt in him a hideous
+doubt: had he escaped a violent death only to succumb to “natural
+causes”? He had never hitherto had anything the matter with him, and
+thus he belonged to the worst, the most apprehensive, class of patients.
+He knew that a cold, were it neglected, might turn malignant; and he
+had a vision of himself gripped suddenly in the street by internal
+agonies--a sympathetic crowd, an ambulance, his darkened bedroom; local
+doctor making hopelessly wrong diagnosis; eminent specialists served up
+hot by special train, commending local doctor’s treatment, but shaking
+their heads and refusing to say more than “He has youth on his side”; a
+slight rally at sunset; the end. All this flashed through his mind. He
+quailed. There was not a moment to lose. He frankly confessed to Mr.
+Druce that he had a cold.
+
+Mr. Druce, trying to insinuate by his manner that this fact had not been
+obvious, suggested the Mixture--a teaspoonful every two hours. “Give me
+some now, please, at once,” said the Duke.
+
+He felt magically better for the draught. He handled the little glass
+lovingly, and eyed the bottle. “Why not two teaspoonfuls every hour?”
+ he suggested, with an eagerness almost dipsomaniacal. But Mr. Druce was
+respectfully firm against that. The Duke yielded. He fancied, indeed,
+that the gods had meant him to die of an overdose.
+
+Still, he had a craving for more. Few though his hours were, he hoped
+the next two would pass quickly. And, though he knew Mr. Druce could be
+trusted to send the bottle round to his rooms immediately, he preferred
+to carry it away with him. He slipped it into the breast-pocket of his
+coat, almost heedless of the slight extrusion it made there.
+
+Just as he was about to cross the High again, on his way home, a
+butcher’s cart dashed down the slope, recklessly driven. He stepped well
+back on the pavement, and smiled a sardonic smile. He looked to right
+and to left, carefully gauging the traffic. Some time elapsed before he
+deemed the road clear enough for transit.
+
+Safely across, he encountered a figure that seemed to loom up out of the
+dim past. Oover! Was it but yesternight that Oover dined with him? With
+the sensation of a man groping among archives, he began to apologise to
+the Rhodes Scholar for having left him so abruptly at the Junta. Then,
+presto!--as though those musty archives were changed to a crisp morning
+paper agog with terrific head-lines--he remembered the awful resolve of
+Oover, and of all young Oxford.
+
+“Of course,” he asked, with a lightness that hardly hid his dread of the
+answer, “you have dismissed the notion you were toying with when I left
+you?”
+
+Oover’s face, like his nature, was as sensitive as it was massive,
+and it instantly expressed his pain at the doubt cast on his high
+seriousness. “Duke,” he asked, “d’you take me for a skunk?”
+
+“Without pretending to be quite sure what a skunk is,” said the Duke,
+“I take you to be all that it isn’t. And the high esteem in which I
+hold you is the measure for me of the loss that your death would be to
+America and to Oxford.”
+
+Oover blushed. “Duke” he said “that’s a bully testimonial. But don’t
+worry. America can turn out millions just like me, and Oxford can have
+as many of them as she can hold. On the other hand, how many of YOU
+can be turned out, as per sample, in England? Yet you choose to destroy
+yourself. You avail yourself of the Unwritten Law. And you’re right,
+Sir. Love transcends all.”
+
+“But does it? What if I told you I had changed my mind?”
+
+“Then, Duke,” said Oover, slowly, “I should believe that all those yarns
+I used to hear about the British aristocracy were true, after all. I
+should aver that you were not a white man. Leading us on like that, and
+then--Say, Duke! Are you going to die to-day, or not?”
+
+“As a matter of fact, I am, but--”
+
+“Shake!”
+
+“But--”
+
+Oover wrung the Duke’s hand, and was passing on. “Stay!” he was adjured.
+
+“Sorry, unable. It’s just turning eleven o’clock, and I’ve a lecture.
+While life lasts, I’m bound to respect Rhodes’ intentions.” The
+conscientious Scholar hurried away.
+
+The Duke wandered down the High, taking counsel with himself. He was
+ashamed of having so utterly forgotten the mischief he had wrought at
+large. At dawn he had vowed to undo it. Undo it he must. But the task
+was not a simple one now. If he could say “Behold, I take back my word.
+I spurn Miss Dobson, and embrace life,” it was possible that his example
+would suffice. But now that he could only say “Behold, I spurn Miss
+Dobson, and will not die for her, but I am going to commit suicide, all
+the same,” it was clear that his words would carry very little force.
+Also, he saw with pain that they placed him in a somewhat ludicrous
+position. His end, as designed yesterday, had a large and simple
+grandeur. So had his recantation of it. But this new compromise between
+the two things had a fumbled, a feeble, an ignoble look. It seemed to
+combine all the disadvantages of both courses. It stained his honour
+without prolonging his life. Surely, this was a high price to pay for
+snubbing Zuleika... Yes, he must revert without more ado to his first
+scheme. He must die in the manner that he had blazoned forth. And he
+must do it with a good grace, none knowing he was not glad; else the
+action lost all dignity. True, this was no way to be a saviour. But only
+by not dying at all could he have set a really potent example.... He
+remembered the look that had come into Oover’s eyes just now at the
+notion of his unfaith. Perhaps he would have been the mock, not the
+saviour, of Oxford. Better dishonour than death, maybe. But, since
+die he must, he must die not belittling or tarnishing the name of
+Tanville-Tankerton.
+
+Within these bounds, however, he must put forth his full might to avert
+the general catastrophe--and to punish Zuleika nearly well enough, after
+all, by intercepting that vast nosegay from her outstretched hands
+and her distended nostrils. There was no time to be lost, then. But he
+wondered, as he paced the grand curve between St. Mary’s and Magdalen
+Bridge, just how was he to begin?
+
+Down the flight of steps from Queen’s came lounging an average
+undergraduate.
+
+“Mr. Smith,” said the Duke, “a word with you.”
+
+“But my name is not Smith,” said the young man.
+
+“Generically it is,” replied the Duke. “You are Smith to all intents
+and purposes. That, indeed, is why I address you. In making your
+acquaintance, I make a thousand acquaintances. You are a short cut to
+knowledge. Tell me, do you seriously think of drowning yourself this
+afternoon?”
+
+“Rather,” said the undergraduate.
+
+“A meiosis in common use, equivalent to ‘Yes, assuredly,’” murmured the
+Duke. “And why,” he then asked, “do you mean to do this?”
+
+“Why? How can you ask? Why are YOU going to do it?”
+
+“The Socratic manner is not a game at which two can play. Please answer
+my question, to the best of your ability.”
+
+“Well, because I can’t live without her. Because I want to prove my love
+for her. Because--”
+
+“One reason at a time please,” said the Duke, holding up his hand. “You
+can’t live without her? Then I am to assume that you look forward to
+dying?”
+
+“Rather.”
+
+“You are truly happy in that prospect?”
+
+“Yes. Rather.”
+
+“Now, suppose I showed you two pieces of equally fine amber--a big one
+and a little one. Which of these would you rather possess?”
+
+“The big one, I suppose.”
+
+“And this because it is better to have more than to have less of a good
+thing?”
+
+“Just so.”
+
+“Do you consider happiness a good thing or a bad one?”
+
+“A good one.”
+
+“So that a man would rather have more than less of happiness?”
+
+“Undoubtedly.”
+
+“Then does it not seem to you that you would do well to postpone your
+suicide indefinitely?”
+
+“But I have just said I can’t live without her.”
+
+“You have still more recently declared yourself truly happy.”
+
+“Yes, but--”
+
+“Now, be careful, Mr. Smith. Remember, this is a matter of life and
+death. Try to do yourself justice. I have asked you--”
+
+But the undergraduate was walking away, not without a certain dignity.
+
+The Duke felt that he had not handled his man skilfully. He remembered
+that even Socrates, for all the popular charm of his mock-modesty and
+his true geniality, had ceased after a while to be tolerable. Without
+such a manner to grace his method, Socrates would have had a very brief
+time indeed. The Duke recoiled from what he took to be another pitfall.
+He almost smelt hemlock.
+
+A party of four undergraduates abreast was approaching. How should he
+address them? His choice wavered between the evangelic wistfulness of
+“Are you saved?” and the breeziness of the recruiting sergeant’s “Come,
+you’re fine upstanding young fellows. Isn’t it a pity,” etc. Meanwhile,
+the quartet had passed by.
+
+Two other undergraduates approached. The Duke asked them simply as a
+personal favour to himself not to throw away their lives. They said
+they were very sorry, but in this particular matter they must please
+themselves. In vain he pled. They admitted that but for his example they
+would never have thought of dying. They wished they could show him their
+gratitude in any way but the one which would rob them of it.
+
+The Duke drifted further down the High, bespeaking every undergraduate
+he met, leaving untried no argument, no inducement. For one man, whose
+name he happened to know, he invented an urgent personal message from
+Miss Dobson imploring him not to die on her account. On another man he
+offered to settle by hasty codicil a sum of money sufficient to yield
+an annual income of two thousand pounds--three thousand--any sum within
+reason. With another he offered to walk, arm in arm, to Carfax and back
+again. All to no avail.
+
+He found himself in the precincts of Magdalen, preaching from the little
+open-air pulpit there an impassioned sermon on the sacredness of human
+life, and referring to Zuleika in terms which John Knox would have
+hesitated to utter. As he piled up the invective, he noticed an ominous
+restiveness in the congregation--murmurs, clenching of hands, dark
+looks. He saw the pulpit as yet another trap laid for him by the gods.
+He had walked straight into it: another moment, and he might be dragged
+down, overwhelmed by numbers, torn limb from limb. All that was in
+him of quelling power he put hastily into his eyes, and manoeuvred his
+tongue to gentler discourse, deprecating his right to judge “this lady,”
+ and merely pointing the marvel, the awful though noble folly, of his
+resolve. He ended on a note of quiet pathos. “To-night I shall be among
+the shades. There be not you, my brothers.”
+
+Good though the sermon was in style and sentiment, the flaw in its
+reasoning was too patent for any converts to be made. As he walked out
+of the quadrangle, the Duke felt the hopelessness of his cause. Still
+he battled bravely for it up the High, waylaying, cajoling, commanding,
+offering vast bribes. He carried his crusade into the Loder, and
+thence into Vincent’s, and out into the street again, eager, untiring,
+unavailing: everywhere he found his precept checkmated by his example.
+
+The sight of The MacQuern coming out top-speed from the Market, with
+a large but inexpensive bunch of flowers, reminded him of the luncheon
+that was to be. Never to throw over an engagement was for him, as we
+have seen, a point of honour. But this particular engagement--hateful,
+when he accepted it, by reason of his love--was now impossible for
+the reason which had made him take so ignominiously to his heels this
+morning. He curtly told the Scot not to expect him.
+
+“Is SHE not coming?” gasped the Scot, with quick suspicion.
+
+“Oh,” said the Duke, turning on his heel, “she doesn’t know that I
+shan’t be there. You may count on her.” This he took to be the very
+truth, and he was glad to have made of it a thrust at the man who had
+so uncouthly asserted himself last night. He could not help smiling,
+though, at this little resentment erect after the cataclysm that had
+swept away all else. Then he smiled to think how uneasy Zuleika would
+be at his absence. What agonies of suspense she must have had all this
+morning! He imagined her silent at the luncheon, with a vacant gaze at
+the door, eating nothing at all. And he became aware that he was rather
+hungry. He had done all he could to save young Oxford. Now for some
+sandwiches! He went into the Junta.
+
+As he rang the dining-room bell, his eyes rested on the miniature of
+Nellie O’Mora. And the eyes of Nellie O’Mora seemed to meet his in
+reproach. Just as she may have gazed at Greddon when he cast her off,
+so now did she gaze at him who a few hours ago had refused to honour her
+memory.
+
+Yes, and many other eyes than hers rebuked him. It was around the walls
+of this room that hung those presentments of the Junta as focussed,
+year after year, in a certain corner of Tom Quad, by Messrs. Hills and
+Saunders. All around, the members of the little hierarchy, a hierarchy
+ever changing in all but youth and a certain sternness of aspect that
+comes at the moment of being immortalised, were gazing forth now with a
+sternness beyond their wont. Not one of them but had in his day handed
+on loyally the praise of Nellie O’Mora, in the form their Founder had
+ordained. And the Duke’s revolt last night had so incensed them that
+they would, if they could, have come down from their frames and walked
+straight out of the club, in chronological order--first, the men of
+the ‘sixties, almost as near in time to Greddon as to the Duke, all
+so gloriously be-whiskered and cravated, but how faded now, alas, by
+exposure; and last of all in the procession and angrier perhaps than any
+of them, the Duke himself--the Duke of a year ago, President and sole
+Member.
+
+But, as he gazed into the eyes of Nellie O’Mora now, Dorset needed not
+for penitence the reproaches of his past self or of his forerunners.
+“Sweet girl,” he murmured, “forgive me. I was mad. I was under the
+sway of a deplorable infatuation. It is past. See,” he murmured with a
+delicacy of feeling that justified the untruth, “I am come here for the
+express purpose of undoing my impiety.” And, turning to the club-waiter
+who at this moment answered the bell, he said “Bring me a glass of port,
+please, Barrett.” Of sandwiches he said nothing.
+
+At the word “See” he had stretched one hand towards Nellie; the other
+he had laid on his heart, where it seemed to encounter some sort of hard
+obstruction. This he vaguely fingered, wondering what it might be, while
+he gave his order to Barrett. With a sudden cry he dipped his hand into
+his breast-pocket and drew forth the bottle he had borne away from
+Mr. Druce’s. He snatched out his watch: one o’clock!--fifteen minutes
+overdue. Wildly he called the waiter back. “A tea-spoon, quick! No
+port. A wine-glass and a tea-spoon. And--for I don’t mind telling you,
+Barrett, that your mission is of an urgency beyond conjecture--take
+lightning for your model. Go!”
+
+Agitation mastered him. He tried vainly to feel his pulse, well knowing
+that if he found it he could deduce nothing from its action. He saw
+himself haggard in the looking-glass. Would Barrett never come? “Every
+two hours”--the directions were explicit. Had he delivered himself into
+the gods’ hands? The eyes of Nellie O’Mora were on him compassionately;
+and all the eyes of his forerunners were on him in austere scorn: “See,”
+ they seemed to be saying, “the chastisement of last night’s blasphemy.”
+ Violently, insistently, he rang the bell.
+
+In rushed Barrett at last. From the tea-spoon into the wine-glass the
+Duke poured the draught of salvation, and then, raising it aloft, he
+looked around at his fore-runners and in a firm voice cried “Gentlemen,
+I give you Nellie O’Mora, the fairest witch that ever was or will be.”
+ He drained his glass, heaved the deep sigh of a double satisfaction,
+dismissed with a glance the wondering Barrett, and sat down.
+
+He was glad to be able to face Nellie with a clear conscience. Her eyes
+were not less sad now, but it seemed to him that their sadness came of a
+knowledge that she would never see him again. She seemed to be saying
+to him “Had you lived in my day, it is you that I would have loved, not
+Greddon.” And he made silent answer, “Had you lived in my day, I should
+have been Dobson-proof.” He realised, however, that to Zuleika he owed
+the tenderness he now felt for Miss O’Mora. It was Zuleika that had
+cured him of his aseity. She it was that had made his heart a warm and
+negotiable thing. Yes, and that was the final cruelty. To love and be
+loved--this, he had come to know, was all that mattered. Yesterday, to
+love and die had seemed felicity enough. Now he knew that the secret,
+the open secret, of happiness was in mutual love--a state that needed
+not the fillip of death. And he had to die without having ever lived.
+Admiration, homage, fear, he had sown broadcast. The one woman who had
+loved him had turned to stone because he loved her. Death would lose
+much of its sting for him if there were somewhere in the world just one
+woman, however lowly, whose heart would be broken by his dying. What a
+pity Nellie O’Mora was not really extant!
+
+Suddenly he recalled certain words lightly spoken yesterday by Zuleika.
+She had told him he was loved by the girl who waited on him--the
+daughter of his landlady. Was this so? He had seen no sign of it, had
+received no token of it. But, after all, how should he have seen a sign
+of anything in one whom he had never consciously visualised? That she
+had never thrust herself on his notice might mean merely that she had
+been well brought-up. What likelier than that the daughter of Mrs.
+Batch, that worthy soul, had been well brought up?
+
+Here, at any rate, was the chance of a new element in his life, or
+rather in his death. Here, possibly, was a maiden to mourn him. He would
+lunch in his rooms.
+
+With a farewell look at Nellie’s miniature, he took the medicine-bottle
+from the table, and went quickly out. The heavens had grown steadily
+darker and darker, the air more sulphurous and baleful. And the High had
+a strangely woebegone look, being all forsaken by youth, in this hour of
+luncheon. Even so would its look be all to-morrow, thought the Duke,
+and for many morrows. Well he had done what he could. He was free now to
+brighten a little his own last hours. He hastened on, eager to see the
+landlady’s daughter. He wondered what she was like, and whether she
+really loved him.
+
+As he threw open the door of his sitting-room, he was aware of a rustle,
+a rush, a cry. In another instant, he was aware of Zuleika Dobson at his
+feet, at his knees, clasping him to her, sobbing, laughing, sobbing.
+
+
+
+
+XVI
+
+For what happened a few moments later you must not blame him. Some
+measure of force was the only way out of an impossible situation. It was
+in vain that he commanded the young lady to let go: she did but cling
+the closer. It was in vain that he tried to disentangle himself of her
+by standing first on one foot, then on the other, and veering sharply on
+his heel: she did but sway as though hinged to him. He had no choice but
+to grasp her by the wrists, cast her aside, and step clear of her into
+the room.
+
+Her hat, gauzily basking with a pair of long white gloves on one of his
+arm-chairs, proclaimed that she had come to stay.
+
+Nor did she rise. Propped on one elbow, with heaving bosom and parted
+lips, she seemed to be trying to realise what had been done to her.
+Through her undried tears her eyes shone up to him.
+
+He asked: “To what am I indebted for this visit?”
+
+“Ah, say that again!” she murmured. “Your voice is music.”
+
+He repeated his question.
+
+“Music!” she said dreamily; and such is the force of habit that “I
+don’t,” she added, “know anything about music, really. But I know what I
+like.”
+
+“Had you not better get up from the floor?” he said. “The door is open,
+and any one who passed might see you.”
+
+Softly she stroked the carpet with the palms of her hands. “Happy
+carpet!” she crooned. “Aye, happy the very women that wove the threads
+that are trod by the feet of my beloved master. But hark! he bids his
+slave rise and stand before him!”
+
+Just after she had risen, a figure appeared in the doorway.
+
+“I beg pardon, your Grace; Mother wants to know, will you be lunching
+in?”
+
+“Yes,” said the Duke. “I will ring when I am ready.” And it dawned on
+him that this girl, who perhaps loved him, was, according to all known
+standards, extraordinarily pretty.
+
+“Will--” she hesitated, “will Miss Dobson be--”
+
+“No,” he said. “I shall be alone.” And there was in the girl’s parting
+half-glance at Zuleika that which told him he was truly loved, and made
+him the more impatient of his offensive and accursed visitor.
+
+“You want to be rid of me?” asked Zuleika, when the girl was gone.
+
+“I have no wish to be rude; but--since you force me to say it--yes.”
+
+“Then take me,” she cried, throwing back her arms, “and throw me out of
+the window.”
+
+He smiled coldly.
+
+“You think I don’t mean it? You think I would struggle? Try me.” She let
+herself droop sideways, in an attitude limp and portable. “Try me,” she
+repeated.
+
+“All this is very well conceived, no doubt,” said he, “and well
+executed. But it happens to be otiose.”
+
+“What do you mean?”
+
+“I mean you may set your mind at rest. I am not going to back out of my
+promise.”
+
+Zuleika flushed. “You are cruel. I would give the world and all not to
+have written you that hateful letter. Forget it, forget it, for pity’s
+sake!”
+
+The Duke looked searchingly at her. “You mean that you now wish to
+release me from my promise?”
+
+“Release you? As if you were ever bound! Don’t torture me!”
+
+He wondered what deep game she was playing. Very real, though, her
+anguish seemed; and, if real it was, then--he stared, he gasped--there
+could be but one explanation. He put it to her. “You love me?”
+
+“With all my soul.”
+
+His heart leapt. If she spoke truth, then indeed vengeance was his! But
+“What proof have I?” he asked her.
+
+“Proof? Have men absolutely NO intuition? If you need proof, produce it.
+Where are my ear-rings?”
+
+“Your ear-rings? Why?”
+
+Impatiently she pointed to two white pearls that fastened the front
+of her blouse. “These are your studs. It was from them I had the great
+first hint this morning.”
+
+“Black and pink, were they not, when you took them?”
+
+“Of course. And then I forgot that I had them. When I undressed, they
+must have rolled on to the carpet. Melisande found them this morning
+when she was making the room ready for me to dress. That was just after
+she came back from bringing you my first letter. I was bewildered. I
+doubted. Might not the pearls have gone back to their natural state
+simply through being yours no more? That is why I wrote again to you, my
+own darling--a frantic little questioning letter. When I heard how you
+had torn it up, I knew, I knew that the pearls had not mocked me. I
+telescoped my toilet and came rushing round to you. How many hours have
+I been waiting for you?”
+
+The Duke had drawn her ear-rings from his waistcoat pocket, and was
+contemplating them in the palm of his hand. Blanched, both of them, yes.
+He laid them on the table. “Take them,” he said.
+
+“No,” she shuddered. “I could never forget that once they were both
+black.” She flung them into the fender. “Oh John,” she cried, turning to
+him and falling again to her knees, “I do so want to forget what I have
+been. I want to atone. You think you can drive me out of your life. You
+cannot, darling--since you won’t kill me. Always I shall follow you on
+my knees, thus.”
+
+He looked down at her over his folded arms,
+
+“I am not going to back out of my promise,” he repeated.
+
+She stopped her ears.
+
+With a stern joy he unfolded his arms, took some papers from his
+breast-pocket, and, selecting one of them, handed it to her. It was the
+telegram sent by his steward.
+
+She read it. With a stern joy he watched her reading it.
+
+Wild-eyed, she looked up from it to him, tried to speak, and swerved
+down senseless.
+
+He had not foreseen this. “Help!” he vaguely cried--was she not a
+fellow-creature?--and rushed blindly out to his bedroom, whence he
+returned, a moment later, with the water-jug. He dipped his hand, and
+sprinkled the upturned face (Dew-drops on a white rose? But some
+other, sharper analogy hovered to him). He dipped and sprinkled. The
+water-beads broke, mingled--rivulets now. He dipped and flung, then
+caught the horrible analogy and rebounded.
+
+It was at this moment that Zuleika opened her eyes. “Where am I?” She
+weakly raised herself on one elbow; and the suspension of the Duke’s
+hatred would have been repealed simultaneously with that of her
+consciousness, had it not already been repealed by the analogy. She put
+a hand to her face, then looked at the wet palm wonderingly, looked at
+the Duke, saw the water-jug beside him. She, too, it seemed, had caught
+the analogy; for with a wan smile she said “We are quits now, John,
+aren’t we?”
+
+Her poor little jest drew to the Duke’s face no answering smile, did
+but make hotter the blush there. The wave of her returning memory swept
+on--swept up to her with a roar the instant past. “Oh,” she cried,
+staggering to her feet, “the owls, the owls!”
+
+Vengeance was his, and “Yes, there,” he said, “is the ineluctable hard
+fact you wake to. The owls have hooted. The gods have spoken. This day
+your wish is to be fulfilled.”
+
+“The owls have hooted. The gods have spoken. This day--oh, it must not
+be, John! Heaven have mercy on me!”
+
+“The unerring owls have hooted. The dispiteous and humorous gods have
+spoken. Miss Dobson, it has to be. And let me remind you,” he added,
+with a glance at his watch, “that you ought not to keep The MacQuern
+waiting for luncheon.”
+
+“That is unworthy of you,” she said. There was in her eyes a look that
+made the words sound as if they had been spoken by a dumb animal.
+
+“You have sent him an excuse?”
+
+“No, I have forgotten him.”
+
+“That is unworthy of you. After all, he is going to die for you, like
+the rest of us. I am but one of a number, you know. Use your sense of
+proportion.”
+
+“If I do that,” she said after a pause, “you may not be pleased by the
+issue. I may find that whereas yesterday I was great in my sinfulness,
+and to-day am great in my love, you, in your hate of me, are small. I
+may find that what I had taken to be a great indifference is nothing but
+a very small hate... Ah, I have wounded you? Forgive me, a weak woman,
+talking at random in her wretchedness. Oh John, John, if I thought you
+small, my love would but take on the crown of pity. Don’t forbid me to
+call you John. I looked you up in Debrett while I was waiting for you.
+That seemed to bring you nearer to me. So many other names you have,
+too. I remember you told me them all yesterday, here in this room--not
+twenty-four hours ago. Hours? Years!” She laughed hysterically. “John,
+don’t you see why I won’t stop talking? It’s because I dare not think.”
+
+“Yonder in Balliol,” he suavely said, “you will find the matter of my
+death easier to forget than here.” He took her hat and gloves from the
+arm-chair, and held them carefully out to her; but she did not take
+them.
+
+“I give you three minutes,” he told her. “Two minutes, that is, in
+which to make yourself tidy before the mirror. A third in which to say
+good-bye and be outside the front-door.”
+
+“If I refuse?”
+
+“You will not.”
+
+“If I do?”
+
+“I shall send for a policeman.”
+
+She looked well at him. “Yes,” she slowly said, “I think you would do
+that.”
+
+She took her things from him, and laid them by the mirror. With a high
+hand she quelled the excesses of her hair--some of the curls still
+agleam with water--and knowingly poised and pinned her hat. Then, after
+a few swift touches and passes at neck and waist, she took her gloves
+and, wheeling round to him, “There!” she said, “I have been quick.”
+
+“Admirably,” he allowed.
+
+“Quick in more than meets the eye, John. Spiritually quick. You saw me
+putting on my hat; you did not see love taking on the crown of pity, and
+me bonneting her with it, tripping her up and trampling the life out of
+her. Oh, a most cold-blooded business, John! Had to be done, though. No
+other way out. So I just used my sense of proportion, as you rashly
+bade me, and then hardened my heart at sight of you as you are. One of
+a number? Yes, and a quite unlovable unit. So I am all right again. And
+now, where is Balliol? Far from here?”
+
+“No,” he answered, choking a little, as might a card-player who, having
+been dealt a splendid hand, and having played it with flawless skill,
+has yet--damn it!--lost the odd trick. “Balliol is quite near. At the
+end of this street in fact. I can show it to you from the front-door.”
+
+Yes, he had controlled himself. But this, he furiously felt, did not
+make him look the less a fool. What ought he to have SAID? He prayed,
+as he followed the victorious young woman downstairs, that l’esprit de
+l’escalier might befall him. Alas, it did not.
+
+“By the way,” she said, when he had shown her where Balliol lay, “have
+you told anybody that you aren’t dying just for me?”
+
+“No,” he answered, “I have preferred not to.”
+
+“Then officially, as it were, and in the eyes of the world, you die for
+me? Then all’s well that ends well. Shall we say good-bye here? I
+shall be on the Judas Barge; but I suppose there will be a crush, as
+yesterday?”
+
+“Sure to be. There always is on the last night of the Eights, you know.
+Good-bye.”
+
+“Good-bye, little John--small John,” she cried across her shoulder,
+having the last word.
+
+
+
+
+XVII
+
+He might not have grudged her the last word, had she properly needed
+it. Its utter superfluity--the perfection of her victory without it--was
+what galled him. Yes, she had outflanked him, taken him unawares, and he
+had fired not one shot. Esprit de l’escalier--it was as he went upstairs
+that he saw how he might yet have snatched from her, if not the victory,
+the palm. Of course he ought to have laughed aloud--“Capital, capital!
+You really do deserve to fool me. But ah, yours is a love that can’t be
+dissembled. Never was man by maiden loved more ardently than I by you,
+my poor girl, at this moment.”
+
+And stay!--what if she really HAD been but pretending to have killed her
+love? He paused on the threshold of his room. The sudden doubt made his
+lost chance the more sickening. Yet was the doubt dear to him ... What
+likelier, after all, than that she had been pretending? She had already
+twitted him with his lack of intuition. He had not seen that she
+loved him when she certainly did love him. He had needed the pearls’
+demonstration of that.--The pearls! THEY would betray her. He darted to
+the fender, and one of them he espied there instantly--white? A rather
+flushed white, certainly. For the other he had to peer down. There it
+lay, not very distinct on the hearth’s black-leading.
+
+He turned away. He blamed himself for not dismissing from his mind the
+hussy he had dismissed from his room. Oh for an ounce of civet and a
+few poppies! The water-jug stood as a reminder of the hateful visit
+and of... He took it hastily away into his bedroom. There he washed
+his hands. The fact that he had touched Zuleika gave to this ablution a
+symbolism that made it the more refreshing.
+
+Civet, poppies? Was there not, at his call, a sweeter perfume, a
+stronger anodyne? He rang the bell, almost caressingly.
+
+His heart beat at sound of the clinking and rattling of the tray borne
+up the stairs. She was coming, the girl who loved him, the girl whose
+heart would be broken when he died. Yet, when the tray appeared in the
+doorway, and she behind it, the tray took precedence of her in his soul
+not less than in his sight. Twice, after an arduous morning, had his
+luncheon been postponed, and the coming of it now made intolerable the
+pangs of his hunger.
+
+Also, while the girl laid the table-cloth, it occurred to him how
+flimsy, after all, was the evidence that she loved him. Suppose she
+did nothing of the kind! At the Junta, he had foreseen no difficulty in
+asking her. Now he found himself a prey to embarrassment. He wondered
+why. He had not failed in flow of gracious words to Nellie O’Mora. Well,
+a miniature by Hoppner was one thing, a landlady’s live daughter was
+another. At any rate, he must prime himself with food. He wished Mrs.
+Batch had sent up something more calorific than cold salmon. He asked
+her daughter what was to follow.
+
+“There’s a pigeon-pie, your Grace.”
+
+“Cold? Then please ask your mother to heat it in the oven--quickly.
+Anything after that?”
+
+“A custard pudding, your Grace.”
+
+“Cold? Let this, too, be heated. And bring up a bottle of champagne,
+please; and--and a bottle of port.”
+
+His was a head that had always hitherto defied the grape. But he thought
+that to-day, by all he had gone through, by all the shocks he had
+suffered, and the strains he had steeled himself to bear, as well as by
+the actual malady that gripped him, he might perchance have been sapped
+enough to experience by reaction that cordial glow of which he had now
+and again seen symptoms in his fellows.
+
+Nor was he altogether disappointed of this hope. As the meal progressed,
+and the last of the champagne sparkled in his glass, certain things
+said to him by Zuleika--certain implied criticisms that had rankled,
+yes--lost their power to discommode him. He was able to smile at the
+impertinences of an angry woman, the tantrums of a tenth-rate conjurer
+told to go away. He felt he had perhaps acted harshly. With all her
+faults, she had adored him. Yes, he had been arbitrary. There seemed to
+be a strain of brutality in his nature. Poor Zuleika! He was glad for
+her that she had contrived to master her infatuation... Enough for him
+that he was loved by this exquisite meek girl who had served him at the
+feast. Anon, when he summoned her to clear the things away, he would bid
+her tell him the tale of her lowly passion. He poured a second glass
+of port, sipped it, quaffed it, poured a third. The grey gloom of the
+weather did but, as he eyed the bottle, heighten his sense of the rich
+sunshine so long ago imprisoned by the vintner and now released to make
+glad his soul. Even so to be released was the love pent for him in the
+heart of this sweet girl. Would that he loved her in return!... Why not?
+
+
+                             “Prius insolentem
+                    Serva Briseis niveo colore
+                          Movit Achillem.”
+
+
+Nor were it gracious to invite an avowal of love and offer none in
+return. Yet, yet, expansive though his mood was, he could not pretend to
+himself that he was about to feel in this girl’s presence anything but
+gratitude. He might pretend to her? Deception were a very poor return
+indeed for all her kindness. Besides, it might turn her head. Some small
+token of his gratitude--some trinket by which to remember him--was all
+that he could allow himself to offer... What trinket? Would she like
+to have one of his scarf-pins? Studs? Still more abs--Ah! he had it, he
+literally and most providentially had it, there, in the fender: a pair
+of ear-rings!
+
+He plucked the pink pearl and the black from where they lay, and rang
+the bell.
+
+His sense of dramatic propriety needed that the girl should, before he
+addressed her, perform her task of clearing the table. If she had it
+to perform after telling her love, and after receiving his gift and his
+farewell, the bathos would be distressing for them both.
+
+But, while he watched her at her task, he did wish she would be a little
+quicker. For the glow in him seemed to be cooling momently. He wished
+he had had more than three glasses from the crusted bottle which she was
+putting away into the chiffonier. Down, doubt! Down, sense of disparity!
+The moment was at hand. Would he let it slip? Now she was folding up the
+table-cloth, now she was going.
+
+“Stay!” he uttered. “I have something to say to you.” The girl turned to
+him.
+
+He forced his eyes to meet hers. “I understand,” he said in a
+constrained voice, “that you regard me with sentiments of something more
+than esteem.--Is this so?”
+
+The girl had stepped quickly back, and her face was scarlet.
+
+“Nay,” he said, having to go through with it now, “there is no cause for
+embarrassment. And I am sure you will acquit me of wanton curiosity. Is
+it a fact that you--love me?”
+
+She tried to speak, could not. But she nodded her head.
+
+The Duke, much relieved, came nearer to her.
+
+“What is your name?” he asked gently.
+
+“Katie,” she was able to gasp.
+
+“Well, Katie, how long have you loved me?”
+
+“Ever since,” she faltered, “ever since you came to engage the rooms.”
+
+“You are not, of course, given to idolising any tenant of your
+mother’s?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“May I boast myself the first possessor of your heart?”
+
+“Yes.” She had become very pale now, and was trembling painfully.
+
+“And may I assume that your love for me has been entirely
+disinterested?... You do not catch my meaning? I will put my question in
+another way. In loving me, you never supposed me likely to return your
+love?”
+
+The girl looked up at him quickly, but at once her eyelids fluttered
+down again.
+
+“Come, come!” said the Duke. “My question is a plain one. Did you ever
+for an instant suppose, Katie, that I might come to love you?”
+
+“No,” she said in a whisper; “I never dared to hope that.”
+
+“Precisely,” said he. “You never imagined that you had anything to
+gain by your affection. You were not contriving a trap for me. You were
+upheld by no hope of becoming a young Duchess, with more frocks than
+you could wear and more dross than you could scatter. I am glad. I
+am touched. You are the first woman that has loved me in that way. Or
+rather,” he muttered, “the first but one. And she... Answer me,” he
+said, standing over the girl, and speaking with a great intensity. “If I
+were to tell you that I loved you, would you cease to love me?”
+
+“Oh your Grace!” cried the girl. “Why no! I never dared--”
+
+“Enough!” he said. “The catechism is ended. I have something which I
+should like to give you. Are your ears pierced?”
+
+“Yes, your Grace.”
+
+“Then, Katie, honour me by accepting this present.” So saying, he placed
+in the girl’s hand the black pearl and the pink. The sight of them
+banished for a moment all other emotions in their recipient. She forgot
+herself. “Lor!” she said.
+
+“I hope you will wear them always for my sake,” said the Duke.
+
+She had expressed herself in the monosyllable. No words came to her
+lips, but to her eyes many tears, through which the pearls were
+visible. They whirled in her bewildered brain as a token that she was
+loved--loved by HIM, though but yesterday he had loved another. It was
+all so sudden, so beautiful. You might have knocked her down (she says
+so to this day) with a feather. Seeing her agitation, the Duke pointed
+to a chair, bade her be seated.
+
+Her mind was cleared by the new posture. Suspicion crept into it,
+followed by alarm. She looked at the ear-rings, then up at the Duke.
+
+“No,” said he, misinterpreting the question in her eyes, “they are real
+pearls.”
+
+“It isn’t that,” she quavered, “it is--it is--”
+
+“That they were given to me by Miss Dobson?”
+
+“Oh, they were, were they? Then”--Katie rose, throwing the pearls on the
+floor--“I’ll have nothing to do with them. I hate her.”
+
+“So do I,” said the Duke, in a burst of confidence. “No, I don’t,” he
+added hastily. “Please forget that I said that.”
+
+It occurred to Katie that Miss Dobson would be ill-pleased that the
+pearls should pass to her. She picked them up.
+
+“Only--only--” again her doubts beset her and she looked from the pearls
+to the Duke.
+
+“Speak on,” he said.
+
+“Oh you aren’t playing with me, are you? You don’t mean me harm, do you?
+I have been well brought up. I have been warned against things. And it
+seems so strange, what you have said to me. You are a Duke, and I--I am
+only--”
+
+“It is the privilege of nobility to condescend.”
+
+“Yes, yes,” she cried. “I see. Oh I was wicked to doubt you. And love
+levels all, doesn’t it? love and the Board school. Our stations are far
+apart, but I’ve been educated far above mine. I’ve learnt more than most
+real ladies have. I passed the Seventh Standard when I was only just
+fourteen. I was considered one of the sharpest girls in the school. And
+I’ve gone on learning since then,” she continued eagerly. “I utilise all
+my spare moments. I’ve read twenty-seven of the Hundred Best Books. I
+collect ferns. I play the piano, whenever...” She broke off, for she
+remembered that her music was always interrupted by the ringing of the
+Duke’s bell and a polite request that it should cease.
+
+“I am glad to hear of these accomplishments. They do you great credit, I
+am sure. But--well, I do not quite see why you enumerate them just now.”
+
+“It isn’t that I am vain,” she pleaded. “I only mentioned them because
+... oh, don’t you see? If I’m not ignorant, I shan’t disgrace you.
+People won’t be so able to say you’ve been and thrown yourself away.”
+
+“Thrown myself away? What do you mean?”
+
+“Oh, they’ll make all sorts of objections, I know. They’ll all be
+against me, and--”
+
+“For heaven’s sake, explain yourself.”
+
+“Your aunt, she looked a very proud lady--very high and hard. I thought
+so when she came here last term. But you’re of age. You’re your own
+master. Oh, I trust you; you’ll stand by me. If you love me really you
+won’t listen to them.”
+
+“Love you? I? Are you mad?”
+
+Each stared at the other, utterly bewildered.
+
+The girl was the first to break the silence. Her voice came in a
+whisper. “You’ve not been playing a joke on me? You meant what you said,
+didn’t you?”
+
+“What have I said?”
+
+“You said you loved me.”
+
+“You must be dreaming.”
+
+“I’m not. Here are the ear-rings you gave me.” She pinched them as
+material proof. “You said you loved me just before you gave me them.
+You know you did. And if I thought you’d been laughing at me all the
+time--I’d--I’d”--a sob choked her voice--“I’d throw them in your face!”
+
+“You must not speak to me in that manner,” said the Duke coldly. “And
+let me warn you that this attempt to trap me and intimidate me--”
+
+The girl had flung the ear-rings at his face. She had missed her mark.
+But this did not extenuate the outrageous gesture. He pointed to the
+door. “Go!” he said.
+
+“Don’t try that on!” she laughed. “I shan’t go--not unless you drag
+me out. And if you do that, I’ll raise the house. I’ll have in the
+neighbours. I’ll tell them all what you’ve done, and--” But defiance
+melted in the hot shame of humiliation. “Oh, you coward!” she gasped.
+“You coward!” She caught her apron to her face and, swaying against the
+wall, sobbed piteously.
+
+Unaccustomed to love-affairs, the Duke could not sail lightly over a
+flood of woman’s tears. He was filled with pity for the poor quivering
+figure against the wall. How should he soothe her? Mechanically he
+picked up the two pearls from the carpet, and crossed to her side. He
+touched her on the shoulder. She shuddered away from him.
+
+“Don’t,” he said gently. “Don’t cry. I can’t bear it. I have been stupid
+and thoughtless. What did you say your name was? ‘Katie,’ to be sure.
+Well, Katie, I want to beg your pardon. I expressed myself badly. I was
+unhappy and lonely, and I saw in you a means of comfort. I snatched
+at you, Katie, as at a straw. And then, I suppose, I must have said
+something which made you think I loved you. I almost wish I did. I don’t
+wonder you threw the ear-rings at me. I--I almost wish they had hit
+me... You see, I have quite forgiven you. Now do you forgive me. You
+will not refuse now to wear the ear-rings. I gave them to you as a
+keepsake. Wear them always in memory of me. For you will never see me
+again.”
+
+The girl had ceased from crying, and her anger had spent itself in sobs.
+She was gazing at him woebegone but composed.
+
+“Where are you going?”
+
+“You must not ask that,” said he. “Enough that my wings are spread.”
+
+“Are you going because of ME?”
+
+“Not in the least. Indeed, your devotion is one of the things which make
+bitter my departure. And yet--I am glad you love me.”
+
+“Don’t go,” she faltered. He came nearer to her, and this time she did
+not shrink from him. “Don’t you find the rooms comfortable?” she asked,
+gazing up at him. “Have you ever had any complaint to make about the
+attendance?”
+
+“No,” said the Duke, “the attendance has always been quite satisfactory.
+I have never felt that so keenly as I do to-day.”
+
+“Then why are you leaving? Why are you breaking my heart?”
+
+“Suffice it that I cannot do otherwise. Henceforth you will see me no
+more. But I doubt not that in the cultivation of my memory you will find
+some sort of lugubrious satisfaction. See! here are the ear-rings. If
+you like, I will put them in with my own hands.”
+
+She held up her face side-ways. Into the lobe of her left ear he
+insinuated the hook of the black pearl. On the cheek upturned to him
+there were still traces of tears; the eyelashes were still spangled. For
+all her blondness, they were quite dark, these glistening eyelashes. He
+had an impulse, which he put from him. “Now the other ear,” he said. The
+girl turned her head. Soon the pink pearl was in its place. Yet the girl
+did not move. She seemed to be waiting. Nor did the Duke himself seem to
+be quite satisfied. He let his fingers dally with the pearl. Anon, with
+a sigh, he withdrew them. The girl looked up. Their eyes met. He looked
+away from her. He turned away from her. “You may kiss my hand,” he
+murmured, extending it towards her. After a pause, the warm pressure
+of her lips was laid on it. He sighed, but did not look round. Another
+pause, a longer pause, and then the clatter and clink of the outgoing
+tray.
+
+
+
+
+XVIII
+
+Her actual offspring does not suffice a very motherly woman. Such a
+woman was Mrs. Batch. Had she been blest with a dozen children, she
+must yet have regarded herself as also a mother to whatever two young
+gentlemen were lodging under her roof. Childless but for Katie and
+Clarence, she had for her successive pairs of tenants a truly vast fund
+of maternal feeling to draw on. Nor were the drafts made in secret. To
+every gentleman, from the outset, she proclaimed the relation in which
+she would stand to him. Moreover, always she needed a strong filial
+sense in return: this was only fair.
+
+Because the Duke was an orphan, even more than because he was a Duke,
+her heart had with a special rush gone out to him when he and Mr. Noaks
+became her tenants. But, perhaps because he had never known a mother,
+he was evidently quite incapable of conceiving either Mrs. Batch as his
+mother or himself as her son. Indeed, there was that in his manner,
+in his look, which made her falter, for once, in exposition of her
+theory--made her postpone the matter to some more favourable time. That
+time never came, somehow. Still, her solicitude for him, her pride in
+him, her sense that he was a great credit to her, rather waxed than
+waned. He was more to her (such are the vagaries of the maternal
+instinct) than Katie or Mr. Noaks: he was as much as Clarence.
+
+It was, therefore, a deeply agitated woman who now came heaving up into
+the Duke’s presence. His Grace was “giving notice”? She was sure she
+begged his pardon for coming up so sudden. But the news was that
+sudden. Hadn’t her girl made a mistake, maybe? Girls were so vague-like
+nowadays. She was sure it was most kind of him to give those handsome
+ear-rings. But the thought of him going off so unexpected--middle of
+term, too--with never a why or a but! Well!
+
+In some such welter of homely phrase (how foreign to these classic
+pages!) did Mrs. Batch utter her pain. The Duke answered her tersely but
+kindly. He apologised for going so abruptly, and said he would be very
+happy to write for her future use a testimonial to the excellence of
+her rooms and of her cooking; and with it he would give her a cheque not
+only for the full term’s rent, and for his board since the beginning of
+term, but also for such board as he would have been likely to have in
+the term’s remainder. He asked her to present her accounts forthwith.
+
+He occupied the few minutes of her absence by writing the testimonial.
+It had shaped itself in his mind as a short ode in Doric Greek. But, for
+the benefit of Mrs. Batch, he chose to do a rough equivalent in English.
+
+
+     TO AN UNDERGRADUATE NEEDING
+     ROOMS IN OXFORD
+
+     (A Sonnet in Oxfordshire Dialect)
+
+     Zeek w’ere thee will in t’Univursity,
+     Lad, thee’ll not vind nor bread nor bed that
+          matches
+     Them as thee’ll vind, roight zure, at Mrs.
+          Batch’s...
+
+
+I do not quote the poem in extenso, because, frankly, I think it was one
+of his least happily-inspired works. His was not a Muse that could with
+a good grace doff the grand manner. Also, his command of the Oxfordshire
+dialect seems to me based less on study than on conjecture. In fact, I
+do not place the poem higher than among the curiosities of literature.
+It has extrinsic value, however, as illustrating the Duke’s
+thoughtfulness for others in the last hours of his life. And to Mrs.
+Batch the MS., framed and glazed in her hall, is an asset beyond price
+(witness her recent refusal of Mr. Pierpont Morgan’s sensational bid for
+it).
+
+This MS. she received together with the Duke’s cheque. The presentation
+was made some twenty minutes after she had laid her accounts before him.
+
+Lavish in giving large sums of his own accord, he was apt to be
+circumspect in the matter of small payments. Such is ever the way of
+opulent men. Nor do I see that we have a right to sneer at them for it.
+We cannot deny that their existence is a temptation to us. It is in our
+fallen nature to want to get something out of them; and, as we think in
+small sums (heaven knows), it is of small sums that they are careful.
+Absurd to suppose they really care about halfpence. It must, therefore,
+be about us that they care; and we ought to be grateful to them for the
+pains they are at to keep us guiltless. I do not suggest that Mrs. Batch
+had at any point overcharged the Duke; but how was he to know that she
+had not done so, except by checking the items, as was his wont? The
+reductions that he made, here and there, did not in all amount to
+three-and-sixpence. I do not say they were just. But I do say that his
+motive for making them, and his satisfaction at having made them, were
+rather beautiful than otherwise.
+
+Having struck an average of Mrs. Batch’s weekly charges, and a similar
+average of his own reductions, he had a basis on which to reckon his
+board for the rest of the term. This amount he added to Mrs. Batch’s
+amended total, plus the full term’s rent, and accordingly drew a cheque
+on the local bank where he had an account. Mrs. Batch said she would
+bring up a stamped receipt directly; but this the Duke waived,
+saying that the cashed cheque itself would be a sufficient receipt.
+Accordingly, he reduced by one penny the amount written on the cheque.
+Remembering to initial the correction, he remembered also, with a
+melancholy smile, that to-morrow the cheque would not be negotiable.
+Handing it, and the sonnet, to Mrs. Batch, he bade her cash it before
+the bank closed. “And,” he said, with a glance at his watch, “you have
+no time to lose. It is a quarter to four.” Only two hours and a quarter
+before the final races! How quickly the sands were running out!
+
+Mrs. Batch paused on the threshold, wanted to know if she could “help
+with the packing.” The Duke replied that he was taking nothing with him:
+his various things would be sent for, packed, and removed, within a few
+days. No, he did not want her to order a cab. He was going to walk. And
+“Good-bye, Mrs. Batch,” he said. “For legal reasons with which I won’t
+burden you, you really must cash that cheque at once.”
+
+He sat down in solitude; and there crept over him a mood of deep
+depression... Almost two hours and a quarter before the final races!
+What on earth should he do in the meantime? He seemed to have done all
+that there was for him to do. His executors would do the rest. He had no
+farewell-letters to write. He had no friends with whom he was on terms
+of valediction. There was nothing at all for him to do. He stared
+blankly out of the window, at the greyness and blackness of the sky.
+What a day! What a climate! Why did any sane person live in England? He
+felt positively suicidal.
+
+His dully vagrant eye lighted on the bottle of Cold Mixture. He ought to
+have dosed himself a full hour ago. Well, he didn’t care.
+
+Had Zuleika noticed the bottle? he idly wondered. Probably not. She
+would have made some sprightly reference to it before she went.
+
+Since there was nothing to do but sit and think, he wished he could
+recapture that mood in which at luncheon he had been able to see Zuleika
+as an object for pity. Never, till to-day, had he seen things otherwise
+than they were. Nor had he ever needed to. Never, till last night, had
+there been in his life anything he needed to forget. That woman! As
+if it really mattered what she thought of him. He despised himself for
+wishing to forget she despised him. But the wish was the measure of the
+need. He eyed the chiffonier. Should he again solicit the grape?
+
+Reluctantly he uncorked the crusted bottle, and filled a glass. Was he
+come to this? He sighed and sipped, quaffed and sighed. The spell of the
+old stored sunshine seemed not to work, this time. He could not cease
+from plucking at the net of ignominies in which his soul lay enmeshed.
+Would that he had died yesterday, escaping how much!
+
+Not for an instant did he flinch from the mere fact of dying to-day.
+Since he was not immortal, as he had supposed, it were as well he should
+die now as fifty years hence. Better, indeed. To die “untimely,” as men
+called it, was the timeliest of all deaths for one who had carved his
+youth to greatness. What perfection could he, Dorset, achieve beyond
+what was already his? Future years could but stale, if not actually
+mar, that perfection. Yes, it was lucky to perish leaving much to the
+imagination of posterity. Dear posterity was of a sentimental, not
+a realistic, habit. She always imagined the dead young hero prancing
+gloriously up to the Psalmist’s limit a young hero still; and it was the
+sense of her vast loss that kept his memory green. Byron!--he would be
+all forgotten to-day if he had lived to be a florid old gentleman with
+iron-grey whiskers, writing very long, very able letters to “The Times”
+ about the Repeal of the Corn Laws. Yes, Byron would have been that. It
+was indicated in him. He would have been an old gentleman exacerbated by
+Queen Victoria’s invincible prejudice against him, her brusque refusal
+to “entertain” Lord John Russell’s timid nomination of him for a post
+in the Government... Shelley would have been a poet to the last. But how
+dull, how very dull, would have been the poetry of his middle age!--a
+great unreadable mass interposed between him and us... Did Byron, mused
+the Duke, know what was to be at Missolonghi? Did he know that he was
+to die in service of the Greeks whom he despised? Byron might not have
+minded that. But what if the Greeks had told him, in so many words,
+that they despised HIM? How would he have felt then? Would he have been
+content with his potations of barley-water?... The Duke replenished his
+glass, hoping the spell might work yet.... Perhaps, had Byron not been a
+dandy--but ah, had he not been in his soul a dandy there would have
+been no Byron worth mentioning. And it was because he guarded not his
+dandyism against this and that irrelevant passion, sexual or political,
+that he cut so annoyingly incomplete a figure. He was absurd in his
+politics, vulgar in his loves. Only in himself, at the times when he
+stood haughtily aloof, was he impressive. Nature, fashioning him, had
+fashioned also a pedestal for him to stand and brood on, to pose and
+sing on. Off that pedestal he was lost.... “The idol has come sliding
+down from its pedestal”--the Duke remembered these words spoken
+yesterday by Zuleika. Yes, at the moment when he slid down, he, too, was
+lost. For him, master-dandy, the common arena was no place. What had he
+to do with love? He was an utter fool at it. Byron had at least had some
+fun out of it. What fun had HE had? Last night, he had forgotten to kiss
+Zuleika when he held her by the wrists. To-day it had been as much as he
+could do to let poor little Katie kiss his hand. Better be vulgar
+with Byron than a noodle with Dorset! he bitterly reflected... Still,
+noodledom was nearer than vulgarity to dandyism. It was a less flagrant
+lapse. And he had over Byron this further advantage: his noodledom was
+not a matter of common knowledge; whereas Byron’s vulgarity had ever
+needed to be in the glare of the footlights of Europe. The world
+would say of him that he laid down his life for a woman. Deplorable
+somersault? But nothing evident save this in his whole life was
+faulty... The one other thing that might be carped at--the partisan
+speech he made in the Lords--had exquisitely justified itself by its
+result. For it was as a Knight of the Garter that he had set the perfect
+seal on his dandyism. Yes, he reflected, it was on the day when first
+he donned the most grandiose of all costumes, and wore it grandlier
+than ever yet in history had it been worn, than ever would it be worn
+hereafter, flaunting the robes with a grace unparalleled and inimitable,
+and lending, as it were, to the very insignia a glory beyond their own,
+that he once and for all fulfilled himself, doer of that which he had
+been sent into the world to do.
+
+And there floated into his mind a desire, vague at first, soon definite,
+imperious, irresistible, to see himself once more, before he died,
+indued in the fulness of his glory and his might.
+
+Nothing hindered. There was yet a whole hour before he need start for
+the river. His eyes dilated, somewhat as might those of a child about to
+“dress up” for a charade; and already, in his impatience, he had undone
+his neck-tie.
+
+One after another, he unlocked and threw open the black tin boxes,
+snatching out greedily their great good splendours of crimson and white
+and royal blue and gold. You wonder he was not appalled by the task of
+essaying unaided a toilet so extensive and so intricate? You wondered
+even when you heard that he was wont at Oxford to make without help his
+toilet of every day. Well, the true dandy is always capable of such high
+independence. He is craftsman as well as artist. And, though any unaided
+Knight but he with whom we are here concerned would belike have doddered
+hopeless in that labyrinth of hooks and buckles which underlies the
+visible glory of a Knight “arraied full and proper,” Dorset threaded his
+way featly and without pause. He had mastered his first excitement. In
+his swiftness was no haste. His procedure had the ease and inevitability
+of a natural phenomenon, and was most like to the coming of a rainbow.
+
+Crimson-doubleted, blue-ribanded, white-trunk-hosed, he stooped to
+understrap his left knee with that strap of velvet round which
+sparkles the proud gay motto of the Order. He affixed to his breast the
+octoradiant star, so much larger and more lustrous than any actual star
+in heaven. Round his neck he slung that long daedal chain wherefrom St.
+George, slaying the Dragon, dangles. He bowed his shoulders to assume
+that vast mantle of blue velvet, so voluminous, so enveloping, that,
+despite the Cross of St. George blazing on it, and the shoulder-knots
+like two great white tropical flowers planted on it, we seem to know
+from it in what manner of mantle Elijah prophesied. Across his breast
+he knotted this mantle’s two cords of gleaming bullion, one tassel a
+due trifle higher than its fellow. All these things being done, he moved
+away from the mirror, and drew on a pair of white kid gloves. Both of
+these being buttoned, he plucked up certain folds of his mantle into the
+hollow of his left arm, and with his right hand gave to his left hand
+that ostrich-plumed and heron-plumed hat of black velvet in which a
+Knight of the Garter is entitled to take his walks abroad. Then, with
+head erect, and measured tread, he returned to the mirror.
+
+You are thinking, I know, of Mr. Sargent’s famous portrait of him.
+Forget it. Tankerton Hall is open to the public on Wednesdays. Go
+there, and in the dining-hall stand to study well Sir Thomas Lawrence’s
+portrait of the eleventh Duke. Imagine a man some twenty years younger
+than he whom you there behold, but having some such features and some
+such bearing, and clad in just such robes. Sublimate the dignity of
+that bearing and of those features, and you will then have seen the
+fourteenth Duke somewhat as he stood reflected in the mirror of his
+room. Resist your impulse to pass on to the painting which hangs next
+but two to Lawrence’s. It deserves, I know, all that you said about it
+when (at the very time of the events in this chronicle) it was hanging
+in Burlington House. Marvellous, I grant you, are those passes of the
+swirling brush by which the velvet of the mantle is rendered--passes so
+light and seemingly so fortuitous, yet, seen at the right distance,
+so absolute in their power to create an illusion of the actual velvet.
+Sheen of white satin and silk, glint of gold, glitter of diamonds--never
+were such things caught by surer hand obedient to more voracious eye.
+Yes, all the splendid surface of everything is there. Yet must you not
+look. The soul is not there. An expensive, very new costume is there,
+but no evocation of the high antique things it stands for; whereas by
+the Duke it was just these things that were evoked to make an aura round
+him, a warm symbolic glow sharpening the outlines of his own
+particular magnificence. Reflecting him, the mirror reflected, in due
+subordination, the history of England. There is nothing of that on Mr.
+Sargent’s canvas. Obtruded instead is the astounding slickness of Mr.
+Sargent’s technique: not the sitter, but the painter, is master here.
+Nay, though I hate to say it, there is in the portrayal of the Duke’s
+attitude and expression a hint of something like mockery--unintentional,
+I am sure, but to a sensitive eye discernible. And--but it is clumsy of
+me to be reminding you of the very picture I would have you forget.
+
+Long stood the Duke gazing, immobile. One thing alone ruffled his deep
+inward calm. This was the thought that he must presently put off from
+him all his splendour, and be his normal self.
+
+The shadow passed from his brow. He would go forth as he was. He would
+be true to the motto he wore, and true to himself. A dandy he had lived.
+In the full pomp and radiance of his dandyism he would die.
+
+His soul rose from calm to triumph. A smile lit his face, and he held
+his head higher than ever. He had brought nothing into this world and
+could take nothing out of it? Well, what he loved best he could carry
+with him to the very end; and in death they would not be divided.
+
+The smile was still on his face as he passed out from his room. Down
+the stairs he passed, and “Oh,” every stair creaked faintly, “I ought to
+have been marble!”
+
+And it did indeed seem that Mrs. Batch and Katie, who had hurried
+out into the hall, were turned to some kind of stone at sight of the
+descending apparition. A moment ago, Mrs. Batch had been hoping she
+might yet at the last speak motherly words. A hopeless mute now! A
+moment ago, Katie’s eyelids had been red with much weeping. Even from
+them the colour suddenly ebbed now. Dead-white her face was between the
+black pearl and the pink. “And this is the man of whom I dared once for
+an instant hope that he loved me!”--it was thus that the Duke, quite
+correctly, interpreted her gaze.
+
+To her and to her mother he gave an inclusive bow as he swept slowly by.
+Stone was the matron, and stone the maid.
+
+Stone, too, the Emperors over the way; and the more poignantly thereby
+was the Duke a sight to anguish them, being the very incarnation of what
+themselves had erst been, or tried to be. But in this bitterness they
+did not forget their sorrow at his doom. They were in a mood to forgive
+him the one fault they had ever found in him--his indifference to their
+Katie. And now--o mirum mirorum--even this one fault was wiped out.
+
+For, stung by memory of a gibe lately cast at him by himself, the Duke
+had paused and, impulsively looking back into the hall, had beckoned
+Katie to him; and she had come (she knew not how) to him; and there,
+standing on the doorstep whose whiteness was the symbol of her love,
+he--very lightly, it is true, and on the upmost confines of the brow,
+but quite perceptibly--had kissed her.
+
+
+
+
+XIX
+
+And now he had passed under the little arch between the eighth and the
+ninth Emperor, rounded the Sheldonian, and been lost to sight of Katie,
+whom, as he was equally glad and sorry he had kissed her, he was able to
+dismiss from his mind.
+
+In the quadrangle of the Old Schools he glanced round at the familiar
+labels, blue and gold, over the iron-studded doors,--Schola Theologiae
+et Antiquae Philosophiae; Museum Arundelianum; Schola Musicae. And
+Bibliotheca Bodleiana--he paused there, to feel for the last time the
+vague thrill he had always felt at sight of the small and devious portal
+that had lured to itself, and would always lure, so many scholars from
+the ends of the earth, scholars famous and scholars obscure, scholars
+polyglot and of the most diverse bents, but none of them not stirred in
+heart somewhat on the found threshold of the treasure-house. “How
+deep, how perfect, the effect made here by refusal to make any effect
+whatsoever!” thought the Duke. Perhaps, after all... but no: one could
+lay down no general rule. He flung his mantle a little wider from his
+breast, and proceeded into Radcliffe Square.
+
+Another farewell look he gave to the old vast horse-chestnut that is
+called Bishop Heber’s tree. Certainly, no: there was no general rule.
+With its towering and bulging masses of verdure tricked out all over in
+their annual finery of catkins, Bishop Heber’s tree stood for the very
+type of ingenuous ostentation. And who should dare cavil? who not be
+gladdened? Yet awful, more than gladdening, was the effect that the tree
+made to-day. Strangely pale was the verdure against the black sky; and
+the multitudinous catkins had a look almost ghostly. The Duke remembered
+the legend that every one of these fair white spires of blossom is
+the spirit of some dead man who, having loved Oxford much and well, is
+suffered thus to revisit her, for a brief while, year by year. And
+it pleased him to doubt not that on one of the topmost branches, next
+Spring, his own spirit would be.
+
+“Oh, look!” cried a young lady emerging with her brother and her aunt
+through the gate of Brasenose.
+
+“For heaven’s sake, Jessie, try to behave yourself,” hissed her brother.
+“Aunt Mabel, for heaven’s sake don’t stare.” He compelled the pair to
+walk on with him. “Jessie, if you look round over your shoulder...
+No, it is NOT the Vice-Chancellor. It’s Dorset, of Judas--the Duke of
+Dorset... Why on earth shouldn’t he?... No, it isn’t odd in the least...
+No, I’m NOT losing my temper. Only, don’t call me your dear boy... No,
+we will NOT walk slowly so as to let him pass us... Jessie, if you look
+round...”
+
+Poor fellow! However fond an undergraduate be of his womenfolk, at
+Oxford they keep him in a painful state of tension: at any moment they
+may somehow disgrace him. And if throughout the long day he shall have
+had the added strain of guarding them from the knowledge that he is
+about to commit suicide, a certain measure of irritability must be
+condoned.
+
+Poor Jessie and Aunt Mabel! They were destined to remember that Harold
+had been “very peculiar” all day. They had arrived in the morning, happy
+and eager despite the menace of the sky, and--well, they were destined
+to reproach themselves for having felt that Harold was “really rather
+impossible.” Oh, if he had only confided in them! They could have
+reasoned with him, saved him--surely they could have saved him! When he
+told them that the “First Division” of the races was always very dull,
+and that they had much better let him go to it alone,--when he told them
+that it was always very rowdy, and that ladies were not supposed to be
+there--oh, why had they not guessed and clung to him, and kept him away
+from the river?
+
+Well, here they were, walking on Harold’s either side, blind to fate,
+and only longing to look back at the gorgeous personage behind them.
+Aunt Mabel had inwardly calculated that the velvet of the mantle alone
+could not have cost less than four guineas a yard. One good look back,
+and she would be able to calculate how many yards there were... She
+followed the example of Lot’s wife; and Jessie followed hers.
+
+“Very well,” said Harold. “That settles it. I go alone.” And he was gone
+like an arrow, across the High, down Oriel Street.
+
+The two women stood staring ruefully at each other.
+
+“Pardon me,” said the Duke, with a sweep of his plumed hat. “I observe
+you are stranded; and, if I read your thoughts aright, you are impugning
+the courtesy of that young runagate. Neither of you, I am very sure, is
+as one of those ladies who in Imperial Rome took a saucy pleasure in the
+spectacle of death. Neither of you can have been warned by your escort
+that you were on the way to see him die, of his own accord, in company
+with many hundreds of other lads, myself included. Therefore, regard his
+flight from you as an act not of unkindness, but of tardy compunction.
+The hint you have had from him let me turn into a counsel. Go back, both
+of you, to the place whence you came.”
+
+“Thank you SO much,” said Aunt Mabel, with what she took to be great
+presence of mind. “MOST kind of you. We’ll do JUST what you tell us.
+Come, Jessie dear,” and she hurried her niece away with her.
+
+Something in her manner of fixing him with her eye had made the Duke
+suspect what was in her mind. Well, she would find out her mistake soon
+enough, poor woman. He desired, however, that her mistake should be made
+by no one else. He would give no more warnings.
+
+Tragic it was for him, in Merton Street, to see among the crowd
+converging to the meadows so many women, young and old, all imprescient,
+troubled by nothing but the thunder that was in the air, that was on the
+brows of their escorts. He knew not whether it was for their escorts or
+for them that he felt the greater pity; and an added load for his heart
+was the sense of his partial responsibility for what impended. But
+his lips were sealed now. Why should he not enjoy the effect he was
+creating?
+
+It was with a measured tread, as yesterday with Zuleika, that he entered
+the avenue of elms. The throng streamed past from behind him, parting
+wide, and marvelling as it streamed. Under the pall of this evil evening
+his splendour was the more inspiring. And, just as yesterday no man had
+questioned his right to be with Zuleika, so to-day there was none to
+deem him caparisoned too much. All the men felt at a glance that
+he, coming to meet death thus, did no more than the right homage to
+Zuleika--aye, and that he made them all partakers in his own glory,
+casting his great mantle over all commorients. Reverence forbade them to
+do more than glance. But the women with them were impelled by wonder to
+stare hard, uttering sharp little cries that mingled with the cawing of
+the rooks overhead. Thus did scores of men find themselves shamed like
+our friend Harold. But this, you say, was no more than a just return for
+their behaviour yesterday, when, in this very avenue, so many women were
+almost crushed to death by them in their insensate eagerness to see Miss
+Dobson.
+
+To-day by scores of women it was calculated not only that the velvet of
+the Duke’s mantle could not have cost less than four guineas a yard, but
+also that there must be quite twenty-five yards of it. Some of the fair
+mathematicians had, in the course of the past fortnight, visited the
+Royal Academy and seen there Mr. Sargent’s portrait of the wearer, so
+that their estimate now was but the endorsement of an estimate already
+made. Yet their impression of the Duke was above all a spiritual one.
+The nobility of his face and bearing was what most thrilled them as they
+went by; and those of them who had heard the rumour that he was in love
+with that frightfully flashy-looking creature, Zuleika Dobson, were more
+than ever sure there wasn’t a word of truth in it.
+
+As he neared the end of the avenue, the Duke was conscious of a thinning
+in the procession on either side of him, and anon he was aware that not
+one undergraduate was therein. And he knew at once--did not need to look
+back to know--why this was. SHE was coming.
+
+Yes, she had come into the avenue, her magnetism speeding before her,
+insomuch that all along the way the men immediately ahead of her looked
+round, beheld her, stood aside for her. With her walked The MacQuern,
+and a little bodyguard of other blest acquaintances; and behind her
+swayed the dense mass of the disorganised procession. And now the last
+rank between her and the Duke was broken, and at the revealed vision
+of him she faltered midway in some raillery she was addressing to The
+MacQuern. Her eyes were fixed, her lips were parted, her tread had
+become stealthy. With a brusque gesture of dismissal to the men beside
+her, she darted forward, and lightly overtook the Duke just as he was
+turning towards the barges.
+
+“May I?” she whispered, smiling round into his face.
+
+His shoulder-knots just perceptibly rose.
+
+“There isn’t a policeman in sight, John. You’re at my mercy. No, no;
+I’m at yours. Tolerate me. You really do look quite wonderful. There, I
+won’t be so impertinent as to praise you. Only let me be with you. Will
+you?”
+
+The shoulder-knots repeated their answer.
+
+“You needn’t listen to me; needn’t look at me--unless you care to use my
+eyes as mirrors. Only let me be seen with you. That’s what I want. Not
+that your society isn’t a boon in itself, John. Oh, I’ve been so bored
+since I left you. The MacQuern is too, too dull, and so are his friends.
+Oh, that meal with them in Balliol! As soon as I grew used to the
+thought that they were going to die for me, I simply couldn’t stand
+them. Poor boys! it was as much as I could do not to tell them I wished
+them dead already. Indeed, when they brought me down for the first
+races, I did suggest that they might as well die now as later. Only they
+looked very solemn and said it couldn’t possibly be done till after the
+final races. And oh, the tea with them! What have YOU been doing all the
+afternoon? Oh John, after THEM, I could almost love you again. Why can’t
+one fall in love with a man’s clothes? To think that all those splendid
+things you have on are going to be spoilt--all for me. Nominally for
+me, that is. It is very wonderful, John. I do appreciate it, really and
+truly, though I know you think I don’t. John, if it weren’t mere spite
+you feel for me--but it’s no good talking about that. Come, let us be as
+cheerful as we may be. Is this the Judas house-boat?”
+
+“The Judas barge,” said the Duke, irritated by a mistake which but
+yesterday had rather charmed him.
+
+As he followed his companion across the plank, there came dully from the
+hills the first low growl of the pent storm. The sound struck for him a
+strange contrast with the prattle he had perforce been listening to.
+
+“Thunder,” said Zuleika over her shoulder.
+
+“Evidently,” he answered.
+
+Half-way up the stairs to the roof, she looked round. “Aren’t you
+coming?” she asked.
+
+He shook his head, and pointed to the raft in front of the barge. She
+quickly descended.
+
+“Forgive me,” he said, “my gesture was not a summons. The raft is for
+men.”
+
+“What do you want to do on it?”
+
+“To wait there till the races are over.”
+
+“But--what do you mean? Aren’t you coming up on to the roof at all?
+Yesterday--”
+
+“Oh, I see,” said the Duke, unable to repress a smile. “But to-day I am
+not dressed for a flying-leap.”
+
+Zuleika put a finger to her lips. “Don’t talk so loud. Those women up
+there will hear you. No one must ever know I knew what was going to
+happen. What evidence should I have that I tried to prevent it? Only my
+own unsupported word--and the world is always against a woman. So do be
+careful. I’ve thought it all out. The whole thing must be SPRUNG on me.
+Don’t look so horribly cynical... What was I saying? Oh yes; well, it
+doesn’t really matter. I had it fixed in my mind that you--but no, of
+course, in that mantle you couldn’t. But why not come up on the roof
+with me meanwhile, and then afterwards make some excuse and--” The rest
+of her whisper was lost in another growl of thunder.
+
+“I would rather make my excuses forthwith,” said the Duke. “And, as the
+races must be almost due now, I advise you to go straight up and secure
+a place against the railing.”
+
+“It will look very odd, my going all alone into a crowd of people whom I
+don’t know. I’m an unmarried girl. I do think you might--”
+
+“Good-bye,” said the Duke.
+
+Again Zuleika raised a warning finger.
+
+“Good-bye, John,” she whispered. “See, I am still wearing your studs.
+Good-bye. Don’t forget to call my name in a loud voice. You promised.”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“And,” she added, after a pause, “remember this. I have loved but twice
+in my life; and none but you have I loved. This, too: if you hadn’t
+forced me to kill my love, I would have died with you. And you know it
+is true.”
+
+“Yes.” It was true enough.
+
+Courteously he watched her up the stairs.
+
+As she reached the roof, she cried down to him from the throng, “Then
+you will wait down there to take me home afterwards?”
+
+He bowed silently.
+
+The raft was even more crowded than yesterday, but way was made for him
+by Judasians past and present. He took his place in the centre of the
+front row.
+
+At his feet flowed the fateful river. From the various barges the last
+punt-loads had been ferried across to the towing-path, and the last
+of the men who were to follow the boats in their course had vanished
+towards the starting-point. There remained, however, a fringe of lesser
+enthusiasts. Their figures stood outlined sharply in that strange dark
+clearness which immediately precedes a storm.
+
+The thunder rumbled around the hills, and now and again there was a
+faint glare on the horizon.
+
+Would Judas bump Magdalen? Opinion on the raft seemed to be divided. But
+the sanguine spirits were in a majority.
+
+“If I were making a book on the event,” said a middle-aged clergyman,
+with that air of breezy emancipation which is so distressing to the
+laity, “I’d bet two to one we bump.”
+
+“You demean your cloth, sir,” the Duke would have said, “without
+cheating its disabilities,” had not his mouth been stopped by a loud and
+prolonged thunder-clap.
+
+In the hush thereafter, came the puny sound of a gunshot. The boats were
+starting. Would Judas bump Magdalen? Would Judas be head of the river?
+
+Strange, thought the Duke, that for him, standing as he did on the peak
+of dandyism, on the brink of eternity, this trivial question of boats
+could have importance. And yet, and yet, for this it was that his heart
+was beating. A few minutes hence, an end to victors and vanquished
+alike; and yet...
+
+A sudden white vertical streak slid down the sky. Then there was
+a consonance to split the drums of the world’s ears, followed by
+a horrific rattling as of actual artillery--tens of thousands of
+gun-carriages simultaneously at the gallop, colliding, crashing, heeling
+over in the blackness.
+
+Then, and yet more awful, silence; the little earth cowering voiceless
+under the heavens’ menace. And, audible in the hush now, a faint sound;
+the sound of the runners on the towing-path cheering the crews forward,
+forward.
+
+And there was another faint sound that came to the Duke’s ears. It he
+understood when, a moment later, he saw the surface of the river alive
+with infinitesimal fountains.
+
+Rain!
+
+His very mantle was aspersed. In another minute he would stand sodden,
+inglorious, a mock. He didn’t hesitate.
+
+“Zuleika!” he cried in a loud voice. Then he took a deep breath, and,
+burying his face in his mantle, plunged.
+
+Full on the river lay the mantle outspread. Then it, too, went under. A
+great roll of water marked the spot. The plumed hat floated.
+
+There was a confusion of shouts from the raft, of screams from the roof.
+Many youths--all the youths there--cried “Zuleika!” and leapt emulously
+headlong into the water. “Brave fellows!” shouted the elder men,
+supposing rescue-work. The rain pelted, the thunder pealed. Here and
+there was a glimpse of a young head above water--for an instant only.
+
+Shouts and screams now from the infected barges on either side. A score
+of fresh plunges. “Splendid fellows!”
+
+Meanwhile, what of the Duke? I am glad to say that he was alive and (but
+for the cold he had caught last night) well. Indeed, his mind had never
+worked more clearly than in this swift dim underworld. His mantle, the
+cords of it having come untied, had drifted off him, leaving his arms
+free. With breath well-pent, he steadily swam, scarcely less amused than
+annoyed that the gods had, after all, dictated the exact time at which
+he should seek death.
+
+I am loth to interrupt my narrative at this rather exciting moment--a
+moment when the quick, tense style, exemplified in the last paragraph
+but one, is so very desirable. But in justice to the gods I must pause
+to put in a word of excuse for them. They had imagined that it was
+in mere irony that the Duke had said he could not die till after the
+bumping-races; and not until it seemed that he stood ready to make an
+end of himself had the signal been given by Zeus for the rain to fall.
+One is taught to refrain from irony, because mankind does tend to take
+it literally. In the hearing of the gods, who hear all, it is conversely
+unsafe to make a simple and direct statement. So what is one to do? The
+dilemma needs a whole volume to itself.
+
+But to return to the Duke. He had now been under water for a full
+minute, swimming down stream; and he calculated that he had yet another
+full minute of consciousness. Already the whole of his past life
+had vividly presented itself to him--myriads of tiny incidents, long
+forgotten, now standing out sharply in their due sequence. He had
+mastered this conspectus in a flash of time, and was already tired of
+it. How smooth and yielding were the weeds against his face! He wondered
+if Mrs. Batch had been in time to cash the cheque. If not, of course his
+executors would pay the amount, but there would be delays, long delays,
+Mrs. Batch in meshes of red tape. Red tape for her, green weeds for
+him--he smiled at this poor conceit, classifying it as a fair sample of
+merman’s wit. He swam on through the quiet cool darkness, less quickly
+now. Not many more strokes now, he told himself; a few, only a few; then
+sleep. How was he come here? Some woman had sent him. Ever so many years
+ago, some woman. He forgave her. There was nothing to forgive her. It
+was the gods who had sent him--too soon, too soon. He let his arms rise
+in the water, and he floated up. There was air in that over-world, and
+something he needed to know there before he came down again to sleep.
+
+He gasped the air into his lungs, and he remembered what it was that he
+needed to know.
+
+Had he risen in mid-stream, the keel of the Magdalen boat might have
+killed him. The oars of Magdalen did all but graze his face. The eyes of
+the Magdalen cox met his. The cords of the Magdalen rudder slipped from
+the hands that held them; whereupon the Magdalen man who rowed “bow”
+ missed his stroke.
+
+An instant later, just where the line of barges begins, Judas had bumped
+Magdalen.
+
+A crash of thunder deadened the din of the stamping and dancing crowd on
+the towing-path. The rain was a deluge making land and water as one.
+
+And the conquered crew, and the conquering, both now had seen the face
+of the Duke. A white smiling face, anon it was gone. Dorset was gone
+down to his last sleep.
+
+Victory and defeat alike forgotten, the crews staggered erect and flung
+themselves into the river, the slender boats capsizing and spinning
+futile around in a melley of oars.
+
+From the towing-path--no more din there now, but great single cries
+of “Zuleika!”--leapt figures innumerable through rain to river. The
+arrested boats of the other crews drifted zigzag hither and thither. The
+dropped oars rocked and clashed, sank and rebounded, as the men plunged
+across them into the swirling stream.
+
+And over all this confusion and concussion of men and man-made things
+crashed the vaster discords of the heavens; and the waters of the
+heavens fell ever denser and denser, as though to the aid of waters that
+could not in themselves envelop so many hundreds of struggling human
+forms.
+
+All along the soaked towing-path lay strewn the horns, the rattles, the
+motor-hooters, that the youths had flung aside before they leapt. Here
+and there among these relics stood dazed elder men, staring through the
+storm. There was one of them--a grey-beard--who stripped off his blazer,
+plunged, grabbed at some live man, grappled him, was dragged under. He
+came up again further along stream, swam choking to the bank, clung to
+the grasses. He whimpered as he sought foot-hold in the slime. It was
+ill to be down in that abominable sink of death.
+
+Abominable, yes, to them who discerned there death only; but sacramental
+and sweet enough to the men who were dying there for love. Any face that
+rose was smiling.
+
+The thunder receded; the rain was less vehement: the boats and the oars
+had drifted against the banks. And always the patient river bore its
+awful burden towards Iffley.
+
+As on the towing-path, so on the youth-bereft rafts of the barges,
+yonder, stood many stupefied elders, staring at the river, staring back
+from the river into one another’s faces.
+
+Dispeopled now were the roofs of the barges. Under the first drops of
+the rain most of the women had come huddling down for shelter inside;
+panic had presently driven down the rest. Yet on one roof one woman
+still was. A strange, drenched figure, she stood bright-eyed in the
+dimness; alone, as it was well she should be in her great hour; draining
+the lees of such homage as had come to no woman in history recorded.
+
+
+
+
+XX
+
+Artistically, there is a good deal to be said for that old Greek friend
+of ours, the Messenger; and I dare say you blame me for having, as it
+were, made you an eye-witness of the death of the undergraduates, when
+I might so easily have brought some one in to tell you about it after
+it was all over... Some one? Whom? Are you not begging the question?
+I admit there were, that evening in Oxford, many people who, when they
+went home from the river, gave vivid reports of what they had seen. But
+among them was none who had seen more than a small portion of the whole
+affair. Certainly, I might have pieced together a dozen of the various
+accounts, and put them all into the mouth of one person. But credibility
+is not enough for Clio’s servant. I aim at truth. And so, as I by my
+Zeus-given incorporeity was the one person who had a good view of the
+scene at large, you must pardon me for having withheld the veil of
+indirect narration.
+
+“Too late,” you will say if I offer you a Messenger now. But it was not
+thus that Mrs. Batch and Katie greeted Clarence when, lamentably soaked
+with rain, that Messenger appeared on the threshold of the kitchen.
+Katie was laying the table-cloth for seven o’clock supper. Neither she
+nor her mother was clairvoyante. Neither of them knew what had been
+happening. But, as Clarence had not come home since afternoon-school,
+they had assumed that he was at the river; and they now assumed from the
+look of him that something very unusual had been happening there. As to
+what this was, they were not quickly enlightened. Our old Greek friend,
+after a run of twenty miles, would always reel off a round hundred of
+graphic verses unimpeachable in scansion. Clarence was of degenerate
+mould. He collapsed on to a chair, and sat there gasping; and his
+recovery was rather delayed than hastened by his mother, who, in her
+solicitude, patted him vigorously between the shoulders.
+
+“Let him alone, mother, do,” cried Katie, wringing her hands.
+
+“The Duke, he’s drowned himself,” presently gasped the Messenger.
+
+Blank verse, yes, so far as it went; but delivered without the slightest
+regard for rhythm, and composed in stark defiance of those laws which
+should regulate the breaking of bad news. You, please remember, were
+carefully prepared by me against the shock of the Duke’s death; and yet
+I hear you still mumbling that I didn’t let the actual fact be told you
+by a Messenger. Come, do you really think your grievance against me
+is for a moment comparable with that of Mrs. and Miss Batch against
+Clarence? Did you feel faint at any moment in the foregoing chapter? No.
+But Katie, at Clarence’s first words, fainted outright. Think a little
+more about this poor girl senseless on the floor, and a little less
+about your own paltry discomfort.
+
+Mrs. Batch herself did not faint, but she was too much overwhelmed to
+notice that her daughter had done so.
+
+“No! Mercy on us! Speak, boy, can’t you?”
+
+“The river,” gasped Clarence. “Threw himself in. On purpose. I was on
+the towing-path. Saw him do it.”
+
+Mrs. Batch gave a low moan.
+
+“Katie’s fainted,” added the Messenger, not without a touch of personal
+pride.
+
+“Saw him do it,” Mrs. Batch repeated dully. “Katie,” she said, in the
+same voice, “get up this instant.” But Katie did not hear her.
+
+The mother was loth to have been outdone in sensibility by the daughter,
+and it was with some temper that she hastened to make the necessary
+ministrations.
+
+“Where am I?” asked Katie, at length, echoing the words used in this
+very house, at a similar juncture, on this very day, by another lover of
+the Duke.
+
+“Ah, you may well ask that,” said Mrs. Batch, with more force than
+reason. “A mother’s support indeed! Well! And as for you,” she cried,
+turning on Clarence, “sending her off like that with your--” She
+was face to face again with the tragic news. Katie, remembering it
+simultaneously, uttered a loud sob. Mrs. Batch capped this with a much
+louder one. Clarence stood before the fire, slowly revolving on one
+heel. His clothes steamed briskly.
+
+“It isn’t true,” said Katie. She rose and came uncertainly towards her
+brother, half threatening, half imploring.
+
+“All right,” said he, strong in his advantage. “Then I shan’t tell
+either of you anything more.”
+
+Mrs. Batch through her tears called Katie a bad girl, and Clarence a bad
+boy.
+
+“Where did you get THEM?” asked Clarence, pointing to the ear-rings worn
+by his sister.
+
+“HE gave me them,” said Katie. Clarence curbed the brotherly intention
+of telling her she looked “a sight” in them.
+
+She stood staring into vacancy. “He didn’t love HER,” she murmured.
+“That was all over. I’ll vow he didn’t love HER.”
+
+“Who d’you mean by her?” asked Clarence.
+
+“That Miss Dobson that’s been here.”
+
+“What’s her other name?”
+
+“Zuleika,” Katie enunciated with bitterest abhorrence.
+
+“Well, then, he jolly well did love her. That’s the name he called out
+just before he threw himself in. ‘Zuleika!’--like that,” added the boy,
+with a most infelicitous attempt to reproduce the Duke’s manner.
+
+Katie had shut her eyes, and clenched her hands.
+
+“He hated her. He told me so,” she said.
+
+“I was always a mother to him,” sobbed Mrs. Batch, rocking to and fro on
+a chair in a corner. “Why didn’t he come to me in his trouble?”
+
+“He kissed me,” said Katie, as in a trance. “No other man shall ever do
+that.”
+
+“He did?” exclaimed Clarence. “And you let him?”
+
+“You wretched little whipper-snapper!” flashed Katie.
+
+“Oh, I am, am I?” shouted Clarence, squaring up to his sister. “Say that
+again, will you?”
+
+There is no doubt that Katie would have said it again, had not her
+mother closed the scene with a prolonged wail of censure.
+
+“You ought to be thinking of ME, you wicked girl,” said Mrs. Batch.
+Katie went across, and laid a gentle hand on her mother’s shoulder.
+This, however, did but evoke a fresh flood of tears. Mrs. Batch had a
+keen sense of the deportment owed to tragedy. Katie, by bickering with
+Clarence, had thrown away the advantage she had gained by fainting. Mrs.
+Batch was not going to let her retrieve it by shining as a consoler.
+I hasten to add that this resolve was only sub-conscious in the good
+woman. Her grief was perfectly sincere. And it was not the less so
+because with it was mingled a certain joy in the greatness of the
+calamity. She came of good sound peasant stock. Abiding in her was the
+spirit of those old songs and ballads in which daisies and daffodillies
+and lovers’ vows and smiles are so strangely inwoven with tombs and
+ghosts, with murders and all manner of grim things. She had not had
+education enough to spoil her nerve. She was able to take the rough with
+the smooth. She was able to take all life for her province, and death
+too.
+
+The Duke was dead. This was the stupendous outline she had grasped: now
+let it be filled in. She had been stricken: now let her be racked. Soon
+after her daughter had moved away, Mrs. Batch dried her eyes, and bade
+Clarence tell just what had happened. She did not flinch. Modern Katie
+did.
+
+Such had ever been the Duke’s magic in the household that Clarence
+had at first forgotten to mention that any one else was dead. Of
+this omission he was glad. It promised him a new lease of importance.
+Meanwhile, he described in greater detail the Duke’s plunge. Mrs.
+Batch’s mind, while she listened, ran ahead, dog-like, into the
+immediate future, ranging around: “the family” would all be here
+to-morrow, the Duke’s own room must be “put straight” to-night, “I was
+of speaking”...
+
+Katie’s mind harked back to the immediate past--to the tone of that
+voice, to that hand which she had kissed, to the touch of those lips on
+her brow, to the door-step she had made so white for him, day by day...
+
+The sound of the rain had long ceased. There was the noise of a
+gathering wind.
+
+“Then in went a lot of others,” Clarence was saying. “And they all
+shouted out ‘Zuleika!’ just like he did. Then a lot more went in.
+First I thought it was some sort of fun. Not it!” And he told how,
+by inquiries further down the river, he had learned the extent of the
+disaster. “Hundreds and hundreds of them--ALL of them,” he summed up.
+“And all for the love of HER,” he added, as with a sulky salute to
+Romance.
+
+Mrs. Batch had risen from her chair, the better to cope with such
+magnitude. She stood with wide-spread arms, silent, gaping. She seemed,
+by sheer force of sympathy, to be expanding to the dimensions of a
+crowd.
+
+Intensive Katie recked little of all these other deaths. “I only know,”
+ she said, “that he hated her.”
+
+“Hundreds and hundreds--ALL,” intoned Mrs. Batch, then gave a sudden
+start, as having remembered something. Mr. Noaks! He, too! She staggered
+to the door, leaving her actual offspring to their own devices, and went
+heavily up the stairs, her mind scampering again before her.... If he
+was safe and sound, dear young gentleman, heaven be praised! and she
+would break the awful news to him, very gradually. If not, there was
+another “family” to be solaced; “I’m a mother myself, Mrs. Noaks”...
+
+The sitting-room door was closed. Twice did Mrs. Batch tap on the panel,
+receiving no answer. She went in, gazed around in the dimness, sighed
+deeply, and struck a match. Conspicuous on the table lay a piece of
+paper. She bent to examine it. A piece of lined paper, torn from an
+exercise book, it was neatly inscribed with the words “What is Life
+without Love?” The final word and the note of interrogation were
+somewhat blurred, as by a tear. The match had burnt itself out. The
+landlady lit another, and read the legend a second time, that she might
+take in the full pathos of it. Then she sat down in the arm-chair. For
+some minutes she wept there. Then, having no more, tears, she went out
+on tip-toe, closing the door very quietly.
+
+As she descended the last flight of stairs, her daughter had just shut
+the front-door, and was coming along the hall.
+
+“Poor Mr. Noaks--he’s gone,” said the mother.
+
+“Has he?” said Katie listlessly.
+
+“Yes he has, you heartless girl. What’s that you’ve got in your hand?
+Why, if it isn’t the black-leading! And what have you been doing with
+that?”
+
+“Let me alone, mother, do,” said poor Katie. She had done her lowly
+task. She had expressed her mourning, as best she could, there where she
+had been wont to express her love.
+
+
+
+
+XXI
+
+And Zuleika? She had done a wise thing, and was where it was best that
+she should be.
+
+Her face lay upturned on the water’s surface, and round it were the
+masses of her dark hair, half floating, half submerged. Her eyes were
+closed, and her lips were parted. Not Ophelia in the brook could have
+seemed more at peace.
+
+          “Like a creature native and indued
+     Unto that element,”
+ tranquil Zuleika lay.
+
+Gently to and fro her tresses drifted on the water, or under the water
+went ever ravelling and unravelling. Nothing else of her stirred.
+
+What to her now the loves that she had inspired and played on? the lives
+lost for her? Little thought had she now of them. Aloof she lay.
+
+Steadily rising from the water was a thick vapour that turned to dew on
+the window-pane. The air was heavy with scent of violets. These are the
+flowers of mourning; but their scent here and now signified nothing; for
+Eau de Violettes was the bath-essence that Zuleika always had.
+
+The bath-room was not of the white-gleaming kind to which she was
+accustomed. The walls were papered, not tiled, and the bath itself was
+of japanned tin, framed in mahogany. These things, on the evening of
+her arrival at the Warden’s, had rather distressed her. But she was the
+better able to bear them because of that well-remembered past when a
+bath-room was in itself a luxury pined for--days when a not-large and
+not-full can of not-hot water, slammed down at her bedroom door by a
+governess-resenting housemaid, was as much as the gods allowed her. And
+there was, to dulcify for her the bath of this evening, the yet sharper
+contrast with the plight she had just come home in, sopped, shivering,
+clung to by her clothes. Because this bath was not a mere luxury, but a
+necessary precaution, a sure means of salvation from chill, she did the
+more gratefully bask in it, till Melisande came back to her, laden with
+warmed towels.
+
+A few minutes before eight o’clock she was fully ready to go down to
+dinner, with even more than the usual glow of health, and hungry beyond
+her wont.
+
+Yet, as she went down, her heart somewhat misgave her. Indeed, by force
+of the wide experience she had had as a governess, she never did feel
+quite at her ease when she was staying in a private house: the fear of
+not giving satisfaction haunted her; she was always on her guard; the
+shadow of dismissal absurdly hovered. And to-night she could not tell
+herself, as she usually did, not to be so silly. If her grandfather knew
+already the motive by which those young men had been actuated, dinner
+with him might be a rather strained affair. He might tell her, in so
+many words, that he wished he had not invited her to Oxford.
+
+Through the open door of the drawing room she saw him, standing
+majestic, draped in a voluminous black gown. Her instinct was to run
+away; but this she conquered. She went straight in, remembering not to
+smile.
+
+“Ah, ah,” said the Warden, shaking a forefinger at her with old-world
+playfulness. “And what have you to say for yourself?”
+
+Relieved, she was also a trifle shocked. Was it possible that he, a
+responsible old man, could take things so lightly?
+
+“Oh, grand-papa,” she answered, hanging her head, “what CAN I say? It
+is--it is too, too, dreadful.”
+
+“There, there, my dear. I was but jesting. If you have had an agreeable
+time, you are forgiven for playing truant. Where have you been all day?”
+
+She saw that she had misjudged him. “I have just come from the river,”
+ she said gravely.
+
+“Yes? And did the College make its fourth bump to-night?”
+
+“I--I don’t know, grand-papa. There was so much happening. It--I will
+tell you all about it at dinner.”
+
+“Ah, but to-night,” he said, indicating his gown, “I cannot be with you.
+The bump-supper, you know. I have to preside in Hall.”
+
+Zuleika had forgotten there was to be a bump-supper, and, though she
+was not very sure what a bump-supper was, she felt it would be a mockery
+to-night.
+
+“But grand-papa--” she began.
+
+“My dear, I cannot dissociate myself from the life of the College. And,
+alas,” he said, looking at the clock, “I must leave you now. As soon as
+you have finished dinner, you might, if you would care to, come and peep
+down at us from the gallery. There is apt to be some measure of
+noise and racket, but all of it good-humoured and--boys will be
+boys--pardonable. Will you come?”
+
+“Perhaps, grand-papa,” she said awkwardly. Left alone, she hardly knew
+whether to laugh or cry. In a moment, the butler came to her rescue,
+telling her that dinner was served.
+
+As the figure of the Warden emerged from Salt Cellar into the Front
+Quadrangle, a hush fell on the group of gowned Fellows outside the Hall.
+Most of them had only just been told the news, and (such is the force
+of routine in an University) were still sceptical of it. And in face of
+these doubts the three or four dons who had been down at the river were
+now half ready to believe that there must, after all, be some mistake,
+and that in this world of illusions they had to-night been specially
+tricked. To rebut this theory, there was the notable absence of
+undergraduates. Or was this an illusion, too? Men of thought, agile on
+the plane of ideas, devils of fellows among books, they groped feebly
+in this matter of actual life and death. The sight of their Warden
+heartened them. After all, he was the responsible person. He was father
+of the flock that had strayed, and grandfather of the beautiful Miss
+Zuleika.
+
+Like her, they remembered not to smile in greeting him.
+
+“Good evening, gentlemen,” he said. “The storm seems to have passed.”
+
+There was a murmur of “Yes, Warden.”
+
+“And how did our boat acquit itself?”
+
+There was a shuffling pause. Every one looked at the Sub-Warden: it was
+manifestly for him to break the news, or to report the hallucination. He
+was nudged forward--a large man, with a large beard at which he plucked
+nervously.
+
+“Well, really, Warden,” he said, “we--we hardly know,” * and he ended
+with what can only be described as a giggle. He fell low in the esteem
+of his fellows.
+
+
+   *Those of my readers who are interested in athletic sports will
+    remember the long controversy that raged as to whether Judas had
+    actually bumped Magdalen; and they will not need to be minded that
+    it was mainly through the evidence of Mr. E. T. A. Cook, who had
+    been on the towing-path at the time, that the O. U. B. C. decided
+    the point in Judas’ favour, and fixed the order of the boats for
+    the following year accordingly.
+
+
+Thinking of that past Sub-Warden whose fame was linked with the
+sun-dial, the Warden eyed this one keenly.
+
+“Well, gentlemen,” he presently said, “our young men seem to be already
+at table. Shall we follow their example?” And he led the way up the
+steps.
+
+Already at table? The dons’ dubiety toyed with this hypothesis. But the
+aspect of the Hall’s interior was hard to explain away. Here were the
+three long tables, stretching white towards the dais, and laden with the
+usual crockery and cutlery, and with pots of flowers in honour of the
+occasion. And here, ranged along either wall, was the usual array of
+scouts, motionless, with napkins across their arms. But that was all.
+
+It became clear to the Warden that some organised prank or protest was
+afoot. Dignity required that he should take no heed whatsoever. Looking
+neither to the right nor to the left, stately he approached the dais,
+his Fellows to heel.
+
+In Judas, as in other Colleges, grace before meat is read by the Senior
+Scholar. The Judas grace (composed, they say, by Christopher Whitrid
+himself) is noted for its length and for the excellence of its Latinity.
+Who was to read it to-night? The Warden, having searched his mind vainly
+for a precedent, was driven to create one.
+
+“The Junior Fellow,” he said, “will read grace.”
+
+Blushing to the roots of his hair, and with crablike gait, Mr. Pedby,
+the Junior Fellow, went and unhooked from the wall that little shield
+of wood on which the words of the grace are carven. Mr. Pedby was--Mr.
+Pedby is--a mathematician. His treatise on the Higher Theory of Short
+Division by Decimals had already won for him an European reputation.
+Judas was--Judas is--proud of Pedby. Nor is it denied that in
+undertaking the duty thrust on him he quickly controlled his nerves and
+read the Latin out in ringing accents. Better for him had he not done
+so. The false quantities he made were so excruciating and so many that,
+while the very scouts exchanged glances, the dons at the high table lost
+all command of their features, and made horrible noises in the effort to
+contain themselves. The very Warden dared not look from his plate.
+
+In every breast around the high table, behind every shirt-front or
+black silk waistcoat, glowed the recognition of a new birth. Suddenly,
+unheralded, a thing of highest destiny had fallen into their academic
+midst. The stock of Common Room talk had to-night been re-inforced and
+enriched for all time. Summers and winters would come and go, old faces
+would vanish, giving place to new, but the story of Pedby’s grace would
+be told always. Here was a tradition that generations of dons yet unborn
+would cherish and chuckle over. Something akin to awe mingled itself
+with the subsiding merriment. And the dons, having finished their soup,
+sipped in silence the dry brown sherry.
+
+Those who sat opposite to the Warden, with their backs to the void,
+were oblivious of the matter that had so recently teased them. They
+were conscious only of an agreeable hush, in which they peered down
+the vistas of the future, watching the tradition of Pedby’s grace as it
+rolled brighter and ever brighter down to eternity.
+
+The pop of a champagne cork startled them to remembrance that this was a
+bump-supper, and a bump-supper of a peculiar kind. The turbot that
+came after the soup, the champagne that succeeded the sherry, helped to
+quicken in these men of thought the power to grapple with a reality. The
+aforesaid three or four who had been down at the river recovered their
+lost belief in the evidence of their eyes and ears. In the rest was a
+spirit of receptivity which, as the meal went on, mounted to conviction.
+The Sub-Warden made a second and more determined attempt to enlighten
+the Warden; but the Warden’s eye met his with a suspicion so cruelly
+pointed that he again floundered and gave in.
+
+All adown those empty other tables gleamed the undisturbed cutlery, and
+the flowers in the pots innocently bloomed. And all adown either wall,
+unneeded but undisbanded, the scouts remained. Some of the elder ones
+stood with closed eyes and heads sunk forward, now and again jerking
+themselves erect, and blinking around, wondering, remembering.
+
+And for a while this scene was looked down on by a not disinterested
+stranger. For a while, her chin propped on her hands, Zuleika leaned
+over the rail of the gallery, just as she had lately leaned over the
+barge’s rail, staring down and along. But there was no spark of triumph
+now in her eyes; only a deep melancholy; and in her mouth a taste as of
+dust and ashes. She thought of last night, and of all the buoyant life
+that this Hall had held. Of the Duke she thought, and of the whole vivid
+and eager throng of his fellows in love. Her will, their will, had been
+done. But, there rose to her lips the old, old question that withers
+victory--“To what end?” Her eyes ranged along the tables, and an
+appalling sense of loneliness swept over her. She turned away, wrapping
+the folds of her cloak closer across her breast. Not in this College
+only, but through and through Oxford, there was no heart that beat for
+her--no, not one, she told herself, with that instinct for self-torture
+which comes to souls in torment. She was utterly alone to-night in the
+midst of a vast indifference. She! She! Was it possible? Were the gods
+so merciless? Ah no, surely...
+
+Down at the high table the feast drew to its close, and very different
+was the mood of the feasters from that of the young woman whose glance
+had for a moment rested on their unromantic heads. Generations of
+undergraduates had said that Oxford would be all very well but for the
+dons. Do you suppose that the dons had had no answering sentiment? Youth
+is a very good thing to possess, no doubt; but it is a tiresome setting
+for maturity. Youth all around prancing, vociferating, mocking; callow
+and alien youth, having to be looked after and studied and taught,
+as though nothing but it mattered, term after term--and now, all of a
+sudden, in mid-term, peace, ataraxy, a profound and leisured stillness.
+No lectures to deliver to-morrow; no “essays” to hear and criticise;
+time for the unvexed pursuit of pure learning...
+
+As the Fellows passed out on their way to Common Room, there to tackle
+with a fresh appetite Pedby’s grace, they paused, as was their wont, on
+the steps of the Hall, looking up at the sky, envisaging the weather.
+The wind had dropped. There was even a glimpse of the moon riding behind
+the clouds. And now, a solemn and plangent token of Oxford’s perpetuity,
+the first stroke of Great Tom sounded.
+
+
+
+
+XXII
+
+Stroke by stroke, the great familiar monody of that incomparable curfew
+rose and fell in the stillness.
+
+Nothing of Oxford lingers more surely than it in the memory of Oxford
+men; and to one revisiting these groves nothing is more eloquent of that
+scrupulous historic economy whereby his own particular past is utilised
+as the general present and future. “All’s as it was, all’s as it will
+be,” says Great Tom; and that is what he stubbornly said on the evening
+I here record.
+
+Stroke by measured and leisured stroke, the old euphonious clangour
+pervaded Oxford, spreading out over the meadows, along the river,
+audible in Iffley. But to the dim groups gathering and dispersing on
+either bank, and to the silent workers in the boats, the bell’s message
+came softened, equivocal; came as a requiem for these dead.
+
+Over the closed gates of Iffley lock, the water gushed down, eager for
+the sacrament of the sea. Among the supine in the field hard by, there
+was one whose breast bore a faint-gleaming star. And bending over him,
+looking down at him with much love and pity in her eyes, was the shade
+of Nellie O’Mora, that “fairest witch,” to whose memory he had to-day
+atoned.
+
+And yonder, “sitting upon the river-bank o’ergrown,” with questioning
+eyes, was another shade, more habituated to these haunts--the shade
+known so well to bathers “in the abandoned lasher,” and to dancers
+“around the Fyfield elm in May.” At the bell’s final stroke, the Scholar
+Gipsy rose, letting fall on the water his gathered wild-flowers, and
+passed towards Cumnor.
+
+And now, duly, throughout Oxford, the gates of the Colleges were closed,
+and closed were the doors of the lodging-houses. Every night, for many
+years, at this hour precisely, Mrs. Batch had come out from her kitchen,
+to turn the key in the front-door. The function had long ago become
+automatic. To-night, however, it was the cue for further tears. These
+did not cease at her return to the kitchen, where she had gathered
+about her some sympathetic neighbours--women of her own age and
+kind, capacious of tragedy; women who might be relied on; founts of
+ejaculation, wells of surmise, downpours of remembered premonitions.
+
+With his elbows on the kitchen table, and his knuckles to his brow, sat
+Clarence, intent on belated “prep.” Even an eye-witness of disaster may
+pall if he repeat his story too often. Clarence had noted in the last
+recital that he was losing his hold on his audience. So now he sat
+committing to memory the names of the cantons of Switzerland, and waving
+aside with a harsh gesture such questions as were still put to him by
+the women.
+
+Katie had sought refuge in the need for “putting the gentlemen’s rooms
+straight,” against the arrival of the two families to-morrow. Duster
+in hand, and by the light of a single candle that barely survived the
+draught from the open window, she moved to and fro about the Duke’s
+room, a wan and listless figure, casting queerest shadows on the
+ceiling. There were other candles that she might have lit, but this
+ambiguous gloom suited her sullen humour. Yes, I am sorry to say, Katie
+was sullen. She had not ceased to mourn the Duke; but it was even more
+anger than grief that she felt at his dying. She was as sure as ever
+that he had not loved Miss Dobson; but this only made it the more
+outrageous that he had died because of her. What was there in this woman
+that men should so demean themselves for her? Katie, as you know, had at
+first been unaffected by the death of the undergraduates at large. But,
+because they too had died for Zuleika, she was bitterly incensed against
+them now. What could they have admired in such a woman? She didn’t even
+look like a lady. Katie caught the dim reflection of herself in the
+mirror. She took the candle from the table, and examined the reflection
+closely. She was sure she was just as pretty as Miss Dobson. It was only
+the clothes that made the difference--the clothes and the behaviour.
+Katie threw back her head, and smiled brilliantly, hand on hip. She
+nodded reassuringly at herself; and the black pearl and the pink danced
+a duet. She put the candle down, and undid her hair, roughly parting
+it on one side, and letting it sweep down over the further eyebrow. She
+fixed it in that fashion, and posed accordingly. Now! But gradually her
+smile relaxed, and a mist came to her eyes. For she had to admit that
+even so, after all, she hadn’t just that something which somehow Miss
+Dobson had. She put away from her the hasty dream she had had of a whole
+future generation of undergraduates drowning themselves, every one, in
+honour of her. She went wearily on with her work.
+
+Presently, after a last look round, she went up the creaking stairs, to
+do Mr. Noaks’ room.
+
+She found on the table that screed which her mother had recited so often
+this evening. She put it in the waste-paper basket.
+
+Also on the table were a lexicon, a Thucydides, and some note-books.
+These she took and shelved without a tear for the closed labours they
+bore witness to.
+
+The next disorder that met her eye was one that gave her pause--seemed,
+indeed, to transfix her.
+
+Mr. Noaks had never, since he came to lodge here, possessed more than
+one pair of boots. This fact had been for her a lasting source of
+annoyance; for it meant that she had to polish Mr. Noaks’ boots always
+in the early morning, when there were so many other things to be done,
+instead of choosing her own time. Her annoyance had been all the keener
+because Mr. Noaks’ boots more than made up in size for what they lacked
+in number. Either of them singly took more time and polish than any
+other pair imaginable. She would have recognised them, at a glance,
+anywhere. Even so now, it was at a glance that she recognised the toes
+of them protruding from beneath the window-curtain. She dismissed the
+theory that Mr. Noaks might have gone utterly unshod to the river. She
+scouted the hypothesis that his ghost could be shod thus. By process
+of elimination she arrived at the truth. “Mr. Noaks,” she said quietly,
+“come out of there.”
+
+There was a slight quiver of the curtain; no more. Katie repeated her
+words. There was a pause, then a convulsion of the curtain. Noaks stood
+forth.
+
+Always, in polishing his boots, Katie had found herself thinking of him
+as a man of prodigious stature, well though she knew him to be quite
+tiny. Even so now, at recognition of his boots, she had fixed her eyes
+to meet his, when he should emerge, a full yard too high. With a sharp
+drop she focussed him.
+
+“By what right,” he asked, “do you come prying about my room?”
+
+This was a stroke so unexpected that it left Katie mute. It equally
+surprised Noaks, who had been about to throw himself on his knees and
+implore this girl not to betray him. He was quick, though, to clinch his
+advantage.
+
+“This,” he said, “is the first time I have caught you. Let it be the
+last.”
+
+Was this the little man she had so long despised, and so superciliously
+served? His very smallness gave him an air of concentrated force. She
+remembered having read that all the greatest men in history had been of
+less than the middle height. And--oh, her heart leapt--here was the
+one man who had scorned to die for Miss Dobson. He alone had held out
+against the folly of his fellows. Sole and splendid survivor he stood,
+rock-footed, before her. And impulsively she abased herself, kneeling at
+his feet as at the great double altar of some dark new faith.
+
+“You are great, sir, you are wonderful,” she said, gazing up to him,
+rapt. It was the first time she had ever called him “sir.”
+
+It is easier, as Michelet suggested, for a woman to change her opinion
+of a man than for him to change his opinion of himself. Noaks, despite
+the presence of mind he had shown a few moments ago, still saw himself
+as he had seen himself during the past hours: that is, as an arrant
+little coward--one who by his fear to die had put himself outside the
+pale of decent manhood. He had meant to escape from the house at dead of
+night and, under an assumed name, work his passage out to Australia--a
+land which had always made strong appeal to his imagination. No one, he
+had reflected, would suppose because his body was not retrieved from
+the water that he had not perished with the rest. And he had looked to
+Australia to make a man of him yet: in Encounter Bay, perhaps, or in the
+Gulf of Carpentaria, he might yet end nobly.
+
+Thus Katie’s behaviour was as much an embarrassment as a relief; and he
+asked her in what way he was great and wonderful.
+
+“Modest, like all heroes!” she cried, and, still kneeling, proceeded to
+sing his praises with a so infectious fervour that Noaks did begin to
+feel he had done a fine thing in not dying. After all, was it not moral
+cowardice as much as love that had tempted him to die? He had wrestled
+with it, thrown it. “Yes,” said he, when her rhapsody was over, “perhaps
+I am modest.”
+
+“And that is why you hid yourself just now?”
+
+“Yes,” he gladly said. “I hid myself for the same reason,” he added,
+“when I heard your mother’s footstep.”
+
+“But,” she faltered, with a sudden doubt, “that bit of writing which
+Mother found on the table--”
+
+“That? Oh, that was only a general reflection, copied out of a book.”
+
+“Oh, won’t poor Mother be glad when she knows!”
+
+“I don’t want her to know,” said Noaks, with a return of nervousness.
+“You mustn’t tell any one. I--the fact is--”
+
+“Ah, that is so like you!” the girl said tenderly. “I suppose it was
+your modesty that all this while blinded me. Please, sir, I have a
+confession to make to you. Never till to-night have I loved you.”
+
+Exquisite was the shock of these words to one who, not without reason,
+had always assumed that no woman would ever love him. Before he knew
+what he was doing, he had bent down and kissed the sweet upturned face.
+It was the first kiss he had ever given outside his family circle. It
+was an artless and a resounding kiss.
+
+He started back, dazed. What manner of man, he wondered, was he? A
+coward, piling profligacy on poltroonery? Or a hero, claiming exemption
+from moral law? What was done could not be undone; but it could be
+righted. He drew off from the little finger of his left hand that iron
+ring which, after a twinge of rheumatism, he had to-day resumed.
+
+“Wear it,” he said.
+
+“You mean--?” She leapt to her feet.
+
+“That we are engaged. I hope you don’t think we have any choice?”
+
+She clapped her hands, like the child she was, and adjusted the ring.
+
+“It is very pretty,” she said.
+
+“It is very simple,” he answered lightly. “But,” he added, with a change
+of tone, “it is very durable. And that is the important thing. For I
+shall not be in a position to marry before I am forty.”
+
+A shadow of disappointment hovered over Katie’s clear young brow, but
+was instantly chased away by the thought that to be engaged was almost
+as splendid as to be married.
+
+“Recently,” said her lover, “I meditated leaving Oxford for Australia.
+But now that you have come into my life, I am compelled to drop that
+notion, and to carve out the career I had first set for myself. A year
+hence, if I get a Second in Greats--and I SHALL” he said, with a
+fierce look that entranced her--“I shall have a very good chance of an
+assistant-mastership in a good private school. In eighteen years, if I
+am careful--and, with you waiting for me, I SHALL be careful--my savings
+will enable me to start a small school of my own, and to take a wife.
+Even then it would be more prudent to wait another five years, no doubt.
+But there was always a streak of madness in the Noakses. I say ‘Prudence
+to the winds!’”
+
+“Ah, don’t say that!” exclaimed Katie, laying a hand on his sleeve.
+
+“You are right. Never hesitate to curb me. And,” he said, touching the
+ring, “an idea has just occurred to me. When the time comes, let this
+be the wedding-ring. Gold is gaudy--not at all the thing for a
+schoolmaster’s bride. It is a pity,” he muttered, examining her through
+his spectacles, “that your hair is so golden. A schoolmaster’s bride
+should--Good heavens! Those ear-rings! Where did you get THEM?”
+
+“They were given to me to-day,” Katie faltered. “The Duke gave me them.”
+
+“Indeed?”
+
+“Please, sir, he gave me them as a memento.”
+
+“And that memento shall immediately be handed over to his executors.”
+
+“Yes, sir.”
+
+“I should think so!” was on the tip of Noaks’ tongue, but suddenly he
+ceased to see the pearls as trinkets finite and inapposite--saw them,
+in a flash, as things transmutable by sale hereafter into desks, forms,
+black-boards, maps, lockers, cubicles, gravel soil, diet unlimited, and
+special attention to backward pupils. Simultaneously, he saw how mean
+had been his motive for repudiating the gift. What more despicable than
+jealousy of a man deceased? What sillier than to cast pearls before
+executors? Sped by nothing but the pulse of his hot youth, he had wooed
+and won this girl. Why flinch from her unsought dowry?
+
+He told her his vision. Her eyes opened wide to it. “And oh,” she cried,
+“then we can be married as soon as you take your degree!”
+
+He bade her not be so foolish. Who ever heard of a head-master aged
+three-and-twenty? What parent or guardian would trust a stripling? The
+engagement must run its course. “And,” he said, fidgeting, “do you know
+that I have hardly done any reading to-day?”
+
+“You want to read NOW--TO-NIGHT?”
+
+“I must put in a good two hours. Where are the books that were on my
+table?”
+
+Reverently--he was indeed a king of men--she took the books down from
+the shelf, and placed them where she had found them. And she knew not
+which thrilled her the more--the kiss he gave her at parting, or the
+tone in which he told her that the one thing he could not and would not
+stand was having his books disturbed.
+
+Still less than before attuned to the lugubrious session downstairs, she
+went straight up to her attic, and did a little dance there in the
+dark. She threw open the lattice of the dormer-window, and leaned out,
+smiling, throbbing.
+
+The Emperors, gazing up, saw her happy, and wondered; saw Noaks’ ring on
+her finger, and would fain have shaken their grey heads.
+
+Presently she was aware of a protrusion from the window beneath hers.
+The head of her beloved! Fondly she watched it, wished she could reach
+down to stroke it. She loved him for having, after all, left his books.
+It was sweet to be his excuse. Should she call softly to him? No, it
+might shame him to be caught truant. He had already chidden her for
+prying. So she did but gaze down on his head silently, wondering whether
+in eighteen years it would be bald, wondering whether her own hair would
+still have the fault of being golden. Most of all, she wondered whether
+he loved her half so much as she loved him.
+
+This happened to be precisely what he himself was wondering. Not that
+he wished himself free. He was one of those in whom the will does not,
+except under very great pressure, oppose the conscience. What pressure
+here? Miss Batch was a superior girl; she would grace any station in
+life. He had always been rather in awe of her. It was a fine thing to be
+suddenly loved by her, to be in a position to over-rule her every whim.
+Plighting his troth, he had feared she would be an encumbrance, only to
+find she was a lever. But--was he deeply in love with her? How was it
+that he could not at this moment recall her features, or the tone of her
+voice, while of deplorable Miss Dobson, every lineament, every accent,
+so vividly haunted him? Try as he would to beat off these memories, he
+failed, and--some very great pressure here!--was glad he failed; glad
+though he found himself relapsing to the self-contempt from which Miss
+Batch had raised him. He scorned himself for being alive. And again, he
+scorned himself for his infidelity. Yet he was glad he could not forget
+that face, that voice--that queen. She had smiled at him when she
+borrowed the ring. She had said “Thank you.” Oh, and now, at this very
+moment, sleeping or waking, actually she was somewhere--she! herself!
+This was an incredible, an indubitable, an all-magical fact for the
+little fellow.
+
+From the street below came a faint cry that was as the cry of his own
+heart, uttered by her own lips. Quaking, he peered down, and dimly saw,
+over the way, a cloaked woman.
+
+She--yes, it was she herself--came gliding to the middle of the road,
+gazing up at him.
+
+“At last!” he heard her say. His instinct was to hide himself from the
+queen he had not died for. Yet he could not move.
+
+“Or,” she quavered, “are you a phantom sent to mock me? Speak!”
+
+“Good evening,” he said huskily.
+
+“I knew,” she murmured, “I knew the gods were not so cruel. Oh man of my
+need,” she cried, stretching out her arms to him, “oh heaven-sent, I see
+you only as a dark outline against the light of your room. But I know
+you. Your name is Noaks, isn’t it? Dobson is mine. I am your Warden’s
+grand-daughter. I am faint and foot-sore. I have ranged this desert city
+in search of--of YOU. Let me hear from your own lips that you love me.
+Tell me in your own words--” She broke off with a little scream, and did
+not stand with forefinger pointed at him, gazing, gasping.
+
+“Listen, Miss Dobson,” he stammered, writhing under what he took to be
+the lash of her irony. “Give me time to explain. You see me here--”
+
+“Hush,” she cried, “man of my greater, my deeper and nobler need!
+Oh hush, ideal which not consciously I was out for to-night--ideal
+vouchsafed to me by a crowning mercy! I sought a lover, I find a master.
+I sought but a live youth, was blind to what his survival would betoken.
+Oh master, you think me light and wicked. You stare coldly down at me
+through your spectacles, whose glint I faintly discern now that the moon
+peeps forth. You would be readier to forgive me the havoc I have wrought
+if you could for the life of you understand what charm your friends
+found in me. You marvel, as at the skull of Helen of Troy. No, you don’t
+think me hideous: you simply think me plain. There was a time when I
+thought YOU plain--you whose face, now that the moon shines full on it,
+is seen to be of a beauty that is flawless without being insipid. Oh
+that I were a glove upon that hand, that I might touch that cheek! You
+shudder at the notion of such contact. My voice grates on you. You try
+to silence me with frantic though exquisite gestures, and with noises
+inarticulate but divine. I bow to your will, master. Chasten me with
+your tongue.”
+
+“I am not what you think me,” gibbered Noaks. “I was not afraid to die
+for you. I love you. I was on my way to the river this afternoon, but
+I--I tripped and sprained my ankle, and--and jarred my spine. They
+carried me back here. I am still very weak. I can’t put my foot to the
+ground. As soon as I can--”
+
+Just then Zuleika heard a little sharp sound which, for the fraction of
+an instant, before she knew it to be a clink of metal on the pavement,
+she thought was the breaking of the heart within her. Looking quickly
+down, she heard a shrill girlish laugh aloft. Looking quickly up,
+she descried at the unlit window above her lover’s a face which she
+remembered as that of the land-lady’s daughter.
+
+“Find it, Miss Dobson,” laughed the girl. “Crawl for it. It can’t have
+rolled far, and it’s the only engagement-ring you’ll get from HIM,” she
+said, pointing to the livid face twisted painfully up at her from the
+lower window. “Grovel for it, Miss Dobson. Ask him to step down and help
+you. Oh, he can! That was all lies about his spine and ankle. Afraid,
+that’s what he was--I see it all now--afraid of the water. I wish you’d
+found him as I did--skulking behind the curtain. Oh, you’re welcome to
+him.”
+
+“Don’t listen,” Noaks cried down. “Don’t listen to that person. I admit
+I have trifled with her affections. This is her revenge--these wicked
+untruths--these--these--”
+
+Zuleika silenced him with a gesture. “Your tone to me,” she said up to
+Katie, “is not without offence; but the stamp of truth is on what you
+tell me. We have both been deceived in this man, and are, in some sort,
+sisters.”
+
+“Sisters?” cried Katie. “Your sisters are the snake and the spider,
+though neither of them wishes it known. I loathe you. And the Duke
+loathed you, too.”
+
+“What’s that?” gasped Zuleika.
+
+“Didn’t he tell you? He told me. And I warrant he told you, too.”
+
+“He died for love of me: d’you hear?”
+
+“Ah, you’d like people to think so, wouldn’t you? Does a man who loves a
+woman give away the keepsake she gave him? Look!” Katie leaned forward,
+pointing to her ear-rings. “He loved ME,” she cried. “He put them in with
+his own hands--told me to wear them always. And he kissed me--kissed me
+good-bye in the street, where every one could see. He kissed me,” she
+sobbed. “No other man shall ever do that.”
+
+“Ah, that he did!” said a voice level with Zuleika. It was the voice of
+Mrs. Batch, who a few moments ago had opened the door for her departing
+guests.
+
+“Ah, that he did!” echoed the guests.
+
+“Never mind them, Miss Dobson,” cried Noaks, and at the sound of his
+voice Mrs. Batch rushed into the middle of the road, to gaze up. “_I_
+love you. Think what you will of me. I--”
+
+“You!” flashed Zuleika. “As for you, little Sir Lily Liver, leaning
+out there, and, I frankly tell you, looking like nothing so much as a
+gargoyle hewn by a drunken stone-mason for the adornment of a Methodist
+Chapel in one of the vilest suburbs of Leeds or Wigan, I do but
+felicitate the river-god and his nymphs that their water was saved
+to-day by your cowardice from the contamination of your plunge.”
+
+“Shame on you, Mr. Noaks,” said Mrs. Batch, “making believe you were
+dead--”
+
+“Shame!” screamed Clarence, who had darted out into the fray.
+
+“I found him hiding behind the curtain,” chimed in Katie.
+
+“And I a mother to him!” said Mrs. Batch, shaking her fist. “‘What is
+life without love?’ indeed! Oh, the cowardly, underhand--”
+
+“Wretch,” prompted her cronies.
+
+“Let’s kick him out of the house!” suggested Clarence, dancing for joy.
+
+Zuleika, smiling brilliantly down at the boy, said “Just you run up and
+fight him!”
+
+“Right you are,” he answered, with a look of knightly devotion, and
+darted back into the house.
+
+“No escape!” she cried up to Noaks. “You’ve got to fight him now. He and
+you are just about evenly matched, I fancy.”
+
+But, grimly enough, Zuleika’s estimate was never put to the test. Is
+it harder for a coward to fight with his fists than to kill himself? Or
+again, is it easier for him to die than to endure a prolonged cross-fire
+of women’s wrath and scorn? This I know: that in the life of even the
+least and meanest of us there is somewhere one fine moment--one high
+chance not missed. I like to think it was by operation of this law that
+Noaks had now clambered out upon the window-sill, silencing, sickening,
+scattering like chaff the women beneath him.
+
+He was already not there when Clarence bounded into the room. “Come on!”
+ yelled the boy, first thrusting his head behind the door, then diving
+beneath the table, then plucking aside either window-curtain, vowing
+vengeance.
+
+Vengeance was not his. Down on the road without, not yet looked at but
+by the steadfast eyes of the Emperors, the last of the undergraduates
+lay dead; and fleet-footed Zuleika, with her fingers still pressed to
+her ears, had taken full toll now.
+
+
+
+
+XXIII
+
+Twisting and turning in her flight, with wild eyes that fearfully
+retained the image of that small man gathering himself to spring,
+Zuleika found herself suddenly where she could no further go.
+
+She was in that grim ravine by which you approach New College. At sight
+of the great shut gate before her, she halted, and swerved to the wall.
+She set her brow and the palms of her hands against the cold stones. She
+threw back her head, and beat the stones with her fists.
+
+It was not only what she had seen, it was what she had barely saved
+herself from seeing, and what she had not quite saved herself from
+hearing, that she strove so piteously to forget. She was sorrier for
+herself, angrier, than she had been last night when the Duke laid hands
+on her. Why should every day have a horrible ending? Last night she
+had avenged herself. To-night’s outrage was all the more foul and mean
+because of its certain immunity. And the fact that she had in some
+measure brought it on herself did but whip her rage. What a fool she
+had been to taunt the man! Yet no, how could she have foreseen that he
+would--do THAT? How could she have guessed that he, who had not dared
+seemly death for her in the gentle river, would dare--THAT?
+
+She shuddered the more as she now remembered that this very day, in that
+very house, she had invited for her very self a similar fate. What if
+the Duke had taken her word? Strange! she wouldn’t have flinched then.
+She had felt no horror at the notion of such a death. And thus she now
+saw Noaks’ conduct in a new light--saw that he had but wished to prove
+his love, not at all to affront her. This understanding quickly steadied
+her nerves. She did not need now to forget what she had seen; and, not
+needing to forget it--thus are our brains fashioned--she was able to
+forget it.
+
+But by removal of one load her soul was but bared for a more grievous
+other. Her memory harked back to what had preceded the crisis. She
+recalled those moments of doomed rapture in which her heart had soared
+up to the apocalyptic window--recalled how, all the while she was
+speaking to the man there, she had been chafed by the inadequacy of
+language. Oh, how much more she had meant than she could express! Oh,
+the ecstasy of that self-surrender! And the brevity of it! the sudden
+odious awakening! Thrice in this Oxford she had been duped. Thrice all
+that was fine and sweet in her had leapt forth, only to be scourged back
+into hiding. Poor heart inhibited! She gazed about her. The stone alley
+she had come into, the terrible shut gate, were for her a visible symbol
+of the destiny she had to put up with. Wringing her hands, she hastened
+along the way she had come. She vowed she would never again set foot in
+Oxford. She wished herself out of the hateful little city to-night. She
+even wished herself dead.
+
+She deserved to suffer, you say? Maybe. I merely state that she did
+suffer.
+
+Emerging into Catherine Street, she knew whereabouts she was, and made
+straight for Judas, turning away her eyes as she skirted the Broad, that
+place of mocked hopes and shattered ideals.
+
+Coming into Judas Street, she remembered the scene of yesterday--the
+happy man with her, the noise of the vast happy crowd. She suffered in
+a worse form what she had suffered in the gallery of the Hall. For
+now--did I not say she was not without imagination?--her self-pity was
+sharpened by remorse for the hundreds of homes robbed. She realised the
+truth of what the poor Duke had once said to her: she was a danger in
+the world... Aye, and all the more dire now. What if the youth of all
+Europe were moved by Oxford’s example? That was a horribly possible
+thing. It must be reckoned with. It must be averted. She must not show
+herself to men. She must find some hiding-place, and there abide. Were
+this a hardship? she asked herself. Was she not sickened for ever of
+men’s homage? And was it not clear now that the absorbing need in her
+soul, the need to love, would never--except for a brief while, now and
+then, and by an unfortunate misunderstanding--be fulfilled?
+
+So long ago that you may not remember, I compared her favourably with
+the shepherdess Marcella, and pleaded her capacity for passion as an
+excuse for her remaining at large. I hope you will now, despite your
+rather evident animus against her, set this to her credit: that she did,
+so soon as she realised the hopelessness of her case, make just that
+decision which I blamed Marcella for not making at the outset. It was as
+she stood on the Warden’s door-step that she decided to take the veil.
+
+With something of a conventual hush in her voice, she said to the
+butler, “Please tell my maid that we are leaving by a very early train
+to-morrow, and that she must pack my things to-night.”
+
+“Very well, Miss,” said the butler. “The Warden,” he added, “is in the
+study, Miss, and was asking for you.”
+
+She could face her grandfather without a tremour--now. She would hear
+meekly whatever reproaches he might have for her, but their sting was
+already drawn by the surprise she had in store for him.
+
+It was he who seemed a trifle nervous. In his
+
+“Well, did you come and peep down from the gallery?” there was a
+distinct tremour.
+
+Throwing aside her cloak, she went quickly to him, and laid a hand on
+the lapel of his coat. “Poor grand-papa!” she said.
+
+“Nonsense, my dear child,” he replied, disengaging himself. “I didn’t
+give it a thought. If the young men chose to be so silly as to stay
+away, I--I--”
+
+“Grand-papa, haven’t you been told YET?”
+
+“Told? I am a Gallio for such follies. I didn’t inquire.”
+
+“But (forgive me, grand-papa, if I seem to you, for the moment, pert)
+you are Warden here. It is your duty, even your privilege, to GUARD.
+Is it not? Well, I grant you the adage that it is useless to bolt the
+stable door when the horse has been stolen. But what shall be said of
+the ostler who doesn’t know--won’t even ‘inquire’ whether--the horse HAS
+been stolen, grand-papa?”
+
+“You speak in riddles, Zuleika.”
+
+“I wish with all my heart I need not tell you the answers. I think I
+have a very real grievance against your staff--or whatever it is you
+call your subordinates here. I go so far as to dub them dodderers. And
+I shall the better justify that term by not shirking the duty they have
+left undone. The reason why there were no undergraduates in your Hall
+to-night is that they were all dead.”
+
+“Dead?” he gasped. “Dead? It is disgraceful that I was not told. What
+did they die of?”
+
+“Of me.”
+
+“Of you?”
+
+“Yes. I am an epidemic, grand-papa, a scourge, such as the world has not
+known. Those young men drowned themselves for love of me.”
+
+He came towards her. “Do you realise, girl, what this means to me? I am
+an old man. For more than half a century I have known this College. To
+it, when my wife died, I gave all that there was of heart left in me.
+For thirty years I have been Warden; and in that charge has been all my
+pride. I have had no thought but for this great College, its honour and
+prosperity. More than once lately have I asked myself whether my eyes
+were growing dim, my hand less steady. ‘No’ was my answer, and again
+‘No.’ And thus it is that I have lingered on to let Judas be struck down
+from its high eminence, shamed in the eyes of England--a College for
+ever tainted, and of evil omen.” He raised his head. “The disgrace to
+myself is nothing. I care not how parents shall rage against me, and the
+Heads of other Colleges make merry over my decrepitude. It is because
+you have wrought the downfall of Judas that I am about to lay my undying
+curse on you.”
+
+“You mustn’t do that!” she cried. “It would be a sort of sacrilege. I am
+going to be a nun. Besides, why should you? I can quite well understand
+your feeling for Judas. But how is Judas more disgraced than any other
+College? If it were only the Judas undergraduates who had--”
+
+“There were others?” cried the Warden. “How many?”
+
+“All. All the boys from all the Colleges.”
+
+The Warden heaved a deep sigh. “Of course,” he said, “this changes the
+aspect of the whole matter. I wish you had made it clear at once. You
+gave me a very great shock,” he said sinking into his arm-chair, “and I
+have not yet recovered. You must study the art of exposition.”
+
+“That will depend on the rules of the convent.”
+
+“Ah, I forgot that you were going into a convent. Anglican, I hope?”
+
+Anglican, she supposed.
+
+“As a young man,” he said, “I saw much of dear old Dr. Pusey. It might
+have somewhat reconciled him to my marriage if he had known that my
+grand-daughter would take the veil.” He adjusted his glasses, and looked
+at her. “Are you sure you have a vocation?”
+
+“Yes. I want to be out of the world. I want to do no more harm.”
+
+He eyed her musingly. “That,” he said, “is rather a revulsion than
+a vocation. I remember that I ventured to point out to Dr. Pusey the
+difference between those two things, when he was almost persuading me
+to enter a Brotherhood founded by one of his friends. It may be that the
+world would be well rid of you, my dear child. But it is not the world
+only that we must consider. Would you grace the recesses of the Church?”
+
+“I could but try,” said Zuleika.
+
+“‘You could but try’ are the very words Dr. Pusey used to me. I ventured
+to say that in such a matter effort itself was a stigma of unfitness.
+For all my moods of revulsion, I knew that my place was in the world. I
+stayed there.”
+
+“But suppose, grand-papa”--and, seeing in fancy the vast agitated
+flotilla of crinolines, she could not forbear a smile--“suppose all the
+young ladies of that period had drowned themselves for love of you?”
+
+Her smile seemed to nettle the Warden. “I was greatly admired,” he said.
+“Greatly,” he repeated.
+
+“And you liked that, grand-papa?”
+
+“Yes, my dear. Yes, I am afraid I did. But I never encouraged it.”
+
+“Your own heart was never touched?”
+
+“Never, until I met Laura Frith.”
+
+“Who was she?”
+
+“She was my future wife.”
+
+“And how was it you singled her out from the rest? Was she very
+beautiful?”
+
+“No. It cannot be said that she was beautiful. Indeed, she was accounted
+plain. I think it was her great dignity that attracted me. She did not
+smile archly at me, nor shake her ringlets. In those days it was the
+fashion for young ladies to embroider slippers for such men in holy
+orders as best pleased their fancy. I received hundreds--thousands--of
+such slippers. But never a pair from Laura Frith.”
+
+“She did not love you?” asked Zuleika, who had seated herself on the
+floor at her grandfather’s feet.
+
+I concluded that she did not. It interested me very greatly. It fired
+me.
+
+“Was she incapable of love?”
+
+“No, it was notorious in her circle that she had loved often, but loved
+in vain.”
+
+“Why did she marry you?”
+
+“I think she was fatigued by my importunities. She was not very strong.
+But it may be that she married me out of pique. She never told me. I did
+not inquire.”
+
+“Yet you were very happy with her?”
+
+“While she lived, I was ideally happy.”
+
+The young woman stretched out a hand, and laid it on the clasped hands
+of the old man. He sat gazing into the past. She was silent for a while;
+and in her eyes, still fixed intently on his face, there were tears.
+
+“Grand-papa dear”--but there were tears in her voice, too.
+
+“My child, you don’t understand. If I had needed pity--”
+
+“I do understand--so well. I wasn’t pitying you, dear, I was envying you
+a little.”
+
+“Me?--an old man with only the remembrance of happiness?”
+
+“You, who have had happiness granted to you. That isn’t what made me
+cry, though. I cried because I was glad. You and I, with all this great
+span of years between us, and yet--so wonderfully alike! I had always
+thought of myself as a creature utterly apart.”
+
+“Ah, that is how all young people think of themselves. It wears off.
+Tell me about this wonderful resemblance of ours.”
+
+He sat attentive while she described her heart to him. But when, at the
+close of her confidences, she said, “So you see it’s a case of sheer
+heredity, grand-papa,” the word “Fiddlesticks!” would out.
+
+“Forgive me, my dear,” he said, patting her hand. “I was very much
+interested. But I do believe young people are even more staggered by
+themselves than they were in my day. And then, all these grand theories
+they fall back on! Heredity... as if there were something to baffle us
+in the fact of a young woman liking to be admired! And as if it were
+passing strange of her to reserve her heart for a man she can respect
+and look up to! And as if a man’s indifference to her were not of all
+things the likeliest to give her a sense of inferiority to him! You and
+I, my dear, may in some respects be very queer people, but in the matter
+of the affections we are ordinary enough.”
+
+“Oh grand-papa, do you really mean that?” she cried eagerly.
+
+“At my age, a man husbands his resources. He says nothing that he does
+not really mean. The indifference between you and other young women
+is that which lay also between me and other young men: a special
+attractiveness... Thousands of slippers, did I say? Tens of thousands. I
+had hoarded them with a fatuous pride. On the evening of my betrothal I
+made a bonfire of them, visible from three counties. I danced round it
+all night.” And from his old eyes darted even now the reflections of
+those flames.
+
+“Glorious!” whispered Zuleika. “But ah,” she said, rising to her feet,
+“tell me no more of it--poor me! You see, it isn’t a mere special
+attractiveness that _I_ have. _I_ am irresistible.”
+
+“A daring statement, my child--very hard to prove.”
+
+“Hasn’t it been proved up to the hilt to-day?”
+
+“To-day?... Ah, and so they did really all drown themselves for you?...
+Dear, dear!... The Duke--he, too?”
+
+“He set the example.”
+
+“No! You don’t say so! He was a greatly-gifted young man--a true
+ornament to the College. But he always seemed to me rather--what shall I
+say?--inhuman... I remember now that he did seem rather excited when
+he came to the concert last night and you weren’t yet there... You are
+quite sure you were the cause of his death?”
+
+“Quite,” said Zuleika, marvelling at the lie--or fib, rather: he had
+been GOING to die for her. But why not have told the truth? Was it
+possible, she wondered, that her wretched vanity had survived her
+renunciation of the world? Why had she so resented just now the doubt
+cast on that irresistibility which had blighted and cranked her whole
+life?
+
+“Well, my dear,” said the Warden, “I confess that I am
+amazed--astounded.” Again he adjusted his glasses, and looked at her.
+
+She found herself moving slowly around the study, with the gait of a
+mannequin in a dress-maker’s show-room. She tried to stop this; but her
+body seemed to be quite beyond control of her mind. It had the insolence
+to go ambling on its own account. “Little space you’ll have in a convent
+cell,” snarled her mind vindictively. Her body paid no heed whatever.
+
+Her grandfather, leaning back in his chair, gazed at the ceiling, and
+meditatively tapped the finger-tips of one hand against those of the
+other. “Sister Zuleika,” he presently said to the ceiling.
+
+“Well? and what is there so--so ridiculous in”--but the rest was lost in
+trill after trill of laughter; and these were then lost in sobs.
+
+The Warden had risen from his chair. “My dear,” he said, “I wasn’t
+laughing. I was only--trying to imagine. If you really want to retire
+from--”
+
+“I do,” moaned Zuleika.
+
+“Then perhaps--”
+
+“But I don’t,” she wailed.
+
+“Of course, you don’t, my dear.”
+
+“Why, of course?”
+
+“Come, you are tired, my poor child. That is very natural after this
+wonderful, this historic day. Come dry your eyes. There, that’s better.
+To-morrow--”
+
+“I do believe you’re a little proud of me.”
+
+“Heaven forgive me, I believe I am. A grandfather’s heart--But there,
+good night, my dear. Let me light your candle.”
+
+She took her cloak, and followed him out to the hall table. There she
+mentioned that she was going away early to-morrow.
+
+“To the convent?” he slyly asked.
+
+“Ah, don’t tease me, grand-papa.”
+
+“Well, I am sorry you are going away, my dear. But perhaps, in the
+circumstances, it is best. You must come and stay here again, later
+on,” he said, handing her the lit candle. “Not in term-time, though,” he
+added.
+
+“No,” she echoed, “not in term-time.”
+
+
+
+
+XXIV
+
+From the shifting gloom of the stair-case to the soft radiance cast
+through the open door of her bedroom was for poor Zuleika an almost
+heartening transition. She stood awhile on the threshold, watching
+Melisande dart to and fro like a shuttle across a loom. Already the main
+part of the packing seemed to have been accomplished. The wardrobe was a
+yawning void, the carpet was here and there visible, many of the
+trunks were already brimming and foaming over... Once more on the road!
+Somewhat as, when beneath the stars the great tent had been struck, and
+the lions were growling in their vans, and the horses were pawing the
+stamped grass and whinnying, and the elephants trumpeting, Zuleika’s
+mother may often have felt within her a wan exhilaration, so now did the
+heart of that mother’s child rise and flutter amidst the familiar bustle
+of “being off.” Weary she was of the world, and angry she was at not
+being, after all, good enough for something better. And yet--well, at
+least, good-bye to Oxford!
+
+She envied Melisande, so nimbly and cheerfully laborious till the day
+should come when her betrothed had saved enough to start a little cafe
+of his own and make her his bride and dame de comptoir. Oh, to have a
+purpose, a prospect, a stake in the world, as this faithful soul had!
+
+“Can I help you at all, Melisande?” she asked, picking her way across
+the strewn floor.
+
+Melisande, patting down a pile of chiffon, seemed to be amused at such
+a notion. “Mademoiselle has her own art. Do I mix myself in that?” she
+cried, waving one hand towards the great malachite casket.
+
+Zuleika looked at the casket, and then very gratefully at the maid. Her
+art--how had she forgotten that? Here was solace, purpose. She would
+work as she had never worked yet. She KNEW that she had it in her to do
+better than she had ever done. She confessed to herself that she had too
+often been slack in the matter of practice and rehearsal, trusting her
+personal magnetism to carry her through. Only last night she had badly
+fumbled, more than once. Her bravura business with the Demon Egg-Cup had
+been simply vile. The audience hadn’t noticed it, perhaps, but she
+had. Now she would perfect herself. Barely a fortnight now before her
+engagement at the Folies Bergeres! What if--no, she must not think of
+that! But the thought insisted. What if she essayed for Paris that
+which again and again she had meant to graft on to her repertory--the
+Provoking Thimble?
+
+She flushed at the possibility. What if her whole present repertory were
+but a passing phase in her art--a mere beginning--an earlier manner? She
+remembered how marvellously last night she had manipulated the ear-rings
+and the studs. Then lo! the light died out of her eyes, and her face
+grew rigid. That memory had brought other memories in its wake.
+
+For her, when she fled the Broad, Noaks’ window had blotted out all
+else. Now she saw again that higher window, saw that girl flaunting her
+ear-rings, gibing down at her. “He put them in with his own hands!”--the
+words rang again in her ears, making her cheeks tingle. Oh, he had
+thought it a very clever thing to do, no doubt--a splendid little
+revenge, something after his own heart! “And he kissed me in the open
+street”--excellent, excellent! She ground her teeth. And these doings
+must have been fresh in his mind when she overtook him and walked with
+him to the house-boat! Infamous! And she had then been wearing his
+studs! She drew his attention to them when--
+
+Her jewel-box stood open, to receive the jewels she wore to-night. She
+went very calmly to it. There, in a corner of the topmost tray, rested
+the two great white pearls--the pearls which, in one way and another,
+had meant so much to her.
+
+“Melisande!”
+
+“Mademoiselle?”
+
+“When we go to Paris, would you like to make a little present to your
+fiance?”
+
+“Je voudrais bien, mademoiselle.”
+
+“Then you shall give him these,” said Zuleika, holding out the two
+studs.
+
+“Mais jamais de la vie! Chez Tourtel tout le monde le dirait
+millionaire. Un garcon de cafe qui porte au plastron des perles
+pareilles--merci!”
+
+“Tell him he may tell every one that they were given to me by the late
+Duke of Dorset, and given by me to you, and by you to him.”
+
+“Mais--” The protest died on Melisande’s lips. Suddenly she had ceased
+to see the pearls as trinkets finite and inapposite--saw them as things
+presently transmutable into little marble tables, bocks, dominos,
+absinthes au sucre, shiny black portfolios with weekly journals in them,
+yellow staves with daily journals flapping from them, vermouths secs,
+vermouths cassis...
+
+“Mademoiselle is too amiable,” she said, taking the pearls.
+
+And certainly, just then, Zuleika was looking very amiable indeed. The
+look was transient. Nothing, she reflected, could undo what the Duke had
+done. That hateful, impudent girl would take good care that every one
+should know. “He put them in with his own hands.” HER ear-rings! “He
+kissed me in the public street. He loved me”... Well, he had called out
+“Zuleika!” and every one around had heard him. That was something. But
+how glad all the old women in the world would be to shake their heads
+and say “Oh, no, my dear, believe me! It wasn’t anything to do with HER.
+I’m told on the very best authority,” and so forth, and so on. She knew
+he had told any number of undergraduates he was going to die for her.
+But they, poor fellows, could not bear witness. And good heavens!
+If there were a doubt as to the Duke’s motive, why not doubts as to
+theirs?... But many of them had called out “Zuleika!” too. And of course
+any really impartial person who knew anything at all about the matter at
+first hand would be sure in his own mind that it was perfectly absurd to
+pretend that the whole thing wasn’t entirely and absolutely for her...
+And of course some of the men must have left written evidence of their
+intention. She remembered that at The MacQuern’s to-day was a Mr.
+Craddock, who had made a will in her favour and wanted to read it aloud
+to her in the middle of luncheon. Oh, there would be proof positive as
+to many of the men. But of the others it would be said that they died
+in trying to rescue their comrades. There would be all sorts of silly
+far-fetched theories, and downright lies that couldn’t be disproved...
+
+“Melisande, that crackling of tissue paper is driving me mad! Do leave
+off! Can’t you see that I am waiting to be undressed?”
+
+The maid hastened to her side, and with quick light fingers began to
+undress her. “Mademoiselle va bien dormir--ca se voit,” she purred.
+
+“I shan’t,” said Zuleika.
+
+Nevertheless, it was soothing to be undressed, and yet more soothing
+anon to sit merely night-gowned before the mirror, while, slowly and
+gently, strongly and strand by strand, Melisande brushed her hair.
+
+After all, it didn’t so much matter what the world thought. Let the
+world whisper and insinuate what it would. To slur and sully, to
+belittle and drag down--that was what the world always tried to do.
+But great things were still great, and fair things still fair. With no
+thought for the world’s opinion had these men gone down to the water
+to-day. Their deed was for her and themselves alone. It had sufficed
+them. Should it not suffice her? It did, oh it did. She was a wretch to
+have repined.
+
+At a gesture from her, Melisande brought to a close the rhythmical
+ministrations, and--using no tissue paper this time--did what was yet to
+be done among the trunks.
+
+“WE know, you and I,” Zuleika whispered to the adorable creature in the
+mirror; and the adorable creature gave back her nod and smile.
+
+THEY knew, these two.
+
+Yet, in their happiness, rose and floated a shadow between them. It was
+the ghost of that one man who--THEY knew--had died irrelevantly, with a
+cold heart.
+
+Came also the horrid little ghost of one who had died late and unseemly.
+
+And now, thick and fast, swept a whole multitude of other ghosts, the
+ghosts of all them who, being dead, could not die again; the poor ghosts
+of them who had done what they could, and could do no more.
+
+No more? Was it not enough? The lady in the mirror gazed at the lady
+in the room, reproachfully at first, then--for were they not
+sisters?--relentingly, then pityingly. Each of the two covered her face
+with her hands.
+
+And there recurred, as by stealth, to the lady in the room a thought
+that had assailed her not long ago in Judas Street... a thought about
+the power of example...
+
+And now, with pent breath and fast-beating heart, she stood staring at
+the lady of the mirror, without seeing her; and now she wheeled round
+and swiftly glided to that little table on which stood her two books.
+She snatched Bradshaw.
+
+We always intervene between Bradshaw and any one whom we see consulting
+him. “Mademoiselle will permit me to find that which she seeks?” asked
+Melisande.
+
+“Be quiet,” said Zuleika. We always repulse, at first, any one who
+intervenes between us and Bradshaw.
+
+We always end by accepting the intervention. “See if it is possible to
+go direct from here to Cambridge,” said Zuleika, handing the book on.
+“If it isn’t, then--well, see how to get there.”
+
+We never have any confidence in the intervener. Nor is the intervener,
+when it comes to the point, sanguine. With mistrust mounting to
+exasperation Zuleika sat watching the faint and frantic researches of
+her maid.
+
+“Stop!” she said suddenly. “I have a much better idea. Go down very
+early to the station. See the station-master. Order me a special train.
+For ten o’clock, say.”
+
+Rising, she stretched her arms above her head. Her lips parted in a
+yawn, met in a smile. With both hands she pushed back her hair from her
+shoulders, and twisted it into a loose knot. Very lightly she slipped up
+into bed, and very soon she was asleep.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Zuleika Dobson, by Max Beerbohm
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diff --git a/1845-0.zip b/1845-0.zip
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+<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?>
+
+<!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" lang="en">
+  <head>
+    <title>
+      Zuleika Dobson, by Max Beerbohm
+    </title>
+    <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve">
+
+    body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify}
+    P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; }
+    H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; }
+    hr  { width: 50%; text-align: center;}
+    .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; }
+    blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;}
+    .mynote    {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;}
+    .toc       { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;}
+    .toc2      { margin-left: 20%;}
+    div.fig    { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; }
+    div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; }
+    .figleft   {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;}
+    .figright  {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;}
+    .pagenum   {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal;
+               margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%;
+               text-align: right;}
+    pre        { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;}
+
+</style>
+  </head>
+  <body>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Zuleika Dobson, by Max Beerbohm
+
+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 www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Zuleika Dobson
+       or, An Oxford Love Story
+
+Author: Max Beerbohm
+
+Release Date: August, 1999 [EBook #1845]
+Last Updated: October 18, 2016
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ZULEIKA DOBSON ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Judy Boss, and David Widger
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <h1>
+      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+    </h1>
+    <h2>
+      OR AN OXFORD LOVE STORY
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      <br />
+    </p>
+    <h2>
+      By Max Beerbohm
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+           NOTE to the 1922 edition
+
+           I was in Italy when this book was first published.
+           A year later (1912) I visited London, and I found
+           that most of my friends and acquaintances spoke to
+           me of Zu-like-a&mdash;a name which I hardly recognised
+           and thoroughly disapproved. I had always thought
+           of the lady as Zu-leek-a. Surely it was thus that
+           Joseph thought of his Wife, and Selim of his Bride?
+           And I do hope that it is thus that any reader of
+           these pages will think of Miss Dobson.
+
+                                                M.B.
+                                                Rapallo, 1922.
+  </pre>
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <blockquote>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big>
+      </p>
+      <p>
+        <br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> <big><b>ZULEIKA DOBSON</b></big> </a><br /><br /><br />
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> I </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> II </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> III </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> IV </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> V </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> VI </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> VII </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> VIII </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> IX </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> X </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> XI </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0014"> XII </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0015"> XIII </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0016"> XIV </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0017"> XV </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0018"> XVI </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0019"> XVII </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0020"> XVIII </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0021"> XIX </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0022"> XX </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0023"> XXI </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0024"> XXII </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0025"> XXIII </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0026"> XXIV </a>
+      </p>
+    </blockquote>
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <h2>
+      ILLI ALMAE MATRI
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h1>
+      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+    </h1>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      I
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      That old bell, presage of a train, had just sounded through Oxford
+      station; and the undergraduates who were waiting there, gay figures in
+      tweed or flannel, moved to the margin of the platform and gazed idly up
+      the line. Young and careless, in the glow of the afternoon sunshine, they
+      struck a sharp note of incongruity with the worn boards they stood on,
+      with the fading signals and grey eternal walls of that antique station,
+      which, familiar to them and insignificant, does yet whisper to the tourist
+      the last enchantments of the Middle Age.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At the door of the first-class waiting-room, aloof and venerable, stood
+      the Warden of Judas. An ebon pillar of tradition seemed he, in his garb of
+      old-fashioned cleric. Aloft, between the wide brim of his silk hat and the
+      white extent of his shirt-front, appeared those eyes which hawks, that
+      nose which eagles, had often envied. He supported his years on an ebon
+      stick. He alone was worthy of the background.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Came a whistle from the distance. The breast of an engine was descried,
+      and a long train curving after it, under a flight of smoke. It grew and
+      grew. Louder and louder, its noise foreran it. It became a furious,
+      enormous monster, and, with an instinct for safety, all men receded from
+      the platform&rsquo;s margin. (Yet came there with it, unknown to them, a danger
+      far more terrible than itself.) Into the station it came blustering, with
+      cloud and clangour. Ere it had yet stopped, the door of one carriage flew
+      open, and from it, in a white travelling dress, in a toque a-twinkle with
+      fine diamonds, a lithe and radiant creature slipped nimbly down to the
+      platform.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A cynosure indeed! A hundred eyes were fixed on her, and half as many
+      hearts lost to her. The Warden of Judas himself had mounted on his nose a
+      pair of black-rimmed glasses. Him espying, the nymph darted in his
+      direction. The throng made way for her. She was at his side.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Grandpapa!&rdquo; she cried, and kissed the old man on either cheek. (Not a
+      youth there but would have bartered fifty years of his future for that
+      salute.)
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear Zuleika,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;welcome to Oxford! Have you no luggage?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Heaps!&rdquo; she answered. &ldquo;And a maid who will find it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then,&rdquo; said the Warden, &ldquo;let us drive straight to College.&rdquo; He offered
+      her his arm, and they proceeded slowly to the entrance. She chatted gaily,
+      blushing not in the long avenue of eyes she passed through. All the
+      youths, under her spell, were now quite oblivious of the relatives they
+      had come to meet. Parents, sisters, cousins, ran unclaimed about the
+      platform. Undutiful, all the youths were forming a serried suite to their
+      enchantress. In silence they followed her. They saw her leap into the
+      Warden&rsquo;s landau, they saw the Warden seat himself upon her left. Nor was
+      it until the landau was lost to sight that they turned&mdash;how slowly,
+      and with how bad a grace!&mdash;to look for their relatives.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Through those slums which connect Oxford with the world, the landau rolled
+      on towards Judas. Not many youths occurred, for nearly all&mdash;it was
+      the Monday of Eights Week&mdash;were down by the river, cheering the
+      crews. There did, however, come spurring by, on a polo-pony, a very
+      splendid youth. His straw hat was encircled with a riband of blue and
+      white, and he raised it to the Warden.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That,&rdquo; said the Warden, &ldquo;is the Duke of Dorset, a member of my College.
+      He dines at my table to-night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Zuleika, turning to regard his Grace, saw that he had not reined in and
+      was not even glancing back at her over his shoulder. She gave a little
+      start of dismay, but scarcely had her lips pouted ere they curved to a
+      smile&mdash;a smile with no malice in its corners.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As the landau rolled into &ldquo;the Corn,&rdquo; another youth&mdash;a pedestrian,
+      and very different&mdash;saluted the Warden. He wore a black jacket, rusty
+      and amorphous. His trousers were too short, and he himself was too short:
+      almost a dwarf. His face was as plain as his gait was undistinguished. He
+      squinted behind spectacles.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And who is that?&rdquo; asked Zuleika.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A deep flush overspread the cheek of the Warden. &ldquo;That,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;is also
+      a member of Judas. His name, I believe, is Noaks.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is he dining with us to-night?&rdquo; asked Zuleika.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Certainly not,&rdquo; said the Warden. &ldquo;Most decidedly not.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Noaks, unlike the Duke, had stopped for an ardent retrospect. He gazed
+      till the landau was out of his short sight; then, sighing, resumed his
+      solitary walk.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The landau was rolling into &ldquo;the Broad,&rdquo; over that ground which had once
+      blackened under the fagots lit for Latimer and Ridley. It rolled past the
+      portals of Balliol and of Trinity, past the Ashmolean. From those
+      pedestals which intersperse the railing of the Sheldonian, the high grim
+      busts of the Roman Emperors stared down at the fair stranger in the
+      equipage. Zuleika returned their stare with but a casual glance. The
+      inanimate had little charm for her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A moment later, a certain old don emerged from Blackwell&rsquo;s, where he had
+      been buying books. Looking across the road, he saw, to his amazement,
+      great beads of perspiration glistening on the brows of those Emperors. He
+      trembled, and hurried away. That evening, in Common Room, he told what he
+      had seen; and no amount of polite scepticism would convince him that it
+      was but the hallucination of one who had been reading too much Mommsen. He
+      persisted that he had seen what he described. It was not until two days
+      had elapsed that some credence was accorded him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Yes, as the landau rolled by, sweat started from the brows of the
+      Emperors. They, at least, foresaw the peril that was overhanging Oxford,
+      and they gave such warning as they could. Let that be remembered to their
+      credit. Let that incline us to think more gently of them. In their lives
+      we know, they were infamous, some of them&mdash;&ldquo;nihil non commiserunt
+      stupri, saevitiae, impietatis.&rdquo; But are they too little punished, after
+      all? Here in Oxford, exposed eternally and inexorably to heat and frost,
+      to the four winds that lash them and the rains that wear them away, they
+      are expiating, in effigy, the abominations of their pride and cruelty and
+      lust. Who were lechers, they are without bodies; who were tyrants, they
+      are crowned never but with crowns of snow; who made themselves even with
+      the gods, they are by American visitors frequently mistaken for the Twelve
+      Apostles. It is but a little way down the road that the two Bishops
+      perished for their faith, and even now we do never pass the spot without a
+      tear for them. Yet how quickly they died in the flames! To these Emperors,
+      for whom none weeps, time will give no surcease. Surely, it is sign of
+      some grace in them that they rejoiced not, this bright afternoon, in the
+      evil that was to befall the city of their penance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      II
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      The sun streamed through the bay-window of a &ldquo;best&rdquo; bedroom in the
+      Warden&rsquo;s house, and glorified the pale crayon-portraits on the wall, the
+      dimity curtains, the old fresh chintz. He invaded the many trunks which&mdash;all
+      painted Z. D.&mdash;gaped, in various stages of excavation, around the
+      room. The doors of the huge wardrobe stood, like the doors of Janus&rsquo; 
+      temple in time of war, majestically open; and the sun seized this
+      opportunity of exploring the mahogany recesses. But the carpet, which had
+      faded under his immemorial visitations, was now almost ENTIRELY hidden
+      from him, hidden under layers of fair fine linen, layers of silk, brocade,
+      satin, chiffon, muslin. All the colours of the rainbow, materialised by
+      modistes, were there. Stacked on chairs were I know not what of sachets,
+      glove-cases, fan-cases. There were innumerable packages in silver-paper
+      and pink ribands. There was a pyramid of bandboxes. There was a virgin
+      forest of boot-trees. And rustling quickly hither and thither, in and out
+      of this profusion, with armfuls of finery, was an obviously French maid.
+      Alert, unerring, like a swallow she dipped and darted. Nothing escaped
+      her, and she never rested. She had the air of the born unpacker&mdash;swift
+      and firm, yet withal tender. Scarce had her arms been laden but their
+      loads were lying lightly between shelves or tightly in drawers. To
+      calculate, catch, distribute, seemed in her but a single process. She was
+      one of those who are born to make chaos cosmic.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Insomuch that ere the loud chapel-clock tolled another hour all the trunks
+      had been sent empty away. The carpet was unflecked by any scrap of
+      silver-paper. From the mantelpiece, photographs of Zuleika surveyed the
+      room with a possessive air. Zuleika&rsquo;s pincushion, a-bristle with new pins,
+      lay on the dimity-flounced toilet-table, and round it stood a multitude of
+      multiform glass vessels, domed, all of them, with dull gold, on which Z.
+      D., in zianites and diamonds, was encrusted. On a small table stood a
+      great casket of malachite, initialled in like fashion. On another small
+      table stood Zuleika&rsquo;s library. Both books were in covers of dull gold. On
+      the back of one cover BRADSHAW, in beryls, was encrusted; on the back of
+      the other, A.B.C. GUIDE, in amethysts, beryls, chrysoprases, and garnets.
+      And Zuleika&rsquo;s great cheval-glass stood ready to reflect her. Always it
+      travelled with her, in a great case specially made for it. It was framed
+      in ivory, and of fluted ivory were the slim columns it swung between. Of
+      gold were its twin sconces, and four tall tapers stood in each of them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The door opened, and the Warden, with hospitable words, left his
+      grand-daughter at the threshold.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Zuleika wandered to her mirror. &ldquo;Undress me, Melisande,&rdquo; she said. Like
+      all who are wont to appear by night before the public, she had the habit
+      of resting towards sunset.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently Melisande withdrew. Her mistress, in a white peignoir tied with
+      a blue sash, lay in a great chintz chair, gazing out of the bay-window.
+      The quadrangle below was very beautiful, with its walls of rugged grey,
+      its cloisters, its grass carpet. But to her it was of no more interest
+      than if it had been the rattling court-yard to one of those hotels in
+      which she spent her life. She saw it, but heeded it not. She seemed to be
+      thinking of herself, or of something she desired, or of some one she had
+      never met. There was ennui, and there was wistfulness, in her gaze. Yet
+      one would have guessed these things to be transient&mdash;to be no more
+      than the little shadows that sometimes pass between a bright mirror and
+      the brightness it reflects.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Zuleika was not strictly beautiful. Her eyes were a trifle large, and
+      their lashes longer than they need have been. An anarchy of small curls
+      was her chevelure, a dark upland of misrule, every hair asserting its
+      rights over a not discreditable brow. For the rest, her features were not
+      at all original. They seemed to have been derived rather from a
+      gallimaufry of familiar models. From Madame la Marquise de Saint-Ouen came
+      the shapely tilt of the nose. The mouth was a mere replica of Cupid&rsquo;s bow,
+      lacquered scarlet and strung with the littlest pearls. No apple-tree, no
+      wall of peaches, had not been robbed, nor any Tyrian rose-garden, for the
+      glory of Miss Dobson&rsquo;s cheeks. Her neck was imitation-marble. Her hands
+      and feet were of very mean proportions. She had no waist to speak of.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Yet, though a Greek would have railed at her asymmetry, and an Elizabethan
+      have called her &ldquo;gipsy,&rdquo; Miss Dobson now, in the midst of the Edwardian
+      Era, was the toast of two hemispheres. Late in her &lsquo;teens she had become
+      an orphan and a governess. Her grandfather had refused her appeal for a
+      home or an allowance, on the ground that he would not be burdened with the
+      upshot of a marriage which he had once forbidden and not yet forgiven.
+      Lately, however, prompted by curiosity or by remorse, he had asked her to
+      spend a week or so of his declining years with him. And she, &ldquo;resting&rdquo;
+       between two engagements&mdash;one at Hammerstein&rsquo;s Victoria, N.Y.C., the
+      other at the Folies Bergeres, Paris&mdash;and having never been in Oxford,
+      had so far let bygones be bygones as to come and gratify the old man&rsquo;s
+      whim.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It may be that she still resented his indifference to those early
+      struggles which, even now, she shuddered to recall. For a governess&rsquo; life
+      she had been, indeed, notably unfit. Hard she had thought it, that penury
+      should force her back into the school-room she was scarce out of, there to
+      champion the sums and maps and conjugations she had never tried to master.
+      Hating her work, she had failed signally to pick up any learning from her
+      little pupils, and had been driven from house to house, a sullen and most
+      ineffectual maiden. The sequence of her situations was the swifter by
+      reason of her pretty face. Was there a grown-up son, always he fell in
+      love with her, and she would let his eyes trifle boldly with hers across
+      the dinner-table. When he offered her his hand, she would refuse it&mdash;not
+      because she &ldquo;knew her place,&rdquo; but because she did not love him. Even had
+      she been a good teacher, her presence could not have been tolerated
+      thereafter. Her corded trunk, heavier by another packet of billets-doux
+      and a month&rsquo;s salary in advance, was soon carried up the stairs of some
+      other house.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It chanced that she came, at length, to be governess in a large family
+      that had Gibbs for its name and Notting Hill for its background. Edward,
+      the eldest son, was a clerk in the city, who spent his evenings in the
+      practice of amateur conjuring. He was a freckled youth, with hair that
+      bristled in places where it should have lain smooth, and he fell in love
+      with Zuleika duly, at first sight, during high-tea. In the course of the
+      evening, he sought to win her admiration by a display of all his tricks.
+      These were familiar to this household, and the children had been sent to
+      bed, the mother was dozing, long before the seance was at an end. But Miss
+      Dobson, unaccustomed to any gaieties, sat fascinated by the young man&rsquo;s
+      sleight of hand, marvelling that a top-hat could hold so many goldfish,
+      and a handkerchief turn so swiftly into a silver florin. All that night,
+      she lay wide awake, haunted by the miracles he had wrought. Next evening,
+      when she asked him to repeat them, &ldquo;Nay,&rdquo; he whispered, &ldquo;I cannot bear to
+      deceive the girl I love. Permit me to explain the tricks.&rdquo; So he explained
+      them. His eyes sought hers across the bowl of gold-fish, his fingers
+      trembled as he taught her to manipulate the magic canister. One by one,
+      she mastered the paltry secrets. Her respect for him waned with every
+      revelation. He complimented her on her skill. &ldquo;I could not do it more
+      neatly myself!&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Oh, dear Miss Dobson, will you but accept my
+      hand, all these things shall be yours&mdash;the cards, the canister, the
+      goldfish, the demon egg-cup&mdash;all yours!&rdquo; Zuleika, with ravishing
+      coyness, answered that if he would give her them now, she would &ldquo;think it
+      over.&rdquo; The swain consented, and at bed-time she retired with the gift
+      under her arm. In the light of her bedroom candle Marguerite hung not in
+      greater ecstasy over the jewel-casket than hung Zuleika over the box of
+      tricks. She clasped her hands over the tremendous possibilities it held
+      for her&mdash;manumission from her bondage, wealth, fame, power.
+      Stealthily, so soon as the house slumbered, she packed her small outfit,
+      embedding therein the precious gift. Noiselessly, she shut the lid of her
+      trunk, corded it, shouldered it, stole down the stairs with it. Outside&mdash;how
+      that chain had grated! and her shoulder, how it was aching!&mdash;she soon
+      found a cab. She took a night&rsquo;s sanctuary in some railway-hotel. Next day,
+      she moved into a small room in a lodging-house off the Edgware Road, and
+      there for a whole week she was sedulous in the practice of her tricks.
+      Then she inscribed her name on the books of a &ldquo;Juvenile Party
+      Entertainments Agency.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Christmas holidays were at hand, and before long she got an
+      engagement. It was a great evening for her. Her repertory was, it must be
+      confessed, old and obvious; but the children, in deference to their
+      hostess, pretended not to know how the tricks were done, and assumed their
+      prettiest airs of wonder and delight. One of them even pretended to be
+      frightened, and was led howling from the room. In fact, the whole thing
+      went off splendidly. The hostess was charmed, and told Zuleika that a
+      glass of lemonade would be served to her in the hall. Other engagements
+      soon followed. Zuleika was very, very happy. I cannot claim for her that
+      she had a genuine passion for her art. The true conjurer finds his guerdon
+      in the consciousness of work done perfectly and for its own sake. Lucre
+      and applause are not necessary to him. If he were set down, with the
+      materials of his art, on a desert island, he would yet be quite happy. He
+      would not cease to produce the barber&rsquo;s-pole from his mouth. To the
+      indifferent winds he would still speak his patter, and even in the last
+      throes of starvation would not eat his live rabbit or his gold-fish.
+      Zuleika, on a desert island, would have spent most of her time in looking
+      for a man&rsquo;s foot-print. She was, indeed, far too human a creature to care
+      much for art. I do not say that she took her work lightly. She thought she
+      had genius, and she liked to be told that this was so. But mainly she
+      loved her work as a means of mere self-display. The frank admiration
+      which, into whatsoever house she entered, the grown-up sons flashed on
+      her; their eagerness to see her to the door; their impressive way of
+      putting her into her omnibus&mdash;these were the things she revelled in.
+      She was a nymph to whom men&rsquo;s admiration was the greater part of life. By
+      day, whenever she went into the streets, she was conscious that no man
+      passed her without a stare; and this consciousness gave a sharp zest to
+      her outings. Sometimes she was followed to her door&mdash;crude flattery
+      which she was too innocent to fear. Even when she went into the
+      haberdasher&rsquo;s to make some little purchase of tape or riband, or into the
+      grocer&rsquo;s&mdash;for she was an epicure in her humble way&mdash;to buy a tin
+      of potted meat for her supper, the homage of the young men behind the
+      counter did flatter and exhilarate her. As the homage of men became for
+      her, more and more, a matter of course, the more subtly necessary was it
+      to her happiness. The more she won of it, the more she treasured it. She
+      was alone in the world, and it saved her from any moment of regret that
+      she had neither home nor friends. For her the streets that lay around her
+      had no squalor, since she paced them always in the gold nimbus of her
+      fascinations. Her bedroom seemed not mean nor lonely to her, since the
+      little square of glass, nailed above the wash-stand, was ever there to
+      reflect her face. Thereinto, indeed, she was ever peering. She would droop
+      her head from side to side, she would bend it forward and see herself from
+      beneath her eyelashes, then tilt it back and watch herself over her
+      supercilious chin. And she would smile, frown, pout, languish&mdash;let
+      all the emotions hover upon her face; and always she seemed to herself
+      lovelier than she had ever been.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Yet was there nothing Narcissine in her spirit. Her love for her own image
+      was not cold aestheticism. She valued that image not for its own sake, but
+      for sake of the glory it always won for her. In the little remote
+      music-hall, where she was soon appearing nightly as an &ldquo;early turn,&rdquo; she
+      reaped glory in a nightly harvest. She could feel that all the
+      gallery-boys, because of her, were scornful of the sweethearts wedged
+      between them, and she knew that she had but to say &ldquo;Will any gentleman in
+      the audience be so good as to lend me his hat?&rdquo; for the stalls to rise as
+      one man and rush towards the platform. But greater things were in store
+      for her. She was engaged at two halls in the West End. Her horizon was
+      fast receding and expanding. Homage became nightly tangible in bouquets,
+      rings, brooches&mdash;things acceptable and (luckier than their donors)
+      accepted. Even Sunday was not barren for Zuleika: modish hostesses gave
+      her postprandially to their guests. Came that Sunday night, notanda
+      candidissimo calculo! when she received certain guttural compliments which
+      made absolute her vogue and enabled her to command, thenceforth, whatever
+      terms she asked for.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Already, indeed, she was rich. She was living at the most exorbitant hotel
+      in all Mayfair. She had innumerable gowns and no necessity to buy jewels;
+      and she also had, which pleased her most, the fine cheval-glass I have
+      described. At the close of the Season, Paris claimed her for a month&rsquo;s
+      engagement. Paris saw her and was prostrate. Boldini did a portrait of
+      her. Jules Bloch wrote a song about her; and this, for a whole month, was
+      howled up and down the cobbled alleys of Montmartre. And all the little
+      dandies were mad for &ldquo;la Zuleika.&rdquo; The jewellers of the Rue de la Paix
+      soon had nothing left to put in their windows&mdash;everything had been
+      bought for &ldquo;la Zuleika.&rdquo; For a whole month, baccarat was not played at the
+      Jockey Club&mdash;every member had succumbed to a nobler passion. For a
+      whole month, the whole demi-monde was forgotten for one English virgin.
+      Never, even in Paris, had a woman triumphed so. When the day came for her
+      departure, the city wore such an air of sullen mourning as it had not worn
+      since the Prussians marched to its Elysee. Zuleika, quite untouched, would
+      not linger in the conquered city. Agents had come to her from every
+      capital in Europe, and, for a year, she ranged, in triumphal nomady, from
+      one capital to another. In Berlin, every night, the students escorted her
+      home with torches. Prince Vierfuenfsechs-Siebenachtneun offered her his
+      hand, and was condemned by the Kaiser to six months&rsquo; confinement in his
+      little castle. In Yildiz Kiosk, the tyrant who still throve there
+      conferred on her the Order of Chastity, and offered her the central couch
+      in his seraglio. She gave her performance in the Quirinal, and, from the
+      Vatican, the Pope launched against her a Bull which fell utterly flat. In
+      Petersburg, the Grand Duke Salamander Salamandrovitch fell enamoured of
+      her. Of every article in the apparatus of her conjuring-tricks he caused a
+      replica to be made in finest gold. These treasures he presented to her in
+      that great malachite casket which now stood on the little table in her
+      room; and thenceforth it was with these that she performed her wonders.
+      They did not mark the limit of the Grand Duke&rsquo;s generosity. He was for
+      bestowing on Zuleika the half of his immensurable estates. The Grand
+      Duchess appealed to the Tzar. Zuleika was conducted across the frontier,
+      by an escort of love-sick Cossacks. On the Sunday before she left Madrid,
+      a great bull-fight was held in her honour. Fifteen bulls received the
+      coup-de-grace, and Alvarez, the matador of matadors, died in the arena
+      with her name on his lips. He had tried to kill the last bull without
+      taking his eyes off la divina senorita. A prettier compliment had never
+      been paid her, and she was immensely pleased with it. For that matter, she
+      was immensely pleased with everything. She moved proudly to the incessant
+      music of a paean, aye! of a paean that was always crescendo.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Its echoes followed her when she crossed the Atlantic, till they were lost
+      in the louder, deeper, more blatant paean that rose for her from the
+      shores beyond. All the stops of that &ldquo;mighty organ, many-piped,&rdquo; the New
+      York press, were pulled out simultaneously, as far as they could be
+      pulled, in Zuleika&rsquo;s honour. She delighted in the din. She read every line
+      that was printed about her, tasting her triumph as she had never tasted it
+      before. And how she revelled in the Brobdingnagian drawings of her, which,
+      printed in nineteen colours, towered between the columns or sprawled
+      across them! There she was, measuring herself back to back with the Statue
+      of Liberty; scudding through the firmament on a comet, whilst a crowd of
+      tiny men in evening-dress stared up at her from the terrestrial globe;
+      peering through a microscope held by Cupid over a diminutive Uncle Sam;
+      teaching the American Eagle to stand on its head; and doing a
+      hundred-and-one other things&mdash;whatever suggested itself to the fancy
+      of native art. And through all this iridescent maze of symbolism were
+      scattered many little slabs of realism. At home, on the street, Zuleika
+      was the smiling target of all snap-shooters, and all the snap-shots were
+      snapped up by the press and reproduced with annotations: Zuleika Dobson
+      walking on Broadway in the sables gifted her by Grand Duke Salamander&mdash;she
+      says &ldquo;You can bounce blizzards in them&rdquo;; Zuleika Dobson yawning over a
+      love-letter from millionaire Edelweiss; relishing a cup of clam-broth&mdash;she
+      says &ldquo;They don&rsquo;t use clams out there&rdquo;; ordering her maid to fix her a warm
+      bath; finding a split in the gloves she has just drawn on before starting
+      for the musicale given in her honour by Mrs. Suetonius X. Meistersinger,
+      the most exclusive woman in New York; chatting at the telephone to Miss
+      Camille Van Spook, the best-born girl in New York; laughing over the
+      recollection of a compliment made her by George Abimelech Post, the
+      best-groomed man in New York; meditating a new trick; admonishing a waiter
+      who has upset a cocktail over her skirt; having herself manicured;
+      drinking tea in bed. Thus was Zuleika enabled daily to be, as one might
+      say, a spectator of her own wonderful life. On her departure from New
+      York, the papers spoke no more than the truth when they said she had had
+      &ldquo;a lovely time.&rdquo; The further she went West&mdash;millionaire Edelweiss had
+      loaned her his private car&mdash;the lovelier her time was. Chicago
+      drowned the echoes of New York; final Frisco dwarfed the headlines of
+      Chicago. Like one of its own prairie-fires, she swept the country from end
+      to end. Then she swept back, and sailed for England. She was to return for
+      a second season in the coming Fall. At present, she was, as I have said,
+      &ldquo;resting.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As she sat here in the bay-window of her room, she was not reviewing the
+      splendid pageant of her past. She was a young person whose reveries never
+      were in retrospect. For her the past was no treasury of distinct memories,
+      all hoarded and classified, some brighter than others and more highly
+      valued. All memories were for her but as the motes in one fused radiance
+      that followed her and made more luminous the pathway of her future. She
+      was always looking forward. She was looking forward now&mdash;that shade
+      of ennui had passed from her face&mdash;to the week she was to spend in
+      Oxford. A new city was a new toy to her, and&mdash;for it was youth&rsquo;s
+      homage that she loved best&mdash;this city of youths was a toy after her
+      own heart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Aye, and it was youths who gave homage to her most freely. She was of that
+      high-stepping and flamboyant type that captivates youth most surely. Old
+      men and men of middle age admired her, but she had not that flower-like
+      quality of shyness and helplessness, that look of innocence, so dear to
+      men who carry life&rsquo;s secrets in their heads. Yet Zuleika WAS very
+      innocent, really. She was as pure as that young shepherdess Marcella, who,
+      all unguarded, roved the mountains and was by all the shepherds adored.
+      Like Marcella, she had given her heart to no man, had preferred none.
+      Youths were reputed to have died for love of her, as Chrysostom died for
+      love of the shepherdess; and she, like the shepherdess, had shed no tear.
+      When Chrysostom was lying on his bier in the valley, and Marcella looked
+      down from the high rock, Ambrosio, the dead man&rsquo;s comrade, cried out on
+      her, upbraiding her with bitter words&mdash;&ldquo;Oh basilisk of our
+      mountains!&rdquo; Nor do I think Ambrosio spoke too strongly. Marcella cared
+      nothing for men&rsquo;s admiration, and yet, instead of retiring to one of those
+      nunneries which are founded for her kind, she chose to rove the mountains,
+      causing despair to all the shepherds. Zuleika, with her peculiar
+      temperament, would have gone mad in a nunnery. &ldquo;But,&rdquo; you may argue,
+      &ldquo;ought not she to have taken the veil, even at the cost of her reason,
+      rather than cause so much despair in the world? If Marcella was a
+      basilisk, as you seem to think, how about Miss Dobson?&rdquo; Ah, but Marcella
+      knew quite well, boasted even, that she never would or could love any man.
+      Zuleika, on the other hand, was a woman of really passionate fibre. She
+      may not have had that conscious, separate, and quite explicit desire to be
+      a mother with which modern playwrights credit every unmated member of her
+      sex. But she did know that she could love. And, surely, no woman who knows
+      that of herself can be rightly censured for not recluding herself from the
+      world: it is only women without the power to love who have no right to
+      provoke men&rsquo;s love.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Though Zuleika had never given her heart, strong in her were the desire
+      and the need that it should be given. Whithersoever she had fared, she had
+      seen nothing but youths fatuously prostrate to her&mdash;not one upright
+      figure which she could respect. There were the middle-aged men, the old
+      men, who did not bow down to her; but from middle-age, as from eld, she
+      had a sanguine aversion. She could love none but a youth. Nor&mdash;though
+      she herself, womanly, would utterly abase herself before her ideal&mdash;could
+      she love one who fell prone before her. And before her all youths always
+      did fall prone. She was an empress, and all youths were her slaves. Their
+      bondage delighted her, as I have said. But no empress who has any pride
+      can adore one of her slaves. Whom, then, could proud Zuleika adore? It was
+      a question which sometimes troubled her. There were even moments when,
+      looking into her cheval-glass, she cried out against that arrangement in
+      comely lines and tints which got for her the dulia she delighted in. To be
+      able to love once&mdash;would not that be better than all the homage in
+      the world? But would she ever meet whom, looking up to him, she could love&mdash;she,
+      the omnisubjugant? Would she ever, ever meet him?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was when she wondered thus, that the wistfulness came into her eyes.
+      Even now, as she sat by the window, that shadow returned to them. She was
+      wondering, shyly, had she met him at length? That young equestrian who had
+      not turned to look at her; whom she was to meet at dinner to-night... was
+      it he? The ends of her blue sash lay across her lap, and she was lazily
+      unravelling their fringes. &ldquo;Blue and white!&rdquo; she remembered. &ldquo;They were
+      the colours he wore round his hat.&rdquo; And she gave a little laugh of
+      coquetry. She laughed, and, long after, her lips were still parted in a
+      smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So did she sit, smiling, wondering, with the fringes of her sash between
+      her fingers, while the sun sank behind the opposite wall of the
+      quadrangle, and the shadows crept out across the grass, thirsty for the
+      dew.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      III
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      The clock in the Warden&rsquo;s drawing-room had just struck eight, and already
+      the ducal feet were beautiful on the white bearskin hearthrug. So slim and
+      long were they, of instep so nobly arched, that only with a pair of glazed
+      ox-tongues on a breakfast-table were they comparable. Incomparable quite,
+      the figure and face and vesture of him who ended in them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Warden was talking to him, with all the deference of elderly commoner
+      to patrician boy. The other guests&mdash;an Oriel don and his wife&mdash;were
+      listening with earnest smile and submissive droop, at a slight distance.
+      Now and again, to put themselves at their ease, they exchanged in
+      undertone a word or two about the weather.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The young lady whom you may have noticed with me,&rdquo; the Warden was saying,
+      &ldquo;is my orphaned grand-daughter.&rdquo; (The wife of the Oriel don discarded her
+      smile, and sighed, with a glance at the Duke, who was himself an orphan.)
+      &ldquo;She has come to stay with me.&rdquo; (The Duke glanced quickly round the room.)
+      &ldquo;I cannot think why she is not down yet.&rdquo; (The Oriel don fixed his eyes on
+      the clock, as though he suspected it of being fast.) &ldquo;I must ask you to
+      forgive her. She appears to be a bright, pleasant young woman.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Married?&rdquo; asked the Duke.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; said the Warden; and a cloud of annoyance crossed the boy&rsquo;s face.
+      &ldquo;No; she devotes her life entirely to good works.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A hospital nurse?&rdquo; the Duke murmured.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, Zuleika&rsquo;s appointed task is to induce delightful wonder rather than
+      to alleviate pain. She performs conjuring-tricks.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not&mdash;not Miss Zuleika Dobson?&rdquo; cried the Duke.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah yes. I forgot that she had achieved some fame in the outer world.
+      Perhaps she has already met you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never,&rdquo; said the young man coldly. &ldquo;But of course I have heard of Miss
+      Dobson. I did not know she was related to you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Duke had an intense horror of unmarried girls. All his vacations were
+      spent in eluding them and their chaperons. That he should be confronted
+      with one of them&mdash;with such an one of them!&mdash;in Oxford, seemed
+      to him sheer violation of sanctuary. The tone, therefore, in which he said
+      &ldquo;I shall be charmed,&rdquo; in answer to the Warden&rsquo;s request that he would take
+      Zuleika into dinner, was very glacial. So was his gaze when, a moment
+      later, the young lady made her entry.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She did not look like an orphan,&rdquo; said the wife of the Oriel don,
+      subsequently, on the way home. The criticism was a just one. Zuleika would
+      have looked singular in one of those lowly double-files of straw-bonnets
+      and drab cloaks which are so steadying a feature of our social system.
+      Tall and lissom, she was sheathed from the bosom downwards in flamingo
+      silk, and she was liberally festooned with emeralds. Her dark hair was not
+      even strained back from her forehead and behind her ears, as an orphan&rsquo;s
+      should be. Parted somewhere at the side, it fell in an avalanche of curls
+      upon one eyebrow. From her right ear drooped heavily a black pearl, from
+      her left a pink; and their difference gave an odd, bewildering witchery to
+      the little face between.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Was the young Duke bewitched? Instantly, utterly. But none could have
+      guessed as much from his cold stare, his easy and impassive bow.
+      Throughout dinner, none guessed that his shirt-front was but the screen of
+      a fierce warfare waged between pride and passion. Zuleika, at the foot of
+      the table, fondly supposed him indifferent to her. Though he sat on her
+      right, not one word or glance would he give her. All his conversation was
+      addressed to the unassuming lady who sat on his other side, next to the
+      Warden. Her he edified and flustered beyond measure by his insistent
+      courtesy. Her husband, alone on the other side of the table, was mortified
+      by his utter failure to engage Zuleika in small-talk. Zuleika was sitting
+      with her profile turned to him&mdash;the profile with the pink pearl&mdash;and
+      was gazing full at the young Duke. She was hardly more affable than a
+      cameo. &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; &ldquo;No,&rdquo; &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know,&rdquo; were the only answers she would
+      vouchsafe to his questions. A vague &ldquo;Oh really?&rdquo; was all he got for his
+      timid little offerings of information. In vain he started the topic of
+      modern conjuring-tricks as compared with the conjuring-tricks performed by
+      the ancient Egyptians. Zuleika did not even say &ldquo;Oh really?&rdquo; when he told
+      her about the metamorphosis of the bulls in the Temple of Osiris. He
+      primed himself with a glass of sherry, cleared his throat. &ldquo;And what,&rdquo; he
+      asked, with a note of firmness, &ldquo;did you think of our cousins across the
+      water?&rdquo; Zuleika said &ldquo;Yes;&rdquo; and then he gave in. Nor was she conscious
+      that he ceased talking to her. At intervals throughout the rest of dinner,
+      she murmured &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; and &ldquo;No,&rdquo; and &ldquo;Oh really?&rdquo; though the poor little don
+      was now listening silently to the Duke and the Warden.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She was in a trance of sheer happiness. At last, she thought, her hope was
+      fulfilled&mdash;that hope which, although she had seldom remembered it in
+      the joy of her constant triumphs, had been always lurking in her, lying
+      near to her heart and chafing her, like the shift of sackcloth which that
+      young brilliant girl, loved and lost of Giacopone di Todi, wore always in
+      secret submission to her own soul, under the fair soft robes and the
+      rubies men saw on her. At last, here was the youth who would not bow down
+      to her; whom, looking up to him, she could adore. She ate and drank
+      automatically, never taking her gaze from him. She felt not one touch of
+      pique at his behaviour. She was tremulous with a joy that was new to her,
+      greater than any joy she had known. Her soul was as a flower in its
+      opetide. She was in love. Rapt, she studied every lineament of the pale
+      and perfect face&mdash;the brow from which bronze-coloured hair rose in
+      tiers of burnished ripples; the large steel-coloured eyes, with their
+      carven lids; the carven nose, and the plastic lips. She noted how long and
+      slim were his fingers, and how slender his wrists. She noted the glint
+      cast by the candles upon his shirt-front. The two large white pearls there
+      seemed to her symbols of his nature. They were like two moons: cold,
+      remote, radiant. Even when she gazed at the Duke&rsquo;s face, she was aware of
+      them in her vision.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Nor was the Duke unconscious, as he seemed to be, of her scrutiny. Though
+      he kept his head averse, he knew that always her eyes were watching him.
+      Obliquely, he saw them; saw, too, the contour of the face, and the black
+      pearl and the pink; could not blind himself, try as he would. And he knew
+      that he was in love.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Like Zuleika herself, this young Duke was in love for the first time.
+      Wooed though he had been by almost as many maidens as she by youths, his
+      heart, like hers, had remained cold. But he had never felt, as she had,
+      the desire to love. He was not now rejoicing, as she was, in the sensation
+      of first love; nay, he was furiously mortified by it, and struggled with
+      all his might against it. He had always fancied himself secure against any
+      so vulgar peril; always fancied that by him at least, the proud old motto
+      of his family&mdash;&ldquo;Pas si bete&rdquo;&mdash;would not be belied. And I
+      daresay, indeed, that had he never met Zuleika, the irresistible, he would
+      have lived, and at a very ripe old age died, a dandy without reproach. For
+      in him the dandiacal temper had been absolute hitherto, quite untainted
+      and unruffled. He was too much concerned with his own perfection ever to
+      think of admiring any one else. Different from Zuleika, he cared for his
+      wardrobe and his toilet-table not as a means to making others admire him
+      the more, but merely as a means through which he could intensify, a ritual
+      in which to express and realise, his own idolatry. At Eton he had been
+      called &ldquo;Peacock,&rdquo; and this nick-name had followed him up to Oxford. It was
+      not wholly apposite, however. For, whereas the peacock is a fool even
+      among birds, the Duke had already taken (besides a particularly brilliant
+      First in Mods) the Stanhope, the Newdigate, the Lothian, and the Gaisford
+      Prize for Greek Verse. And these things he had achieved currente calamo,
+      &ldquo;wielding his pen,&rdquo; as Scott said of Byron, &ldquo;with the easy negligence of a
+      nobleman.&rdquo; He was now in his third year of residence, and was reading, a
+      little, for Literae Humaniores. There is no doubt that but for his
+      untimely death he would have taken a particularly brilliant First in that
+      school also.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For the rest, he had many accomplishments. He was adroit in the killing of
+      all birds and fishes, stags and foxes. He played polo, cricket, racquets,
+      chess, and billiards as well as such things can be played. He was fluent
+      in all modern languages, had a very real talent in water-colour, and was
+      accounted, by those who had had the privilege of hearing him, the best
+      amateur pianist on this side of the Tweed. Little wonder, then, that he
+      was idolised by the undergraduates of his day. He did not, however, honour
+      many of them with his friendship. He had a theoretic liking for them as a
+      class, as the &ldquo;young barbarians all at play&rdquo; in that little antique city;
+      but individually they jarred on him, and he saw little of them. Yet he
+      sympathised with them always, and, on occasion, would actively take their
+      part against the dons. In the middle of his second year, he had gone so
+      far that a College Meeting had to be held, and he was sent down for the
+      rest of term. The Warden placed his own landau at the disposal of the
+      illustrious young exile, who therein was driven to the station, followed
+      by a long, vociferous procession of undergraduates in cabs. Now, it
+      happened that this was a time of political excitement in London. The
+      Liberals, who were in power, had passed through the House of Commons a
+      measure more than usually socialistic; and this measure was down for its
+      second reading in the Lords on the very day that the Duke left Oxford, an
+      exile. It was but a few weeks since he had taken his seat in the Lords;
+      and this afternoon, for the want of anything better to do, he strayed in.
+      The Leader of the House was already droning his speech for the bill, and
+      the Duke found himself on one of the opposite benches. There sat his
+      compeers, sullenly waiting to vote for a bill which every one of them
+      detested. As the speaker subsided, the Duke, for the fun of the thing,
+      rose. He made a long speech against the bill. His gibes at the Government
+      were so scathing, so utterly destructive his criticism of the bill itself,
+      so lofty and so irresistible the flights of his eloquence, that, when he
+      resumed his seat, there was only one course left to the Leader of the
+      House. He rose and, in a few husky phrases, moved that the bill &ldquo;be read
+      this day six months.&rdquo; All England rang with the name of the young Duke. He
+      himself seemed to be the one person unmoved by his exploit. He did not
+      re-appear in the Upper Chamber, and was heard to speak in slighting terms
+      of its architecture, as well as of its upholstery. Nevertheless, the Prime
+      Minister became so nervous that he procured for him, a month later, the
+      Sovereign&rsquo;s offer of a Garter which had just fallen vacant. The Duke
+      accepted it. He was, I understand, the only undergraduate on whom this
+      Order had ever been conferred. He was very much pleased with the insignia,
+      and when, on great occasions, he wore them, no one dared say that the
+      Prime Minister&rsquo;s choice was not fully justified. But you must not imagine
+      that he cared for them as symbols of achievement and power. The dark blue
+      riband, and the star scintillating to eight points, the heavy mantle of
+      blue velvet, with its lining of taffeta and shoulder-knots of white satin,
+      the crimson surcoat, the great embullioned tassels, and the chain of
+      linked gold, and the plumes of ostrich and heron uprising from the black
+      velvet hat&mdash;these things had for him little significance save as a
+      fine setting, a finer setting than the most elaborate smoking-suit, for
+      that perfection of aspect which the gods had given him. This was indeed
+      the gift he valued beyond all others. He knew well, however, that women
+      care little for a man&rsquo;s appearance, and that what they seek in a man is
+      strength of character, and rank, and wealth. These three gifts the Duke
+      had in a high degree, and he was by women much courted because of them.
+      Conscious that every maiden he met was eager to be his Duchess, he had
+      assumed always a manner of high austerity among maidens, and even if he
+      had wished to flirt with Zuleika he would hardly have known how to do it.
+      But he did not wish to flirt with her. That she had bewitched him did but
+      make it the more needful that he should shun all converse with her. It was
+      imperative that he should banish her from his mind, quickly. He must not
+      dilute his own soul&rsquo;s essence. He must not surrender to any passion his
+      dandihood. The dandy must be celibate, cloistral; is, indeed, but a monk
+      with a mirror for beads and breviary&mdash;an anchorite, mortifying his
+      soul that his body may be perfect. Till he met Zuleika, the Duke had not
+      known the meaning of temptation. He fought now, a St. Anthony, against the
+      apparition. He would not look at her, and he hated her. He loved her, and
+      he could not help seeing her. The black pearl and the pink seemed to
+      dangle ever nearer and clearer to him, mocking him and beguiling.
+      Inexpellible was her image.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So fierce was the conflict in him that his outward nonchalance gradually
+      gave way. As dinner drew to its close, his conversation with the wife of
+      the Oriel don flagged and halted. He sank, at length, into a deep silence.
+      He sat with downcast eyes, utterly distracted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Suddenly, something fell, plump! into the dark whirlpool of his thoughts.
+      He started. The Warden was leaning forward, had just said something to
+      him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I beg your pardon?&rdquo; asked the Duke. Dessert, he noticed, was on the
+      table, and he was paring an apple. The Oriel don was looking at him with
+      sympathy, as at one who had swooned and was just &ldquo;coming to.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is it true, my dear Duke,&rdquo; the Warden repeated, &ldquo;that you have been
+      persuaded to play to-morrow evening at the Judas concert?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah yes, I am going to play something.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Zuleika bent suddenly forward, addressed him. &ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; she cried, clasping
+      her hands beneath her chin, &ldquo;will you let me come and turn over the leaves
+      for you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He looked her full in the face. It was like seeing suddenly at close
+      quarters some great bright monument that one has long known only as a
+      sun-caught speck in the distance. He saw the large violet eyes open to
+      him, and their lashes curling to him; the vivid parted lips; and the black
+      pearl, and the pink.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are very kind,&rdquo; he murmured, in a voice which sounded to him quite
+      far away. &ldquo;But I always play without notes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Zuleika blushed. Not with shame, but with delirious pleasure. For that
+      snub she would just then have bartered all the homage she had hoarded.
+      This, she felt, was the climax. She would not outstay it. She rose,
+      smiling to the wife of the Oriel don. Every one rose. The Oriel don held
+      open the door, and the two ladies passed out of the room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Duke drew out his cigarette case. As he looked down at the cigarettes,
+      he was vaguely conscious of some strange phenomenon somewhere between them
+      and his eyes. Foredone by the agitation of the past hour, he did not at
+      once realise what it was that he saw. His impression was of something in
+      bad taste, some discord in his costume ... a black pearl and a pink pearl
+      in his shirt-front!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Just for a moment, absurdly over-estimating poor Zuleika&rsquo;s skill, he
+      supposed himself a victim of legerdemain. Another moment, and the import
+      of the studs revealed itself. He staggered up from his chair, covering his
+      breast with one arm, and murmured that he was faint. As he hurried from
+      the room, the Oriel don was pouring out a tumbler of water and suggesting
+      burnt feathers. The Warden, solicitous, followed him into the hall. He
+      snatched up his hat, gasping that he had spent a delightful evening&mdash;was
+      very sorry&mdash;was subject to these attacks. Once outside, he took
+      frankly to his heels.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At the corner of the Broad, he looked back over his shoulder. He had half
+      expected a scarlet figure skimming in pursuit. There was nothing. He
+      halted. Before him, the Broad lay empty beneath the moon. He went slowly,
+      mechanically, to his rooms.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The high grim busts of the Emperors stared down at him, their faces more
+      than ever tragically cavernous and distorted. They saw and read in that
+      moonlight the symbols on his breast. As he stood on his doorstep, waiting
+      for the door to be opened, he must have seemed to them a thing for
+      infinite compassion. For were they not privy to the doom that the morrow,
+      or the morrow&rsquo;s morrow, held for him&mdash;held not indeed for him alone,
+      yet for him especially, as it were, and for him most lamentably?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      IV
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      The breakfast-things were not yet cleared away. A plate streaked with fine
+      strains of marmalade, an empty toast-rack, a broken roll&mdash;these and
+      other things bore witness to a day inaugurated in the right spirit.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Away from them, reclining along his window-seat, was the Duke. Blue
+      spirals rose from his cigarette, nothing in the still air to trouble them.
+      From their railing, across the road, the Emperors gazed at him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For a young man, sleep is a sure solvent of distress. There whirls not for
+      him in the night any so hideous a phantasmagoria as will not become, in
+      the clarity of next morning, a spruce procession for him to lead. Brief
+      the vague horror of his awakening; memory sweeps back to him, and he sees
+      nothing dreadful after all. &ldquo;Why not?&rdquo; is the sun&rsquo;s bright message to him,
+      and &ldquo;Why not indeed?&rdquo; his answer. After hours of agony and doubt prolonged
+      to cock-crow, sleep had stolen to the Duke&rsquo;s bed-side. He awoke late, with
+      a heavy sense of disaster; but lo! when he remembered, everything took on
+      a new aspect. He was in love. &ldquo;Why not?&rdquo; He mocked himself for the morbid
+      vigil he had spent in probing and vainly binding the wounds of his false
+      pride. The old life was done with. He laughed as he stepped into his bath.
+      Why should the disseizin of his soul have seemed shameful to him? He had
+      had no soul till it passed out of his keeping. His body thrilled to the
+      cold water, his soul as to a new sacrament. He was in love, and that was
+      all he wished for... There, on the dressing-table, lay the two studs,
+      visible symbols of his love. Dear to him, now, the colours of them! He
+      took them in his hand, one by one, fondling them. He wished he could wear
+      them in the day-time; but this, of course, was impossible. His toilet
+      finished, he dropped them into the left pocket of his waistcoat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Therein, near to his heart, they were lying now, as he looked out at the
+      changed world&mdash;the world that had become Zuleika. &ldquo;Zuleika!&rdquo; his
+      recurrent murmur, was really an apostrophe to the whole world.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Piled against the wall were certain boxes of black japanned tin, which had
+      just been sent to him from London. At any other time he would certainly
+      not have left them unopened. For they contained his robes of the Garter.
+      Thursday, the day after to-morrow, was the date fixed for the investiture
+      of a foreign king who was now visiting England: and the full chapter of
+      Knights had been commanded to Windsor for the ceremony. Yesterday the Duke
+      had looked keenly forward to his excursion. It was only in those too
+      rarely required robes that he had the sense of being fully dressed. But
+      to-day not a thought had he of them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Some clock clove with silver the stillness of the morning. Ere came the
+      second stroke, another and nearer clock was striking. And now there were
+      others chiming in. The air was confused with the sweet babel of its many
+      spires, some of them booming deep, measured sequences, some tinkling
+      impatiently and outwitting others which had begun before them. And when
+      this anthem of jealous antiphonies and uneven rhythms had dwindled quite
+      away and fainted in one last solitary note of silver, there started
+      somewhere another sequence; and this, almost at its last stroke, was
+      interrupted by yet another, which went on to tell the hour of noon in its
+      own way, quite slowly and significantly, as though none knew it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And now Oxford was astir with footsteps and laughter&mdash;the laughter
+      and quick footsteps of youths released from lecture-rooms. The Duke
+      shifted from the window. Somehow, he did not care to be observed, though
+      it was usually at this hour that he showed himself for the setting of some
+      new fashion in costume. Many an undergraduate, looking up, missed the
+      picture in the window-frame.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Duke paced to and fro, smiling ecstatically. He took the two studs
+      from his pocket and gazed at them. He looked in the glass, as one seeking
+      the sympathy of a familiar. For the first time in his life, he turned
+      impatiently aside. It was a new kind of sympathy he needed to-day.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The front door slammed, and the staircase creaked to the ascent of two
+      heavy boots. The Duke listened, waited irresolute. The boots passed his
+      door, were already clumping up the next flight. &ldquo;Noaks!&rdquo; he cried. The
+      boots paused, then clumped down again. The door opened and disclosed that
+      homely figure which Zuleika had seen on her way to Judas.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sensitive reader, start not at the apparition! Oxford is a plexus of
+      anomalies. These two youths were (odd as it may seem to you) subject to
+      the same Statutes, affiliated to the same College, reading for the same
+      School; aye! and though the one had inherited half a score of noble and
+      castellated roofs, whose mere repairs cost him annually thousands and
+      thousands of pounds, and the other&rsquo;s people had but one little mean square
+      of lead, from which the fireworks of the Crystal Palace were clearly
+      visible every Thursday evening, in Oxford one roof sheltered both of them.
+      Furthermore, there was even some measure of intimacy between them. It was
+      the Duke&rsquo;s whim to condescend further in the direction of Noaks than in
+      any other. He saw in Noaks his own foil and antithesis, and made a point
+      of walking up the High with him at least once in every term. Noaks, for
+      his part, regarded the Duke with feelings mingled of idolatry and
+      disapproval. The Duke&rsquo;s First in Mods oppressed him (who, by dint of
+      dogged industry, had scraped a Second) more than all the other differences
+      between them. But the dullard&rsquo;s envy of brilliant men is always assuaged
+      by the suspicion that they will come to a bad end. Noaks may have regarded
+      the Duke as a rather pathetic figure, on the whole.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come in, Noaks,&rdquo; said the Duke. &ldquo;You have been to a lecture?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Aristotle&rsquo;s Politics,&rdquo; nodded Noaks.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And what were they?&rdquo; asked the Duke. He was eager for sympathy in his
+      love. But so little used was he to seeking sympathy that he could not
+      unburden himself. He temporised. Noaks muttered something about getting
+      back to work, and fumbled with the door-handle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, my dear fellow, don&rsquo;t go,&rdquo; said the Duke. &ldquo;Sit down. Our Schools
+      don&rsquo;t come on for another year. A few minutes can&rsquo;t make a difference in
+      your Class. I want to&mdash;to tell you something, Noaks. Do sit down.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Noaks sat down on the edge of a chair. The Duke leaned against the
+      mantel-piece, facing him. &ldquo;I suppose, Noaks,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;you have never
+      been in love.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why shouldn&rsquo;t I have been in love?&rdquo; asked the little man, angrily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can&rsquo;t imagine you in love,&rdquo; said the Duke, smiling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And I can&rsquo;t imagine YOU. You&rsquo;re too pleased with yourself,&rdquo; growled
+      Noaks.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Spur your imagination, Noaks,&rdquo; said his friend. &ldquo;I AM in love.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So am I,&rdquo; was an unexpected answer, and the Duke (whose need of sympathy
+      was too new to have taught him sympathy with others) laughed aloud. &ldquo;Whom
+      do you love?&rdquo; he asked, throwing himself into an arm-chair.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know who she is,&rdquo; was another unexpected answer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When did you meet her?&rdquo; asked the Duke. &ldquo;Where? What did you say to her?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yesterday. In the Corn. I didn&rsquo;t SAY anything to her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is she beautiful?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. What&rsquo;s that to you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dark or fair?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She&rsquo;s dark. She looks like a foreigner. She looks like&mdash;like one of
+      those photographs in the shop-windows.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A rhapsody, Noaks! What became of her? Was she alone?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She was with the old Warden, in his carriage.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Zuleika&mdash;Noaks! The Duke started, as at an affront, and glared. Next
+      moment, he saw the absurdity of the situation. He relapsed into his chair,
+      smiling. &ldquo;She&rsquo;s the Warden&rsquo;s niece,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I dined at the Warden&rsquo;s
+      last night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Noaks sat still, peering across at the Duke. For the first time in his
+      life, he was resentful of the Duke&rsquo;s great elegance and average stature,
+      his high lineage and incomputable wealth. Hitherto, these things had been
+      too remote for envy. But now, suddenly, they seemed near to him&mdash;nearer
+      and more overpowering than the First in Mods had ever been. &ldquo;And of course
+      she&rsquo;s in love with you?&rdquo; he snarled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Really, this was for the Duke a new issue. So salient was his own passion
+      that he had not had time to wonder whether it were returned. Zuleika&rsquo;s
+      behaviour during dinner... But that was how so many young women had
+      behaved. It was no sign of disinterested love. It might mean merely... Yet
+      no! Surely, looking into her eyes, he had seen there a radiance finer than
+      could have been lit by common ambition. Love, none other, must have lit in
+      those purple depths the torches whose clear flames had leapt out to him.
+      She loved him. She, the beautiful, the wonderful, had not tried to conceal
+      her love for him. She had shown him all&mdash;had shown all, poor darling!
+      only to be snubbed by a prig, driven away by a boor, fled from by a fool.
+      To the nethermost corner of his soul, he cursed himself for what he had
+      done, and for all he had left undone. He would go to her on his knees. He
+      would implore her to impose on him insufferable penances. There was no
+      penance, how bittersweet soever, could make him a little worthy of her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come in!&rdquo; he cried mechanically. Entered the landlady&rsquo;s daughter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A lady downstairs,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;asking to see your Grace. Says she&rsquo;ll step
+      round again later if your Grace is busy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is her name?&rdquo; asked the Duke, vacantly. He was gazing at the girl
+      with pain-shot eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Zuleika Dobson,&rdquo; pronounced the girl.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He rose.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Show Miss Dobson up,&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Noaks had darted to the looking-glass and was smoothing his hair with a
+      tremulous, enormous hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Go!&rdquo; said the Duke, pointing to the door. Noaks went, quickly. Echoes of
+      his boots fell from the upper stairs and met the ascending susurrus of a
+      silk skirt.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The lovers met. There was an interchange of ordinary greetings: from the
+      Duke, a comment on the weather; from Zuleika, a hope that he was well
+      again&mdash;they had been so sorry to lose him last night. Then came a
+      pause. The landlady&rsquo;s daughter was clearing away the breakfast-things.
+      Zuleika glanced comprehensively at the room, and the Duke gazed at the
+      hearthrug. The landlady&rsquo;s daughter clattered out with her freight. They
+      were alone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How pretty!&rdquo; said Zuleika. She was looking at his star of the Garter,
+      which sparkled from a litter of books and papers on a small side-table.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he answered. &ldquo;It is pretty, isn&rsquo;t it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Awfully pretty!&rdquo; she rejoined.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This dialogue led them to another hollow pause. The Duke&rsquo;s heart beat
+      violently within him. Why had he not asked her to take the star and keep
+      it as a gift? Too late now! Why could he not throw himself at her feet?
+      Here were two beings, lovers of each other, with none by. And yet...
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She was examining a water-colour on the wall, seemed to be absorbed by it.
+      He watched her. She was even lovelier than he had remembered; or rather
+      her loveliness had been, in some subtle way, transmuted. Something had
+      given to her a graver, nobler beauty. Last night&rsquo;s nymph had become the
+      Madonna of this morning. Despite her dress, which was of a tremendous
+      tartan, she diffused the pale authentic radiance of a spirituality most
+      high, most simple. The Duke wondered where lay the change in her. He could
+      not understand. Suddenly she turned to him, and he understood. No longer
+      the black pearl and the pink, but two white pearls!... He thrilled to his
+      heart&rsquo;s core.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hope,&rdquo; said Zuleika, &ldquo;you aren&rsquo;t awfully vexed with me for coming like
+      this?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not at all,&rdquo; said the Duke. &ldquo;I am delighted to see you.&rdquo; How inadequate
+      the words sounded, how formal and stupid!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The fact is,&rdquo; she continued, &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know a soul in Oxford. And I
+      thought perhaps you&rsquo;d give me luncheon, and take me to see the boat-races.
+      Will you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall be charmed,&rdquo; he said, pulling the bell-rope. Poor fool! he
+      attributed the shade of disappointment on Zuleika&rsquo;s face to the coldness
+      of his tone. He would dispel that shade. He would avow himself. He would
+      leave her no longer in this false position. So soon as he had told them
+      about the meal, he would proclaim his passion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The bell was answered by the landlady&rsquo;s daughter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Dobson will stay to luncheon,&rdquo; said the Duke. The girl withdrew. He
+      wished he could have asked her not to.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He steeled himself. &ldquo;Miss Dobson,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I wish to apologise to you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Zuleika looked at him eagerly. &ldquo;You can&rsquo;t give me luncheon? You&rsquo;ve got
+      something better to do?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. I wish to ask you to forgive me for my behaviour last night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There is nothing to forgive.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There is. My manners were vile. I know well what happened. Though you,
+      too, cannot have forgotten, I won&rsquo;t spare myself the recital. You were my
+      hostess, and I ignored you. Magnanimous, you paid me the prettiest
+      compliment woman ever paid to man, and I insulted you. I left the house in
+      order that I might not see you again. To the doorsteps down which he
+      should have kicked me, your grandfather followed me with words of
+      kindliest courtesy. If he had sped me with a kick so skilful that my skull
+      had been shattered on the kerb, neither would he have outstepped those
+      bounds set to the conduct of English gentlemen, nor would you have
+      garnered more than a trifle on account of your proper reckoning. I do not
+      say that you are the first person whom I have wantonly injured. But it is
+      a fact that I, in whom pride has ever been the topmost quality, have never
+      expressed sorrow to any one for anything. Thus, I might urge that my
+      present abjectness must be intolerably painful to me, and should incline
+      you to forgive. But such an argument were specious merely. I will be quite
+      frank with you. I will confess to you that, in this humbling of myself
+      before you, I take a pleasure as passionate as it is strange. A confusion
+      of feelings? Yet you, with a woman&rsquo;s instinct, will have already caught
+      the clue to it. It needs no mirror to assure me that the clue is here for
+      you, in my eyes. It needs no dictionary of quotations to remind me that
+      the eyes are the windows of the soul. And I know that from two open
+      windows my soul has been leaning and signalling to you, in a code far more
+      definitive and swifter than words of mine, that I love you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Zuleika, listening to him, had grown gradually paler and paler. She had
+      raised her hands and cowered as though he were about to strike her. And
+      then, as he pronounced the last three words, she had clasped her hands to
+      her face and with a wild sob darted away from him. She was leaning now
+      against the window, her head bowed and her shoulders quivering.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Duke came softly behind her. &ldquo;Why should you cry? Why should you turn
+      away from me? Did I frighten you with the suddenness of my words? I am not
+      versed in the tricks of wooing. I should have been more patient. But I
+      love you so much that I could hardly have waited. A secret hope that you
+      loved me too emboldened me, compelled me. You DO love me. I know it. And,
+      knowing it, I do but ask you to give yourself to me, to be my wife. Why
+      should you cry? Why should you shrink from me? Dear, if there were
+      anything... any secret... if you had ever loved and been deceived, do you
+      think I should honour you the less deeply, should not cherish you the more
+      tenderly? Enough for me, that you are mine. Do you think I should ever
+      reproach you for anything that may have&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Zuleika turned on him. &ldquo;How dare you?&rdquo; she gasped. &ldquo;How dare you speak to
+      me like that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Duke reeled back. Horror had come into his eyes. &ldquo;You do not love me!&rdquo;
+       he cried.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;LOVE you?&rdquo; she retorted. &ldquo;YOU?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You no longer love me. Why? Why?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do you mean?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You loved me. Don&rsquo;t trifle with me. You came to me loving me with all
+      your heart.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How do you know?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Look in the glass.&rdquo; She went at his bidding. He followed her. &ldquo;You see
+      them?&rdquo; he said, after a long pause. Zuleika nodded. The two pearls
+      quivered to her nod.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They were white when you came to me,&rdquo; he sighed. &ldquo;They were white because
+      you loved me. From them it was that I knew you loved me even as I loved
+      you. But their old colours have come back to them. That is how I know that
+      your love for me is dead.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Zuleika stood gazing pensively, twitching the two pearls between her
+      fingers. Tears gathered in her eyes. She met the reflection of her lover&rsquo;s
+      eyes, and her tears brimmed over. She buried her face in her hands, and
+      sobbed like a child.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Like a child&rsquo;s, her sobbing ceased quite suddenly. She groped for her
+      handkerchief, angrily dried her eyes, and straightened and smoothed
+      herself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now I&rsquo;m going,&rdquo; she said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You came here of your own accord, because you loved me,&rdquo; said the Duke.
+      &ldquo;And you shall not go till you have told me why you have left off loving
+      me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How did you know I loved you?&rdquo; she asked after a pause. &ldquo;How did you know
+      I hadn&rsquo;t simply put on another pair of ear-rings?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Duke, with a melancholy laugh, drew the two studs from his
+      waistcoat-pocket. &ldquo;These are the studs I wore last night,&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Zuleika gazed at them. &ldquo;I see,&rdquo; she said; then, looking up, &ldquo;When did they
+      become like that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was when you left the dining-room that I saw the change in them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How strange! It was when I went into the drawing-room that I noticed
+      mine. I was looking in the glass, and&rdquo;&mdash;She started. &ldquo;Then you were
+      in love with me last night?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I began to be in love with you from the moment I saw you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then how could you have behaved as you did?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because I was a pedant. I tried to ignore you, as pedants always do try
+      to ignore any fact they cannot fit into their pet system. The basis of my
+      pet system was celibacy. I don&rsquo;t mean the mere state of being a bachelor.
+      I mean celibacy of the soul&mdash;egoism, in fact. You have converted me
+      from that. I am now a confirmed tuist.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How dared you insult me?&rdquo; she cried, with a stamp of her foot. &ldquo;How dared
+      you make a fool of me before those people? Oh, it is too infamous!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have already asked you to forgive me for that. You said there was
+      nothing to forgive.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I didn&rsquo;t dream that you were in love with me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What difference can that make?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All the difference! All the difference in life!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sit down! You bewilder me,&rdquo; said the Duke. &ldquo;Explain yourself!&rdquo; he
+      commanded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Isn&rsquo;t that rather much for a man to ask of a woman?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know. I have no experience of women. In the abstract, it seems to
+      me that every man has a right to some explanation from the woman who has
+      ruined his life.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are frightfully sorry for yourself,&rdquo; said Zuleika, with a bitter
+      laugh. &ldquo;Of course it doesn&rsquo;t occur to you that <i>I</i> am at all to be
+      pitied. No! you are blind with selfishness. You love me&mdash;I don&rsquo;t love
+      you: that is all you can realise. Probably you think you are the first man
+      who has ever fallen on such a plight.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Said the Duke, bowing over a deprecatory hand, &ldquo;If there were to pass my
+      window one tithe of them whose hearts have been lost to Miss Dobson, I
+      should win no solace from that interminable parade.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Zuleika blushed. &ldquo;Yet,&rdquo; she said more gently, &ldquo;be sure they would all be
+      not a little envious of YOU! Not one of them ever touched the surface of
+      my heart. You stirred my heart to its very depths. Yes, you made me love
+      you madly. The pearls told you no lie. You were my idol&mdash;the one
+      thing in the wide world to me. You were so different from any man I had
+      ever seen except in dreams. You did not make a fool of yourself. I admired
+      you. I respected you. I was all afire with adoration of you. And now,&rdquo; she
+      passed her hand across her eyes, &ldquo;now it is all over. The idol has come
+      sliding down its pedestal to fawn and grovel with all the other infatuates
+      in the dust about my feet.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Duke looked thoughtfully at her. &ldquo;I thought,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;that you
+      revelled in your power over men&rsquo;s hearts. I had always heard that you
+      lived for admiration.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; said Zuleika, &ldquo;of course I like being admired. Oh yes, I like all
+      that very much indeed. In a way, I suppose, I&rsquo;m even pleased that YOU
+      admire me. But oh, what a little miserable pleasure that is in comparison
+      with the rapture I have forfeited! I had never known the rapture of being
+      in love. I had longed for it, but I had never guessed how wonderfully
+      wonderful it was. It came to me. I shuddered and wavered like a fountain
+      in the wind. I was more helpless and flew lightlier than a shred of
+      thistledown among the stars. All night long, I could not sleep for love of
+      you; nor had I any desire of sleep, save that it might take me to you in a
+      dream. I remember nothing that happened to me this morning before I found
+      myself at your door.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why did you ring the bell? Why didn&rsquo;t you walk away?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why? I had come to see you, to be near you, to be WITH you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To force yourself on me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You know the meaning of the term &lsquo;effective occupation&rsquo;? Having marched
+      in, how could you have held your position, unless&rdquo;&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, a man doesn&rsquo;t necessarily drive a woman away because he isn&rsquo;t in love
+      with her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yet that was what you thought I had done to you last night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, but I didn&rsquo;t suppose you would take the trouble to do it again. And
+      if you had, I should have only loved you the more. I thought you would
+      most likely be rather amused, rather touched, by my importunity. I thought
+      you would take a listless advantage, make a plaything of me&mdash;the
+      diversion of a few idle hours in summer, and then, when you had tired of
+      me, would cast me aside, forget me, break my heart. I desired nothing
+      better than that. That is what I must have been vaguely hoping for. But I
+      had no definite scheme. I wanted to be with you and I came to you. It
+      seems years ago, now! How my heart beat as I waited on the doorstep! &lsquo;Is
+      his Grace at home?&rsquo; &lsquo;I don&rsquo;t know. I&rsquo;ll inquire. What name shall I say?&rsquo; I
+      saw in the girl&rsquo;s eyes that she, too, loved you. Have YOU seen that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have never looked at her,&rdquo; said the Duke.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No wonder, then, that she loves you,&rdquo; sighed Zuleika. &ldquo;She read my secret
+      at a glance. Women who love the same man have a kind of bitter
+      freemasonry. We resented each other. She envied me my beauty, my dress. I
+      envied the little fool her privilege of being always near to you. Loving
+      you, I could conceive no life sweeter than hers&mdash;to be always near
+      you; to black your boots, carry up your coals, scrub your doorstep; always
+      to be working for you, hard and humbly and without thanks. If you had
+      refused to see me, I would have bribed that girl with all my jewels to
+      cede me her position.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Duke made a step towards her. &ldquo;You would do it still,&rdquo; he said in a
+      low voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Zuleika raised her eyebrows. &ldquo;I would not offer her one garnet,&rdquo; she said,
+      &ldquo;now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You SHALL love me again,&rdquo; he cried. &ldquo;I will force you to. You said just
+      now that you had ceased to love me because I was just like other men. I am
+      not. My heart is no tablet of mere wax, from which an instant&rsquo;s heat can
+      dissolve whatever impress it may bear, leaving it blank and soft for
+      another impress, and another, and another. My heart is a bright hard gem,
+      proof against any die. Came Cupid, with one of his arrow-points for
+      graver, and what he cut on the gem&rsquo;s surface never can be effaced. There,
+      deeply and forever, your image is intagliated. No years, nor fires, nor
+      cataclysm of total Nature, can efface from that great gem your image.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear Duke,&rdquo; said Zuleika, &ldquo;don&rsquo;t be so silly. Look at the matter
+      sensibly. I know that lovers don&rsquo;t try to regulate their emotions
+      according to logic; but they do, nevertheless, unconsciously conform with
+      some sort of logical system. I left off loving you when I found that you
+      loved me. There is the premiss. Very well! Is it likely that I shall begin
+      to love you again because you can&rsquo;t leave off loving me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Duke groaned. There was a clatter of plates outside, and she whom
+      Zuleika had envied came to lay the table for luncheon.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A smile flickered across Zuleika&rsquo;s lips; and &ldquo;Not one garnet!&rdquo; she
+      murmured.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      V
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Luncheon passed in almost unbroken silence. Both Zuleika and the Duke were
+      ravenously hungry, as people always are after the stress of any great
+      emotional crisis. Between them, they made very short work of a cold
+      chicken, a salad, a gooseberry-tart and a Camembert. The Duke filled his
+      glass again and again. The cold classicism of his face had been routed by
+      the new romantic movement which had swept over his soul. He looked two or
+      three months older than when first I showed him to my reader.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He drank his coffee at one draught, pushed back his chair, threw away the
+      cigarette he had just lit. &ldquo;Listen!&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Zuleika folded her hands on her lap.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You do not love me. I accept as final your hint that you never will love
+      me. I need not say&mdash;could not, indeed, ever say&mdash;how deeply,
+      deeply you have pained me. As lover, I am rejected. But that rejection,&rdquo;
+       he continued, striking the table, &ldquo;is no stopper to my suit. It does but
+      drive me to the use of arguments. My pride shrinks from them. Love,
+      however, is greater than pride; and I, John, Albert, Edward, Claude, Orde,
+      Angus, Tankerton,* Tanville-Tankerton,** fourteenth Duke of Dorset,
+      Marquis of Dorset, Earl of Grove, Earl of Chastermaine, Viscount Brewsby,
+      Baron Grove, Baron Petstrap, and Baron Wolock, in the Peerage of England,
+      offer you my hand. Do not interrupt me. Do not toss your head. Consider
+      well what I am saying. Weigh the advantages you would gain by acceptance
+      of my hand. Indeed, they are manifold and tremendous. They are also
+      obvious: do not shut your eyes to them. You, Miss Dobson, what are you? A
+      conjurer, and a vagrant; without means, save such as you can earn by the
+      sleight of your hand; without position; without a home; all unguarded but
+      by your own self-respect. That you follow an honourable calling, I do not
+      for one moment deny. I do, however, ask you to consider how great are its
+      perils and hardships, its fatigues and inconveniences. From all these
+      evils I offer you instant refuge. I offer you, Miss Dobson, a refuge more
+      glorious and more augustly gilded than you, in your airiest flights of
+      fancy, can ever have hoped for or imagined. I own about 340,000 acres. My
+      town-residence is in St. James&rsquo;s Square. Tankerton, of which you may have
+      seen photographs, is the chief of my country-seats. It is a Tudor house,
+      set on the ridge of a valley. The valley, its park, is halved by a stream
+      so narrow that the deer leap across. The gardens are estraded upon the
+      slope. Round the house runs a wide paven terrace. There are always two or
+      three peacocks trailing their sheathed feathers along the balustrade, and
+      stepping how stiffly! as though they had just been unharnessed from Juno&rsquo;s
+      chariot. Two flights of shallow steps lead down to the flowers and
+      fountains. Oh, the gardens are wonderful. There is a Jacobean garden of
+      white roses. Between the ends of two pleached alleys, under a dome of
+      branches, is a little lake, with a Triton of black marble, and with
+      water-lilies. Hither and thither under the archipelago of water-lilies,
+      dart gold-fish&mdash;tongues of flame in the dark water. There is also a
+      long strait alley of clipped yew. It ends in an alcove for a pagoda of
+      painted porcelain which the Prince Regent&mdash;peace be to his ashes!&mdash;presented
+      to my great-grandfather. There are many twisting paths, and sudden
+      aspects, and devious, fantastic arbours. Are you fond of horses? In my
+      stables of pine-wood and plated-silver seventy are installed. Not all of
+      them together could vie in power with one of the meanest of my
+      motor-cars.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+   *Pronounced as Tacton.
+
+  **Pronounced as Tavvle-Tacton.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I never go in motors,&rdquo; said Zuleika. &ldquo;They make one look like nothing
+      on earth, and like everybody else.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I myself,&rdquo; said the Duke, &ldquo;use them little for that very reason. Are you
+      interested in farming? At Tankerton there is a model farm which would at
+      any rate amuse you, with its heifers and hens and pigs that are like so
+      many big new toys. There is a tiny dairy, which is called &lsquo;Her Grace&rsquo;s.&rsquo; 
+      You could make, therein, real butter with your own hands, and round it
+      into little pats, and press every pat with a different device. The boudoir
+      that would be yours is a blue room. Four Watteaus hang in it. In the
+      dining-hall hang portraits of my forefathers&mdash;in petto, your
+      forefathers-in-law&mdash;by many masters. Are you fond of peasants? My
+      tenantry are delightful creatures, and there is not one of them who
+      remembers the bringing of the news of the Battle of Waterloo. When a new
+      Duchess is brought to Tankerton, the oldest elm in the park must be
+      felled. That is one of many strange old customs. As she is driven through
+      the village, the children of the tenantry must strew the road with
+      daisies. The bridal chamber must be lighted with as many candles as years
+      have elapsed since the creation of the Dukedom. If you came into it, there
+      would be&rdquo;&mdash;and the youth, closing his eyes, made a rapid calculation&mdash;&ldquo;exactly
+      three hundred and eighty-eight candles. On the eve of the death of a Duke
+      of Dorset, two black owls come and perch on the battlements. They remain
+      there through the night, hooting. At dawn they fly away, none knows
+      whither. On the eve of the death of any other Tanville-Tankerton, comes
+      (no matter what be the time of year) a cuckoo. It stays for an hour,
+      cooing, then flies away, none knows whither. Whenever this portent occurs,
+      my steward telegraphs to me, that I, as head of the family, be not
+      unsteeled against the shock of a bereavement, and that my authority be
+      sooner given for the unsealing and garnishing of the family-vault. Not
+      every forefather of mine rests quiet beneath his escutcheoned marble.
+      There are they who revisit, in their wrath or their remorse, the places
+      wherein erst they suffered or wrought evil. There is one who, every
+      Halloween, flits into the dining-hall, and hovers before the portrait
+      which Hans Holbein made of him, and flings his diaphanous grey form
+      against the canvas, hoping, maybe, to catch from it the fiery flesh-tints
+      and the solid limbs that were his, and so to be re-incarnate. He flies
+      against the painting, only to find himself t&rsquo;other side of the wall it
+      hangs on. There are five ghosts permanently residing in the right wing of
+      the house, two in the left, and eleven in the park. But all are quite
+      noiseless and quite harmless. My servants, when they meet them in the
+      corridors or on the stairs, stand aside to let them pass, thus paying them
+      the respect due to guests of mine; but not even the rawest housemaid ever
+      screams or flees at sight of them. I, their host, often waylay them and
+      try to commune with them; but always they glide past me. And how
+      gracefully they glide, these ghosts! It is a pleasure to watch them. It is
+      a lesson in deportment. May they never be laid! Of all my household-pets,
+      they are the dearest to me. I am Duke of Strathsporran and Cairngorm,
+      Marquis of Sorby, and Earl Cairngorm, in the Peerage of Scotland. In the
+      glens of the hills about Strathsporran are many noble and nimble stags.
+      But I have never set foot in my house there, for it is carpeted throughout
+      with the tartan of my clan. You seem to like tartan. What tartan is it you
+      are wearing?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Zuleika looked down at her skirt. &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;I got it in
+      Paris.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said the Duke, &ldquo;it is very ugly. The Dalbraith tartan is
+      harmonious in comparison, and has, at least, the excuse of history. If you
+      married me, you would have the right to wear it. You would have many
+      strange and fascinating rights. You would go to Court. I admit that the
+      Hanoverian Court is not much. Still, it is better than nothing. At your
+      presentation, moreover, you would be given the entree. Is that nothing to
+      you? You would be driven to Court in my statecoach. It is swung so high
+      that the streetsters can hardly see its occupant. It is lined with
+      rose-silk; and on its panels, and on its hammer-cloth, my arms are
+      emblazoned&mdash;no one has ever been able to count the quarterings. You
+      would be wearing the family-jewels, reluctantly surrendered to you by my
+      aunt. They are many and marvellous, in their antique settings. I don&rsquo;t
+      want to brag. It humiliates me to speak to you as I am speaking. But I am
+      heart-set on you, and to win you there is not a precious stone I would
+      leave unturned. Conceive a parure all of white stones&mdash;diamonds,
+      white sapphires, white topazes, tourmalines. Another, of rubies and
+      amethysts, set in gold filigree. Rings that once were poison-combs on
+      Florentine fingers. Red roses for your hair&mdash;every petal a hollowed
+      ruby. Amulets and ape-buckles, zones and fillets. Aye! know that you would
+      be weeping for wonder before you had seen a tithe of these gauds. Know,
+      too, Miss Dobson, that in the Peerage of France I am Duc d&rsquo;Etretat et de
+      la Roche Guillaume. Louis Napoleon gave the title to my father for not
+      cutting him in the Bois. I have a house in the Champs Elysees. There is a
+      Swiss in its courtyard. He stands six-foot-seven in his stockings, and the
+      chasseurs are hardly less tall than he. Wherever I go, there are two chefs
+      in my retinue. Both are masters in their art, and furiously jealous of
+      each other. When I compliment either of them on some dish, the other
+      challenges him. They fight with rapiers, next morning, in the garden of
+      whatever house I am occupying. I do not know whether you are greedy? If
+      so, it may interest you to learn that I have a third chef, who makes only
+      souffles, and an Italian pastry-cook; to say nothing of a Spaniard for
+      salads, an Englishwoman for roasts, and an Abyssinian for coffee. You
+      found no trace of their handiwork in the meal you have just had with me?
+      No; for in Oxford it is a whim of mine&mdash;I may say a point of honour&mdash;to
+      lead the ordinary life of an undergraduate. What I eat in this room is
+      cooked by the heavy and unaided hand of Mrs. Batch, my landlady. It is set
+      before me by the unaided and&mdash;or are you in error?&mdash;loving hand
+      of her daughter. Other ministers have I none here. I dispense with my
+      private secretaries. I am unattended by a single valet. So simple a way of
+      life repels you? You would never be called upon to share it. If you
+      married me, I should take my name off the books of my College. I propose
+      that we should spend our honeymoon at Baiae. I have a villa at Baiae. It
+      is there that I keep my grandfather&rsquo;s collection of majolica. The sun
+      shines there always. A long olive-grove secretes the garden from the sea.
+      When you walk in the garden, you know the sea only in blue glimpses
+      through the vacillating leaves. White-gleaming from the bosky shade of
+      this grove are several goddesses. Do you care for Canova? I don&rsquo;t myself.
+      If you do, these figures will appeal to you: they are in his best manner.
+      Do you love the sea? This is not the only house of mine that looks out on
+      it. On the coast of County Clare&mdash;am I not Earl of Enniskerry and
+      Baron Shandrin in the Peerage of Ireland?&mdash;I have an ancient castle.
+      Sheer from a rock stands it, and the sea has always raged up against its
+      walls. Many ships lie wrecked under that loud implacable sea. But mine is
+      a brave strong castle. No storm affrights it; and not the centuries,
+      clustering houris, with their caresses can seduce it from its hard
+      austerity. I have several titles which for the moment escape me. Baron
+      Llffthwchl am I, and... and... but you can find them for yourself in
+      Debrett. In me you behold a Prince of the Holy Roman Empire, and a Knight
+      of the Most Noble Order of the Garter. Look well at me! I am Hereditary
+      Comber of the Queen&rsquo;s Lap-Dogs. I am young. I am handsome. My temper is
+      sweet, and my character without blemish. In fine, Miss Dobson, I am a most
+      desirable parti.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But,&rdquo; said Zuleika, &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t love you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Duke stamped his foot. &ldquo;I beg your pardon,&rdquo; he said hastily. &ldquo;I ought
+      not to have done that. But&mdash;you seem to have entirely missed the
+      point of what I was saying.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I haven&rsquo;t,&rdquo; said Zuleika.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then what,&rdquo; cried the Duke, standing over her, &ldquo;what is your reply?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Said Zuleika, looking up at him, &ldquo;My reply is that I think you are an
+      awful snob.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Duke turned on his heel, and strode to the other end of the room.
+      There he stood for some moments, his back to Zuleika.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think,&rdquo; she resumed in a slow, meditative voice, &ldquo;that you are, with
+      the possible exception of a Mr. Edelweiss, THE most awful snob I have ever
+      met.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Duke looked back over his shoulder. He gave Zuleika the stinging
+      reprimand of silence. She was sorry, and showed it in her eyes. She felt
+      she had gone too far. True, he was nothing to her now. But she had loved
+      him once. She could not forget that.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come!&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;Let us be good friends. Give me your hand!&rdquo; He came to
+      her, slowly. &ldquo;There!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Duke withdrew his fingers before she unclasped them. That twice-flung
+      taunt rankled still. It was monstrous to have been called a snob. A snob!&mdash;he,
+      whose readiness to form what would certainly be regarded as a shocking
+      misalliance ought to have stifled the charge, not merely vindicated him
+      from it! He had forgotten, in the blindness of his love, how shocking the
+      misalliance would be. Perhaps she, unloving, had not been so forgetful?
+      Perhaps her refusal had been made, generously, for his own sake. Nay,
+      rather for her own. Evidently, she had felt that the high sphere from
+      which he beckoned was no place for the likes of her. Evidently, she feared
+      she would pine away among those strange splendours, never be acclimatised,
+      always be unworthy. He had thought to overwhelm her, and he had done his
+      work too thoroughly. Now he must try to lighten the load he had imposed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Seating himself opposite to her, &ldquo;You remember,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;that there is a
+      dairy at Tankerton?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A dairy? Oh yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you remember what it is called?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Zuleika knit her brows.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He helped her out. &ldquo;It is called &lsquo;Her Grace&rsquo;s&rsquo;.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, of course!&rdquo; said Zuleika.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you know WHY it is called so?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, let&rsquo;s see... I know you told me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did I? I think not. I will tell you now... That cool out-house dates from
+      the middle of the eighteenth century. My great-great-grandfather, when he
+      was a very old man, married en troisiemes noces a dairy-maid on the
+      Tankerton estate. Meg Speedwell was her name. He had seen her walking
+      across a field, not many months after the interment of his second Duchess,
+      Maria, that great and gifted lady. I know not whether it was that her
+      bonny mien fanned in him some embers of his youth, or that he was loth to
+      be outdone in gracious eccentricity by his crony the Duke of Dewlap, who
+      himself had just taken a bride from a dairy. (You have read Meredith&rsquo;s
+      account of that affair? No? You should.) Whether it was veritable love or
+      mere modishness that formed my ancestor&rsquo;s resolve, presently the bells
+      were ringing out, and the oldest elm in the park was being felled, in Meg
+      Speedwell&rsquo;s honour, and the children were strewing daisies on which Meg
+      Speedwell trod, a proud young hoyden of a bride, with her head in the air
+      and her heart in the seventh heaven. The Duke had given her already a
+      horde of fine gifts; but these, he had said, were nothing&mdash;trash in
+      comparison with the gift that was to ensure for her a perdurable felicity.
+      After the wedding-breakfast, when all the squires had ridden away on their
+      cobs, and all the squires&rsquo; ladies in their coaches, the Duke led his bride
+      forth from the hall, leaning on her arm, till they came to a little
+      edifice of new white stone, very spick and span, with two lattice-windows
+      and a bright green door between. This he bade her enter. A-flutter with
+      excitement, she turned the handle. In a moment she flounced back, red with
+      shame and anger&mdash;flounced forth from the fairest, whitest, dapperest
+      dairy, wherein was all of the best that the keenest dairy-maid might need.
+      The Duke bade her dry her eyes, for that it ill befitted a great lady to
+      be weeping on her wedding-day. &lsquo;As for gratitude,&rsquo; he chuckled, &lsquo;zounds!
+      that is a wine all the better for the keeping.&rsquo; Duchess Meg soon forgot
+      this unworthy wedding-gift, such was her rapture in the other, the so
+      august, appurtenances of her new life. What with her fine silk gowns and
+      farthingales, and her powder-closet, and the canopied bed she slept in&mdash;a
+      bed bigger far than the room she had slept in with her sisters, and
+      standing in a room far bigger than her father&rsquo;s cottage; and what with
+      Betty, her maid, who had pinched and teased her at the village-school, but
+      now waited on her so meekly and trembled so fearfully at a scolding; and
+      what with the fine hot dishes that were set before her every day, and the
+      gallant speeches and glances of the fine young gentlemen whom the Duke
+      invited from London, Duchess Meg was quite the happiest Duchess in all
+      England. For a while, she was like a child in a hay-rick. But anon, as the
+      sheer delight of novelty wore away, she began to take a more serious view
+      of her position. She began to realise her responsibilities. She was
+      determined to do all that a great lady ought to do. Twice every day she
+      assumed the vapours. She schooled herself in the mysteries of Ombre, of
+      Macao. She spent hours over the tambour-frame. She rode out on horse-back,
+      with a riding-master. She had a music-master to teach her the spinet; a
+      dancing-master, too, to teach her the Minuet and the Triumph and the
+      Gaudy. All these accomplishments she found mighty hard. She was afraid of
+      her horse. All the morning, she dreaded the hour when it would be brought
+      round from the stables. She dreaded her dancing-lesson. Try as she would,
+      she could but stamp her feet flat on the parquet, as though it had been
+      the village-green. She dreaded her music-lesson. Her fingers, disobedient
+      to her ambition, clumsily thumped the keys of the spinet, and by the notes
+      of the score propped up before her she was as cruelly perplexed as by the
+      black and red pips of the cards she conned at the gaming-table, or by the
+      red and gold threads that were always straying and snapping on her
+      tambour-frame. Still she persevered. Day in, day out, sullenly, she worked
+      hard to be a great lady. But skill came not to her, and hope dwindled;
+      only the dull effort remained. One accomplishment she did master&mdash;to
+      wit, the vapours: they became for her a dreadful reality. She lost her
+      appetite for the fine hot dishes. All night long she lay awake, restless,
+      tearful, under the fine silk canopy, till dawn stared her into slumber.
+      She seldom scolded Betty. She who had been so lusty and so blooming saw in
+      her mirror that she was pale and thin now; and the fine young gentlemen,
+      seeing it too, paid more heed now to their wine and their dice than to
+      her. And always, when she met him, the Duke smiled the same mocking smile.
+      Duchess Meg was pining slowly and surely away... One morning, in
+      Spring-time, she altogether vanished. Betty, bringing the cup of chocolate
+      to the bedside, found the bed empty. She raised the alarm among her
+      fellows. They searched high and low. Nowhere was their mistress. The news
+      was broken to their master, who, without comment, rose, bade his man dress
+      him, and presently walked out to the place where he knew he would find
+      her. And there, to be sure, she was, churning, churning for dear life. Her
+      sleeves were rolled above her elbows, and her skirt was kilted high; and,
+      as she looked back over her shoulder and saw the Duke, there was the flush
+      of roses in her cheeks, and the light of a thousand thanks in her eyes.
+      &lsquo;Oh,&rsquo; she cried, &lsquo;what a curtsey I would drop you, but that to let go the
+      handle were to spoil all!&rsquo; And every morning, ever after, she woke when
+      the birds woke, rose when they rose, and went singing through the dawn to
+      the dairy, there to practise for her pleasure that sweet and lowly
+      handicraft which she had once practised for her need. And every evening,
+      with her milking-stool under her arm, and her milk-pail in her hand, she
+      went into the field and called the cows to her, as she had been wont to
+      do. To those other, those so august, accomplishments she no more
+      pretended. She gave them the go-by. And all the old zest and joyousness of
+      her life came back to her. Soundlier than ever slept she, and sweetlier
+      dreamed, under the fine silk canopy, till the birds called her to her
+      work. Greater than ever was her love of the fine furbelows that were hers
+      to flaunt in, and sharper her appetite for the fine hot dishes, and more
+      tempestuous her scolding of Betty, poor maid. She was more than ever now
+      the cynosure, the adored, of the fine young gentlemen. And as for her
+      husband, she looked up to him as the wisest, kindest man in all the
+      world.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And the fine young gentlemen,&rdquo; said Zuleika, &ldquo;did she fall in love with
+      any of them?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You forget,&rdquo; said the Duke coldly, &ldquo;she was married to a member of my
+      family.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I beg your pardon. But tell me: did they ALL adore her?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. Every one of them, wildly, madly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah,&rdquo; murmured Zuleika, with a smile of understanding. A shadow crossed
+      her face, &ldquo;Even so,&rdquo; she said, with some pique, &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t suppose she had
+      so very many adorers. She never went out into the world.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tankerton,&rdquo; said the Duke drily, &ldquo;is a large house, and my
+      great-great-grandfather was the most hospitable of men. However,&rdquo; he
+      added, marvelling that she had again missed the point so utterly, &ldquo;my
+      purpose was not to confront you with a past rival in conquest, but to set
+      at rest a fear which I had, I think, roused in you by my somewhat full
+      description of the high majestic life to which you, as my bride, would be
+      translated.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A fear? What sort of a fear?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That you would not breathe freely&mdash;that you would starve (if I may
+      use a somewhat fantastic figure) among those strawberry-leaves. And so I
+      told you the story of Meg Speedwell, and how she lived happily ever after.
+      Nay, hear me out! The blood of Meg Speedwell&rsquo;s lord flows in my veins. I
+      think I may boast that I have inherited something of his sagacity. In any
+      case, I can profit by his example. Do not fear that I, if you were to wed
+      me, should demand a metamorphosis of your present self. I should take you
+      as you are, gladly. I should encourage you to be always exactly as you are&mdash;a
+      radiant, irresistible member of the upper middle-class, with a certain
+      freedom of manner acquired through a life of peculiar liberty. Can you
+      guess what would be my principal wedding-gift to you? Meg Speedwell had
+      her dairy. For you, would be built another outhouse&mdash;a neat hall
+      wherein you would perform your conjuring-tricks, every evening except
+      Sunday, before me and my tenants and my servants, and before such of my
+      neighbours as might care to come. None would respect you the less, seeing
+      that I approved. Thus in you would the pleasant history of Meg Speedwell
+      repeat itself. You, practising for your pleasure&mdash;nay, hear me out!&mdash;that
+      sweet and lowly handicraft which&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I won&rsquo;t listen to another word!&rdquo; cried Zuleika. &ldquo;You are the most
+      insolent person I have ever met. I happen to come of a particularly good
+      family. I move in the best society. My manners are absolutely perfect. If
+      I found myself in the shoes of twenty Duchesses simultaneously, I should
+      know quite well how to behave. As for the one pair you can offer me, I
+      kick them away&mdash;so. I kick them back at you. I tell you&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hush,&rdquo; said the Duke, &ldquo;hush! You are over-excited. There will be a crowd
+      under my window. There, there! I am sorry. I thought&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I know what you thought,&rdquo; said Zuleika, in a quieter tone. &ldquo;I am sure
+      you meant well. I am sorry I lost my temper. Only, you might have given me
+      credit for meaning what I said: that I would not marry you, because I did
+      not love you. I daresay there would be great advantages in being your
+      Duchess. But the fact is, I have no worldly wisdom. To me, marriage is a
+      sacrament. I could no more marry a man about whom I could not make a fool
+      of myself than I could marry one who made a fool of himself about me. Else
+      had I long ceased to be a spinster. Oh my friend, do not imagine that I
+      have not rejected, in my day, a score of suitors quite as eligible as
+      you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As eligible? Who were they?&rdquo; frowned the Duke.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Archduke this, and Grand Duke that, and His Serene Highness the
+      other. I have a wretched memory for names.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And my name, too, will soon escape you, perhaps?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. Oh, no. I shall always remember yours. You see, I was in love with
+      you. You deceived me into loving you...&rdquo; She sighed. &ldquo;Oh, had you but been
+      as strong as I thought you... Still, a swain the more. That is something.&rdquo;
+       She leaned forward, smiling archly. &ldquo;Those studs&mdash;show me them
+      again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Duke displayed them in the hollow of his hand. She touched them
+      lightly, reverently, as a tourist touches a sacred relic in a church.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At length, &ldquo;Do give me them,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;I will keep them in a little
+      secret partition of my jewel-case.&rdquo; The Duke had closed his fist. &ldquo;Do!&rdquo;
+       she pleaded. &ldquo;My other jewels&mdash;they have no separate meanings for me.
+      I never remember who gave me this one or that. These would be quite
+      different. I should always remember their history... Do!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ask me for anything else,&rdquo; said the Duke. &ldquo;These are the one thing I
+      could not part with&mdash;even to you, for whose sake they are hallowed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Zuleika pouted. On the verge of persisting, she changed her mind, and was
+      silent.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well!&rdquo; she said abruptly, &ldquo;how about these races? Are you going to take
+      me to see them?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Races? What races?&rdquo; murmured the Duke. &ldquo;Oh yes. I had forgotten. Do you
+      really mean that you want to see them?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, of course! They are great fun, aren&rsquo;t they?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you are in a mood for great fun? Well, there is plenty of time. The
+      Second Division is not rowed till half-past four.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Second Division? Why not take me to the First?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is not rowed till six.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Isn&rsquo;t this rather an odd arrangement?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No doubt. But Oxford never pretended to be strong in mathematics.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, it&rsquo;s not yet three!&rdquo; cried Zuleika, with a woebegone stare at the
+      clock. &ldquo;What is to be done in the meantime?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Am not I sufficiently diverting?&rdquo; asked the Duke bitterly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Quite candidly, no. Have you any friend lodging with you here?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;One, overhead. A man named Noaks.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A small man, with spectacles?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very small, with very large spectacles.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He was pointed out to me yesterday, as I was driving from the Station ...
+      No, I don&rsquo;t think I want to meet him. What can you have in common with
+      him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;One frailty, at least: he, too, Miss Dobson, loves you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But of course he does. He saw me drive past. Very few of the others,&rdquo; she
+      said, rising and shaking herself, &ldquo;have set eyes on me. Do let us go out
+      and look at the Colleges. I do need change of scene. If you were a doctor,
+      you would have prescribed that long ago. It is very bad for me to be here,
+      a kind of Cinderella, moping over the ashes of my love for you. Where is
+      your hat?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Looking round, she caught sight of herself in the glass. &ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; she cried,
+      &ldquo;what a fright I do look! I must never be seen like this!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You look very beautiful.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t. That is a lover&rsquo;s illusion. You yourself told me that this
+      tartan was perfectly hideous. There was no need to tell me that. I came
+      thus because I was coming to see you. I chose this frock in the deliberate
+      fear that you, if I made myself presentable, might succumb at second sight
+      of me. I would have sent out for a sack and dressed myself in that, I
+      would have blacked my face all over with burnt cork, only I was afraid of
+      being mobbed on the way to you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Even so, you would but have been mobbed for your incorrigible beauty.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My beauty! How I hate it!&rdquo; sighed Zuleika. &ldquo;Still, here it is, and I must
+      needs make the best of it. Come! Take me to Judas. I will change my
+      things. Then I shall be fit for the races.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As these two emerged, side by side, into the street, the Emperors
+      exchanged stony sidelong glances. For they saw the more than normal pallor
+      of the Duke&rsquo;s face, and something very like desperation in his eyes. They
+      saw the tragedy progressing to its foreseen close. Unable to stay its
+      course, they were grimly fascinated now.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      VI
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The evil that men do lives after them; the good is oft interred with
+      their bones.&rdquo; At any rate, the sinner has a better chance than the saint
+      of being hereafter remembered. We, in whom original sin preponderates,
+      find him easier to understand. He is near to us, clear to us. The saint is
+      remote, dim. A very great saint may, of course, be remembered through some
+      sheer force of originality in him; and then the very mystery that involves
+      him for us makes him the harder to forget: he haunts us the more surely
+      because we shall never understand him. But the ordinary saints grow faint
+      to posterity; whilst quite ordinary sinners pass vividly down the ages.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Of the disciples of Jesus, which is he that is most often remembered and
+      cited by us? Not the disciple whom Jesus loved; neither of the Boanerges,
+      nor any other of them who so steadfastly followed Him and served Him; but
+      the disciple who betrayed Him for thirty pieces of silver. Judas Iscariot
+      it is who outstands, overshadowing those other fishermen. And perhaps it
+      was by reason of this precedence that Christopher Whitrid, Knight, in the
+      reign of Henry VI., gave the name of Judas to the College which he had
+      founded. Or perhaps it was because he felt that in a Christian community
+      not even the meanest and basest of men should be accounted beneath
+      contempt, beyond redemption.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At any rate, thus he named his foundation. And, though for Oxford men the
+      savour of the name itself has long evaporated through its local connexion,
+      many things show that for the Founder himself it was no empty vocable. In
+      a niche above the gate stands a rudely carved statue of Judas, holding a
+      money-bag in his right hand. Among the original statutes of the College is
+      one by which the Bursar is enjoined to distribute in Passion Week thirty
+      pieces of silver among the needier scholars &ldquo;for saike of atonynge.&rdquo; The
+      meadow adjoining the back of the College has been called from time
+      immemorial &ldquo;the Potter&rsquo;s Field.&rdquo; And the name of Salt Cellar is not less
+      ancient and significant.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Salt Cellar, that grey and green quadrangle visible from the room assigned
+      to Zuleika, is very beautiful, as I have said. So tranquil is it as to
+      seem remote not merely from the world, but even from Oxford, so deeply is
+      it hidden away in the core of Oxford&rsquo;s heart. So tranquil is it, one would
+      guess that nothing had ever happened in it. For five centuries these walls
+      have stood, and during that time have beheld, one would say, no sight less
+      seemly than the good work of weeding, mowing, rolling, that has made, at
+      length, so exemplary the lawn. These cloisters that grace the south and
+      east sides&mdash;five centuries have passed through them, leaving in them
+      no echo, leaving on them no sign, of all that the outer world, for good or
+      evil, has been doing so fiercely, so raucously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And yet, if you are versed in the antiquities of Oxford, you know that
+      this small, still quadrangle has played its part in the rough-and-tumble
+      of history, and has been the background of high passions and strange
+      fates. The sun-dial in its midst has told the hours to more than one
+      bygone King. Charles I. lay for twelve nights in Judas; and it was here,
+      in this very quadrangle, that he heard from the lips of a breathless and
+      blood-stained messenger the news of Chalgrove Field. Sixty years later,
+      James, his son, came hither, black with threats, and from one of the
+      hind-windows of the Warden&rsquo;s house&mdash;maybe, from the very room where
+      now Zuleika was changing her frock&mdash;addressed the Fellows, and
+      presented to them the Papist by him chosen to be their Warden, instead of
+      the Protestant whom they had elected. They were not of so stern a stuff as
+      the Fellows of Magdalen, who, despite His Majesty&rsquo;s menaces, had just
+      rejected Bishop Farmer. The Papist was elected, there and then, al fresco,
+      without dissent. Cannot one see them, these Fellows of Judas, huddled
+      together round the sun-dial, like so many sheep in a storm? The King&rsquo;s
+      wrath, according to a contemporary record, was so appeased by their
+      pliancy that he deigned to lie for two nights in Judas, and at a grand
+      refection in Hall &ldquo;was gracious and merrie.&rdquo; Perhaps it was in lingering
+      gratitude for such patronage that Judas remained so pious to his memory
+      even after smug Herrenhausen had been dumped down on us for ever.
+      Certainly, of all the Colleges none was more ardent than Judas for James
+      Stuart. Thither it was that young Sir Harry Esson led, under cover of
+      night, three-score recruits whom he had enlisted in the surrounding
+      villages. The cloisters of Salt Cellar were piled with arms and stores;
+      and on its grass&mdash;its sacred grass!&mdash;the squad was incessantly
+      drilled, against the good day when Ormond should land his men in Devon.
+      For a whole month Salt Cellar was a secret camp. But somehow, at length&mdash;woe
+      to &ldquo;lost causes and impossible loyalties&rdquo;&mdash;Herrenhausen had wind of
+      it; and one night, when the soldiers of the white cockade lay snoring
+      beneath the stars, stealthily the white-faced Warden unbarred his postern&mdash;that
+      very postern through which now Zuleika had passed on the way to her
+      bedroom&mdash;and stealthily through it, one by one on tip-toe, came the
+      King&rsquo;s foot-guards. Not many shots rang out, nor many swords clashed, in
+      the night air, before the trick was won for law and order. Most of the
+      rebels were overpowered in their sleep; and those who had time to snatch
+      arms were too dazed to make good resistance. Sir Harry Esson himself was
+      the only one who did not live to be hanged. He had sprung up alert, sword
+      in hand, at the first alarm, setting his back to the cloisters. There he
+      fought calmly, ferociously, till a bullet went through his chest. &ldquo;By God,
+      this College is well-named!&rdquo; were the words he uttered as he fell forward
+      and died.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Comparatively tame was the scene now being enacted in this place. The
+      Duke, with bowed head, was pacing the path between the lawn and the
+      cloisters. Two other undergraduates stood watching him, whispering to each
+      other, under the archway that leads to the Front Quadrangle. Presently, in
+      a sheepish way, they approached him. He halted and looked up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I say,&rdquo; stammered the spokesman.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well?&rdquo; asked the Duke. Both youths were slightly acquainted with him; but
+      he was not used to being spoken to by those whom he had not first
+      addressed. Moreover, he was loth to be thus disturbed in his sombre
+      reverie. His manner was not encouraging.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Isn&rsquo;t it a lovely day for the Eights?&rdquo; faltered the spokesman.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I conceive,&rdquo; the Duke said, &ldquo;that you hold back some other question.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The spokesman smiled weakly. Nudged by the other, he muttered &ldquo;Ask him
+      yourself!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Duke diverted his gaze to the other, who, with an angry look at the
+      one, cleared his throat, and said &ldquo;I was going to ask if you thought Miss
+      Dobson would come and have luncheon with me to-morrow?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A sister of mine will be there,&rdquo; explained the one, knowing the Duke to
+      be a precisian.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you are acquainted with Miss Dobson, a direct invitation should be
+      sent to her,&rdquo; said the Duke. &ldquo;If you are not&mdash;&rdquo; The aposiopesis was
+      icy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, you see,&rdquo; said the other of the two, &ldquo;that is just the difficulty.
+      I AM acquainted with her. But is she acquainted with ME? I met her at
+      breakfast this morning, at the Warden&rsquo;s.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So did I,&rdquo; added the one.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But she&mdash;well,&rdquo; continued the other, &ldquo;she didn&rsquo;t take much notice of
+      us. She seemed to be in a sort of dream.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; murmured the Duke, with melancholy interest.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The only time she opened her lips,&rdquo; said the other, &ldquo;was when she asked
+      us whether we took tea or coffee.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She put hot milk in my tea,&rdquo; volunteered the one, &ldquo;and upset the cup over
+      my hand, and smiled vaguely.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And smiled vaguely,&rdquo; sighed the Duke.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She left us long before the marmalade stage,&rdquo; said the one.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Without a word,&rdquo; said the other.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Without a glance?&rdquo; asked the Duke. It was testified by the one and the
+      other that there had been not so much as a glance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Doubtless,&rdquo; the disingenuous Duke said, &ldquo;she had a headache... Was she
+      pale?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very pale,&rdquo; answered the one.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A healthy pallor,&rdquo; qualified the other, who was a constant reader of
+      novels.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did she look,&rdquo; the Duke inquired, &ldquo;as if she had spent a sleepless
+      night?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      That was the impression made on both.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yet she did not seem listless or unhappy?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      No, they would not go so far as to say that.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Indeed, were her eyes of an almost unnatural brilliance?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Quite unnatural,&rdquo; confessed the one.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Twin stars,&rdquo; interpolated the other.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did she, in fact, seem to be consumed by some inward rapture?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Yes, now they came to think of it, this was exactly how she HAD seemed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was sweet, it was bitter, for the Duke. &ldquo;I remember,&rdquo; Zuleika had said
+      to him, &ldquo;nothing that happened to me this morning till I found myself at
+      your door.&rdquo; It was bitter-sweet to have that outline filled in by these
+      artless pencils. No, it was only bitter, to be, at his time of life,
+      living in the past.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The purpose of your tattle?&rdquo; he asked coldly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The two youths hurried to the point from which he had diverted them. &ldquo;When
+      she went by with you just now,&rdquo; said the one, &ldquo;she evidently didn&rsquo;t know
+      us from Adam.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And I had so hoped to ask her to luncheon,&rdquo; said the other.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, we wondered if you would re-introduce us. And then perhaps...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was a pause. The Duke was touched to kindness for these
+      fellow-lovers. He would fain preserve them from the anguish that beset
+      himself. So humanising is sorrow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are in love with Miss Dobson?&rdquo; he asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Both nodded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;you will in time be thankful to me for not affording you
+      further traffic with that lady. To love and be scorned&mdash;does Fate
+      hold for us a greater inconvenience? You think I beg the question? Let me
+      tell you that I, too, love Miss Dobson, and that she scorns me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      To the implied question &ldquo;What chance would there be for you?&rdquo; the reply
+      was obvious.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Amazed, abashed, the two youths turned on their heels.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stay!&rdquo; said the Duke. &ldquo;Let me, in justice to myself, correct an inference
+      you may have drawn. It is not by reason of any defect in myself, perceived
+      or imagined, that Miss Dobson scorns me. She scorns me simply because I
+      love her. All who love her she scorns. To see her is to love her.
+      Therefore shut your eyes to her. Strictly exclude her from your horizon.
+      Ignore her. Will you do this?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We will try,&rdquo; said the one, after a pause.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you very much,&rdquo; added the other.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Duke watched them out of sight. He wished he could take the good
+      advice he had given them... Suppose he did take it! Suppose he went to the
+      Bursar, obtained an exeat, fled straight to London! What just humiliation
+      for Zuleika to come down and find her captive gone! He pictured her
+      staring around the quadrangle, ranging the cloisters, calling to him. He
+      pictured her rustling to the gate of the College, inquiring at the
+      porter&rsquo;s lodge. &ldquo;His Grace, Miss, he passed through a minute ago. He&rsquo;s
+      going down this afternoon.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Yet, even while his fancy luxuriated in this scheme, he well knew that he
+      would not accomplish anything of the kind&mdash;knew well that he would
+      wait here humbly, eagerly, even though Zuleika lingered over her toilet
+      till crack o&rsquo; doom. He had no desire that was not centred in her. Take
+      away his love for her, and what remained? Nothing&mdash;though only in the
+      past twenty-four hours had this love been added to him. Ah, why had he
+      ever seen her? He thought of his past, its cold splendour and insouciance.
+      But he knew that for him there was no returning. His boats were burnt. The
+      Cytherean babes had set their torches to that flotilla, and it had blazed
+      like match-wood. On the isle of the enchantress he was stranded for ever.
+      For ever stranded on the isle of an enchantress who would have nothing to
+      do with him! What, he wondered, should be done in so piteous a quandary?
+      There seemed to be two courses. One was to pine slowly and painfully away.
+      The other...
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Academically, the Duke had often reasoned that a man for whom life holds
+      no chance of happiness cannot too quickly shake life off. Now, of a
+      sudden, there was for that theory a vivid application.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Whether &lsquo;tis nobler in the mind to suffer&rdquo; was not a point by which he,
+      &ldquo;more an antique Roman than a Dane,&rdquo; was at all troubled. Never had he
+      given ear to that cackle which is called Public Opinion. The judgment of
+      his peers&mdash;this, he had often told himself, was the sole arbitrage he
+      could submit to; but then, who was to be on the bench? Peerless, he was
+      irresponsible&mdash;the captain of his soul, the despot of his future. No
+      injunction but from himself would he bow to; and his own injunctions&mdash;so
+      little Danish was he&mdash;had always been peremptory and lucid. Lucid and
+      peremptory, now, the command he issued to himself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So sorry to have been so long,&rdquo; carolled a voice from above. The Duke
+      looked up. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m all but ready,&rdquo; said Zuleika at her window.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That brief apparition changed the colour of his resolve. He realised that
+      to die for love of this lady would be no mere measure of precaution, or
+      counsel of despair. It would be in itself a passionate indulgence&mdash;a
+      fiery rapture, not to be foregone. What better could he ask than to die
+      for his love? Poor indeed seemed to him now the sacrament of marriage
+      beside the sacrament of death. Death was incomparably the greater, the
+      finer soul. Death was the one true bridal.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He flung back his head, spread wide his arms, quickened his pace almost to
+      running speed. Ah, he would win his bride before the setting of the sun.
+      He knew not by what means he would win her. Enough that even now,
+      full-hearted, fleet-footed, he was on his way to her, and that she heard
+      him coming.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When Zuleika, a vision in vaporous white, came out through the postern,
+      she wondered why he was walking at so remarkable a pace. To him, wildly
+      expressing in his movement the thought within him, she appeared as his
+      awful bride. With a cry of joy, he bounded towards her, and would have
+      caught her in his arms, had she not stepped nimbly aside.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Forgive me!&rdquo; he said, after a pause. &ldquo;It was a mistake&mdash;an idiotic
+      mistake of identity. I thought you were...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Zuleika, rigid, asked &ldquo;Have I many doubles?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You know well that in all the world is none so blest as to be like you. I
+      can only say that I was over-wrought. I can only say that it shall not
+      occur again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She was very angry indeed. Of his penitence there could be no doubt. But
+      there are outrages for which no penitence can atone. This seemed to be one
+      of them. Her first impulse was to dismiss the Duke forthwith and for ever.
+      But she wanted to show herself at the races. And she could not go alone.
+      And except the Duke there was no one to take her. True, there was the
+      concert to-night; and she could show herself there to advantage; but she
+      wanted ALL Oxford to see her&mdash;see her NOW.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am forgiven?&rdquo; he asked. In her, I am afraid, self-respect outweighed
+      charity. &ldquo;I will try,&rdquo; she said merely, &ldquo;to forget what you have done.&rdquo;
+       Motioning him to her side, she opened her parasol, and signified her
+      readiness to start.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They passed together across the vast gravelled expanse of the Front
+      Quadrangle. In the porch of the College there were, as usual, some
+      chained-up dogs, patiently awaiting their masters. Zuleika, of course, did
+      not care for dogs. One has never known a good man to whom dogs were not
+      dear; but many of the best women have no such fondness. You will find that
+      the woman who is really kind to dogs is always one who has failed to
+      inspire sympathy in men. For the attractive woman, dogs are mere dumb and
+      restless brutes&mdash;possibly dangerous, certainly soulless. Yet will
+      coquetry teach her to caress any dog in the presence of a man enslaved by
+      her. Even Zuleika, it seems, was not above this rather obvious device for
+      awaking envy. Be sure she did not at all like the look of the very big
+      bulldog who was squatting outside the porter&rsquo;s lodge. Perhaps, but for her
+      present anger, she would not have stooped endearingly down to him, as she
+      did, cooing over him and trying to pat his head. Alas, her pretty act was
+      a failure. The bulldog cowered away from her, horrifically grimacing. This
+      was strange. Like the majority of his breed, Corker (for such was his
+      name) had ever been wistful to be noticed by any one&mdash;effusively
+      grateful for every word or pat, an ever-ready wagger and nuzzler, to none
+      ineffable. No beggar, no burglar, had ever been rebuffed by this catholic
+      beast. But he drew the line at Zuleika.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Seldom is even a fierce bulldog heard to growl. Yet Corker growled at
+      Zuleika.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      VII
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      The Duke did not try to break the stony silence in which Zuleika walked.
+      Her displeasure was a luxury to him, for it was so soon to be dispelled. A
+      little while, and she would be hating herself for her pettiness. Here was
+      he, going to die for her; and here was she, blaming him for a breach of
+      manners. Decidedly, the slave had the whip-hand. He stole a sidelong look
+      at her, and could not repress a smile. His features quickly composed
+      themselves. The Triumph of Death must not be handled as a cheap score. He
+      wanted to die because he would thereby so poignantly consummate his love,
+      express it so completely, once and for all... And she&mdash;who could say
+      that she, knowing what he had done, might not, illogically, come to love
+      him? Perhaps she would devote her life to mourning him. He saw her bending
+      over his tomb, in beautiful humble curves, under a starless sky, watering
+      the violets with her tears.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Shades of Novalis and Friedrich Schlegel and other despicable maunderers!
+      He brushed them aside. He would be practical. The point was, when and how
+      to die? Time: the sooner the better. Manner:.. less easy to determine. He
+      must not die horribly, nor without dignity. The manner of the Roman
+      philosophers? But the only kind of bath which an undergraduate can command
+      is a hip-bath. Stay! there was the river. Drowning (he had often heard)
+      was a rather pleasant sensation. And to the river he was even now on his
+      way.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It troubled him that he could swim. Twice, indeed, from his yacht, he had
+      swum the Hellespont. And how about the animal instinct of
+      self-preservation, strong even in despair? No matter! His soul&rsquo;s set
+      purpose would subdue that. The law of gravitation that brings one to the
+      surface? There his very skill in swimming would help him. He would swim
+      under water, along the river-bed, swim till he found weeds to cling to,
+      weird strong weeds that he would coil round him, exulting faintly...
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As they turned into Radcliffe Square, the Duke&rsquo;s ear caught the sound of a
+      far-distant gun. He started, and looked up at the clock of St. Mary&rsquo;s.
+      Half-past four! The boats had started.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He had heard that whenever a woman was to blame for a disappointment, the
+      best way to avoid a scene was to inculpate oneself. He did not wish
+      Zuleika to store up yet more material for penitence. And so &ldquo;I am sorry,&rdquo;
+       he said. &ldquo;That gun&mdash;did you hear it? It was the signal for the race.
+      I shall never forgive myself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then we shan&rsquo;t see the race at all?&rdquo; cried Zuleika.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It will be over, alas, before we are near the river. All the people will
+      be coming back through the meadows.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let us meet them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Meet a torrent? Let us have tea in my rooms and go down quietly for the
+      other Division.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let us go straight on.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Through the square, across the High, down Grove Street, they passed. The
+      Duke looked up at the tower of Merton, &ldquo;os oupot authis alla nyn
+      paunstaton.&rdquo; Strange that to-night it would still be standing here, in all
+      its sober and solid beauty&mdash;still be gazing, over the roofs and
+      chimneys, at the tower of Magdalen, its rightful bride. Through untold
+      centuries of the future it would stand thus, gaze thus. He winced. Oxford
+      walls have a way of belittling us; and the Duke was loth to regard his
+      doom as trivial.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Aye, by all minerals we are mocked. Vegetables, yearly deciduous, are far
+      more sympathetic. The lilac and laburnum, making lovely now the railed
+      pathway to Christ Church meadow, were all a-swaying and a-nodding to the
+      Duke as he passed by. &ldquo;Adieu, adieu, your Grace,&rdquo; they were whispering.
+      &ldquo;We are very sorry for you&mdash;very sorry indeed. We never dared suppose
+      you would predecease us. We think your death a very great tragedy. Adieu!
+      Perhaps we shall meet in another world&mdash;that is, if the members of
+      the animal kingdom have immortal souls, as we have.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Duke was little versed in their language; yet, as he passed between
+      these gently garrulous blooms, he caught at least the drift of their
+      salutation, and smiled a vague but courteous acknowledgment, to the right
+      and the left alternately, creating a very favourable impression.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      No doubt, the young elms lining the straight way to the barges had seen
+      him coming; but any whispers of their leaves were lost in the murmur of
+      the crowd returning from the race. Here, at length, came the torrent of
+      which the Duke had spoken; and Zuleika&rsquo;s heart rose at it. Here was
+      Oxford! From side to side the avenue was filled with a dense procession of
+      youths&mdash;youths interspersed with maidens whose parasols were as
+      flotsam and jetsam on a seething current of straw hats. Zuleika neither
+      quickened nor slackened her advance. But brightlier and brightlier shone
+      her eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The vanguard of the procession was pausing now, swaying, breaking at sight
+      of her. She passed, imperial, through the way cloven for her. All a-down
+      the avenue, the throng parted as though some great invisible comb were
+      being drawn through it. The few youths who had already seen Zuleika, and
+      by whom her beauty had been bruited throughout the University, were lost
+      in a new wonder, so incomparably fairer was she than the remembered
+      vision. And the rest hardly recognised her from the descriptions, so
+      incomparably fairer was the reality than the hope.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She passed among them. None questioned the worthiness of her escort. Could
+      I give you better proof the awe in which our Duke was held? Any man is
+      glad to be seen escorting a very pretty woman. He thinks it adds to his
+      prestige. Whereas, in point of fact, his fellow-men are saying merely
+      &ldquo;Who&rsquo;s that appalling fellow with her?&rdquo; or &ldquo;Why does she go about with
+      that ass So-and-So?&rdquo; Such cavil may in part be envy. But it is a fact that
+      no man, howsoever graced, can shine in juxtaposition to a very pretty
+      woman. The Duke himself cut a poor figure beside Zuleika. Yet not one of
+      all the undergraduates felt she could have made a wiser choice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She swept among them. Her own intrinsic radiance was not all that flashed
+      from her. She was a moving reflector and refractor of all the rays of all
+      the eyes that mankind had turned on her. Her mien told the story of her
+      days. Bright eyes, light feet&mdash;she trod erect from a vista whose
+      glare was dazzling to all beholders. She swept among them, a miracle,
+      overwhelming, breath-bereaving. Nothing at all like her had ever been seen
+      in Oxford.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mainly architectural, the beauties of Oxford. True, the place is no longer
+      one-sexed. There are the virguncules of Somerville and Lady Margaret&rsquo;s
+      Hall; but beauty and the lust for learning have yet to be allied. There
+      are the innumerable wives and daughters around the Parks, running in and
+      out of their little red-brick villas; but the indignant shade of celibacy
+      seems to have called down on the dons a Nemesis which precludes them from
+      either marrying beauty or begetting it. (From the Warden&rsquo;s son, that
+      unhappy curate, Zuleika inherited no tittle of her charm. Some of it,
+      there is no doubt, she did inherit from the circus-rider who was her
+      mother.)
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But the casual feminine visitors? Well, the sisters and cousins of an
+      undergraduate seldom seem more passable to his comrades than to himself.
+      Altogether, the instinct of sex is not pandered to in Oxford. It is not,
+      however, as it may once have been, dormant. The modern importation of
+      samples of femininity serves to keep it alert, though not to gratify it. A
+      like result is achieved by another modern development&mdash;photography.
+      The undergraduate may, and usually does, surround himself with photographs
+      of pretty ladies known to the public. A phantom harem! Yet the houris have
+      an effect on their sultan. Surrounded both by plain women of flesh and
+      blood and by beauteous women on pasteboard, the undergraduate is the
+      easiest victim of living loveliness&mdash;is as a fire ever well and truly
+      laid, amenable to a spark. And if the spark be such a flaring torch as
+      Zuleika?&mdash;marvel not, reader, at the conflagration.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Not only was the whole throng of youths drawing asunder before her: much
+      of it, as she passed, was forming up in her wake. Thus, with the
+      confluence of two masses&mdash;one coming away from the river, the other
+      returning to it&mdash;chaos seethed around her and the Duke before they
+      were half-way along the avenue. Behind them, and on either side of them,
+      the people were crushed inextricably together, swaying and surging this
+      way and that. &ldquo;Help!&rdquo; cried many a shrill feminine voice. &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t push!&rdquo;
+       &ldquo;Let me out!&rdquo; &ldquo;You brute!&rdquo; &ldquo;Save me, save me!&rdquo; Many ladies fainted, whilst
+      their escorts, supporting them and protecting them as best they could,
+      peered over the heads of their fellows for one glimpse of the divine Miss
+      Dobson. Yet for her and the Duke, in the midst of the terrific compress,
+      there was space enough. In front of them, as by a miracle of deference, a
+      way still cleared itself. They reached the end of the avenue without a
+      pause in their measured progress. Nor even when they turned to the left,
+      along the rather narrow path beside the barges, was there any obstacle to
+      their advance. Passing evenly forward, they alone were cool, unhustled,
+      undishevelled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Duke was so rapt in his private thoughts that he was hardly conscious
+      of the strange scene. And as for Zuleika, she, as well she might be, was
+      in the very best of good humours.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What a lot of house-boats!&rdquo; she exclaimed. &ldquo;Are you going to take me on
+      to one of them?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Duke started. Already they were alongside the Judas barge. &ldquo;Here,&rdquo; he
+      said, &ldquo;is our goal.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He stepped through the gate of the railings, out upon the plank, and
+      offered her his hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She looked back. The young men in the vanguard were crushing their
+      shoulders against the row behind them, to stay the oncoming host. She had
+      half a mind to go back through the midst of them; but she really did want
+      her tea, and she followed the Duke on to the barge, and under his auspices
+      climbed the steps to the roof.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It looked very cool and gay, this roof, under its awning of red and white
+      stripes. Nests of red and white flowers depended along either side of it.
+      Zuleika moved to the side which commanded a view of the bank. She leaned
+      her arms on the balustrade, and gazed down.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The crowd stretched as far as she could see&mdash;a vista of faces
+      upturned to her. Suddenly it hove forward. Its vanguard was swept
+      irresistibly past the barge&mdash;swept by the desire of the rest to see
+      her at closer quarters. Such was the impetus that the vision for each man
+      was but a lightning-flash: he was whirled past, struggling, almost before
+      his brain took the message of his eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Those who were Judas men made frantic efforts to board the barge, trying
+      to hurl themselves through the gate in the railings; but they were swept
+      vainly on.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently the torrent began to slacken, became a mere river, a mere
+      procession of youths staring up rather shyly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Before the last stragglers had marched by, Zuleika moved away to the other
+      side of the roof, and, after a glance at the sunlit river, sank into one
+      of the wicker chairs, and asked the Duke to look less disagreeable and to
+      give her some tea.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Among others hovering near the little buffet were the two youths whose
+      parley with the Duke I have recorded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Zuleika was aware of the special persistence of their gaze. When the Duke
+      came back with her cup, she asked him who they were. He replied,
+      truthfully enough, that their names were unknown to him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;ask them their names, and introduce them to me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; said the Duke, sinking into the chair beside her. &ldquo;That I shall not
+      do. I am your victim: not your pander. Those two men stand on the
+      threshold of a possibly useful and agreeable career. I am not going to
+      trip them up for you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am not sure,&rdquo; said Zuleika, &ldquo;that you are very polite. Certainly you
+      are foolish. It is natural for boys to fall in love. If these two are in
+      love with me, why not let them talk to me? It were an experience on which
+      they would always look back with romantic pleasure. They may never see me
+      again. Why grudge them this little thing?&rdquo; She sipped her tea. &ldquo;As for
+      tripping them up on a threshold&mdash;that is all nonsense. What harm has
+      unrequited love ever done to anybody?&rdquo; She laughed. &ldquo;Look at ME! When I
+      came to your rooms this morning, thinking I loved in vain, did I seem one
+      jot the worse for it? Did I look different?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You looked, I am bound to say, nobler, more spiritual.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;More spiritual?&rdquo; she exclaimed. &ldquo;Do you mean I looked tired or ill?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, you seemed quite fresh. But then, you are singular. You are no
+      criterion.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You mean you can&rsquo;t judge those two young men by me? Well, I am only a
+      woman, of course. I have heard of women, no longer young, wasting away
+      because no man loved them. I have often heard of a young woman fretting
+      because some particular young man didn&rsquo;t love her. But I never heard of
+      her wasting away. Certainly a young man doesn&rsquo;t waste away for love of
+      some particular young woman. He very soon makes love to some other one. If
+      his be an ardent nature, the quicker his transition. All the most ardent
+      of my past adorers have married. Will you put my cup down, please?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Past?&rdquo; echoed the Duke, as he placed her cup on the floor. &ldquo;Have any of
+      your lovers ceased to love you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah no, no; not in retrospect. I remain their ideal, and all that, of
+      course. They cherish the thought of me. They see the world in terms of me.
+      But I am an inspiration, not an obsession; a glow, not a blight.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You don&rsquo;t believe in the love that corrodes, the love that ruins?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; laughed Zuleika.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have never dipped into the Greek pastoral poets, nor sampled the
+      Elizabethan sonneteers?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, never. You will think me lamentably crude: my experience of life has
+      been drawn from life itself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yet often you talk as though you had read rather much. Your way of speech
+      has what is called &lsquo;the literary flavour&rsquo;.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, that is an unfortunate trick which I caught from a writer, a Mr.
+      Beerbohm, who once sat next to me at dinner somewhere. I can&rsquo;t break
+      myself of it. I assure you I hardly ever open a book. Of life, though, my
+      experience has been very wide. Brief? But I suppose the soul of man during
+      the past two or three years has been much as it was in the reign of Queen
+      Elizabeth and of&mdash;whoever it was that reigned over the Greek
+      pastures. And I daresay the modern poets are making the same old silly
+      distortions. But forgive me,&rdquo; she added gently, &ldquo;perhaps you yourself are
+      a poet?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Only since yesterday,&rdquo; answered the Duke (not less unfairly to himself
+      than to Roger Newdigate and Thomas Gaisford). And he felt he was
+      especially a dramatic poet. All the while that she had been sitting by him
+      here, talking so glibly, looking so straight into his eyes, flashing at
+      him so many pretty gestures, it was the sense of tragic irony that
+      prevailed in him&mdash;that sense which had stirred in him, and been
+      repressed, on the way from Judas. He knew that she was making her effect
+      consciously for the other young men by whom the roof of the barge was now
+      thronged. Him alone she seemed to observe. By her manner, she might have
+      seemed to be making love to him. He envied the men she was so deliberately
+      making envious&mdash;the men whom, in her undertone to him, she was really
+      addressing. But he did take comfort in the irony. Though she used him as a
+      stalking-horse, he, after all, was playing with her as a cat plays with a
+      mouse. While she chattered on, without an inkling that he was no ordinary
+      lover, and coaxing him to present two quite ordinary young men to her, he
+      held over her the revelation that he for love of her was about to die.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And, while he drank in the radiance of her beauty, he heard her chattering
+      on. &ldquo;So you see,&rdquo; she was saying, &ldquo;it couldn&rsquo;t do those young men any
+      harm. Suppose unrequited love IS anguish: isn&rsquo;t the discipline wholesome?
+      Suppose I AM a sort of furnace: shan&rsquo;t I purge, refine, temper? Those two
+      boys are but scorched from here. That is horrid; and what good will it do
+      them?&rdquo; She laid a hand on his arm. &ldquo;Cast them into the furnace for their
+      own sake, dear Duke! Or cast one of them, or,&rdquo; she added, glancing round
+      at the throng, &ldquo;any one of these others!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For their own sake?&rdquo; he echoed, withdrawing his arm. &ldquo;If you were not, as
+      the whole world knows you to be, perfectly respectable, there might be
+      something in what you say. But as it is, you can but be an engine for
+      mischief; and your sophistries leave me unmoved. I shall certainly keep
+      you to myself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hate you,&rdquo; said Zuleika, with an ugly petulance that crowned the irony.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So long as I live,&rdquo; uttered the Duke, in a level voice, &ldquo;you will address
+      no man but me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If your prophecy is to be fulfilled,&rdquo; laughed Zuleika, rising from her
+      chair, &ldquo;your last moment is at hand.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is,&rdquo; he answered, rising too.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do you mean?&rdquo; she asked, awed by something in his tone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I mean what I say: that my last moment is at hand.&rdquo; He withdrew his eyes
+      from hers, and, leaning his elbows on the balustrade, gazed thoughtfully
+      at the river. &ldquo;When I am dead,&rdquo; he added, over his shoulder, &ldquo;you will
+      find these fellows rather coy of your advances.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      For the first time since his avowal of his love for her, Zuleika found
+      herself genuinely interested in him. A suspicion of his meaning had
+      flashed through her soul.&mdash;But no! surely he could not mean THAT! It
+      must have been a metaphor merely. And yet, something in his eyes... She
+      leaned beside him. Her shoulder touched his. She gazed questioningly at
+      him. He did not turn his face to her. He gazed at the sunlit river.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Judas Eight had just embarked for their voyage to the starting-point.
+      Standing on the edge of the raft that makes a floating platform for the
+      barge, William, the hoary bargee, was pushing them off with his boat-hook,
+      wishing them luck with deferential familiarity. The raft was thronged with
+      Old Judasians&mdash;mostly clergymen&mdash;who were shouting hearty
+      hortations, and evidently trying not to appear so old as they felt&mdash;or
+      rather, not to appear so startlingly old as their contemporaries looked to
+      them. It occurred to the Duke as a strange thing, and a thing to be glad
+      of, that he, in this world, would never be an Old Judasian. Zuleika&rsquo;s
+      shoulder pressed his. He thrilled not at all. To all intents, he was dead
+      already.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The enormous eight young men in the thread-like skiff&mdash;the skiff that
+      would scarce have seemed an adequate vehicle for the tiny &ldquo;cox&rdquo; who sat
+      facing them&mdash;were staring up at Zuleika with that uniformity of
+      impulse which, in another direction, had enabled them to bump a boat on
+      two of the previous &ldquo;nights.&rdquo; If to-night they bumped the next boat,
+      Univ., then would Judas be three places &ldquo;up&rdquo; on the river; and to-morrow
+      Judas would have a Bump Supper. Furthermore, if Univ. were bumped
+      to-night, Magdalen might be bumped to-morrow. Then would Judas, for the
+      first time in history, be head of the river. Oh tremulous hope! Yet, for
+      the moment, these eight young men seemed to have forgotten the awful
+      responsibility that rested on their over-developed shoulders. Their
+      hearts, already strained by rowing, had been transfixed this afternoon by
+      Eros&rsquo; darts. All of them had seen Zuleika as she came down to the river;
+      and now they sat gaping up at her, fumbling with their oars. The tiny cox
+      gaped too; but he it was who first recalled duty. With piping adjurations
+      he brought the giants back to their senses. The boat moved away down
+      stream, with a fairly steady stroke.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Not in a day can the traditions of Oxford be sent spinning. From all the
+      barges the usual punt-loads of young men were being ferried across to the
+      towing-path&mdash;young men naked of knee, armed with rattles, post-horns,
+      motor-hooters, gongs, and other instruments of clangour. Though Zuleika
+      filled their thoughts, they hurried along the towing-path, as by custom,
+      to the starting-point.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She, meanwhile, had not taken her eyes off the Duke&rsquo;s profile. Nor had she
+      dared, for fear of disappointment, to ask him just what he had meant.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All these men,&rdquo; he repeated dreamily, &ldquo;will be coy of your advances.&rdquo; It
+      seemed to him a good thing that his death, his awful example, would
+      disinfatuate his fellow alumni. He had never been conscious of public
+      spirit. He had lived for himself alone. Love had come to him yesternight,
+      and to-day had waked in him a sympathy with mankind. It was a fine thing
+      to be a saviour. It was splendid to be human. He looked quickly round to
+      her who had wrought this change in him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But the loveliest face in all the world will not please you if you see it
+      suddenly, eye to eye, at a distance of half an inch from your own. It was
+      thus that the Duke saw Zuleika&rsquo;s: a monstrous deliquium a-glare. Only for
+      the fraction of an instant, though. Recoiling, he beheld the loveliness
+      that he knew&mdash;more adorably vivid now in its look of eager
+      questioning. And in his every fibre he thrilled to her. Even so had she
+      gazed at him last night, this morning. Aye, now as then, her soul was full
+      of him. He had recaptured, not her love, but his power to please her. It
+      was enough. He bowed his head; and &ldquo;Moriturus te saluto&rdquo; were the words
+      formed silently by his lips. He was glad that his death would be a public
+      service to the University. But the salutary lesson of what the newspapers
+      would call his &ldquo;rash act&rdquo; was, after all, only a side-issue. The great
+      thing, the prospect that flushed his cheek, was the consummation of his
+      own love, for its own sake, by his own death. And, as he met her gaze, the
+      question that had already flitted through his brain found a faltering
+      utterance; and &ldquo;Shall you mourn me?&rdquo; he asked her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But she would have no ellipses. &ldquo;What are you going to do?&rdquo; she whispered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you not know?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Once and for all: you cannot love me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Slowly she shook her head. The black pearl and the pink, quivering, gave
+      stress to her ultimatum. But the violet of her eyes was all but hidden by
+      the dilation of her pupils.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then,&rdquo; whispered the Duke, &ldquo;when I shall have died, deeming life a vain
+      thing without you, will the gods give you tears for me? Miss Dobson, will
+      your soul awaken? When I shall have sunk for ever beneath these waters
+      whose supposed purpose here this afternoon is but that they be ploughed by
+      the blades of these young oarsmen, will there be struck from that flint,
+      your heart, some late and momentary spark of pity for me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why of course, of COURSE!&rdquo; babbled Zuleika, with clasped hands and
+      dazzling eyes. &ldquo;But,&rdquo; she curbed herself, &ldquo;it is&mdash;it would&mdash;oh,
+      you mustn&rsquo;t THINK of it! I couldn&rsquo;t allow it! I&mdash;I should never
+      forgive myself!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In fact, you would mourn me always?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why yes!.. Y-es-always.&rdquo; What else could she say? But would his answer be
+      that he dared not condemn her to lifelong torment?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then,&rdquo; his answer was, &ldquo;my joy in dying for you is made perfect.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Her muscles relaxed. Her breath escaped between her teeth. &ldquo;You are
+      utterly resolved?&rdquo; she asked. &ldquo;Are you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Utterly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nothing I might say could change your purpose?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nothing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No entreaty, howsoever piteous, could move you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;None.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Forthwith she urged, entreated, cajoled, commanded, with infinite
+      prettiness of ingenuity and of eloquence. Never was such a cascade of
+      dissuasion as hers. She only didn&rsquo;t say she could love him. She never
+      hinted that. Indeed, throughout her pleading rang this recurrent motif:
+      that he must live to take to himself as mate some good, serious, clever
+      woman who would be a not unworthy mother of his children.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She laid stress on his youth, his great position, his brilliant
+      attainments, the much he had already achieved, the splendid possibilities
+      of his future. Though of course she spoke in undertones, not to be
+      overheard by the throng on the barge, it was almost as though his health
+      were being floridly proposed at some public banquet&mdash;say, at a
+      Tenants&rsquo; Dinner. Insomuch that, when she ceased, the Duke half expected
+      Jellings, his steward, to bob up uttering, with lifted hands, a stentorian
+      &ldquo;For-or,&rdquo; and all the company to take up the chant: &ldquo;he&rsquo;s&mdash;a jolly
+      good fellow.&rdquo; His brief reply, on those occasions, seemed always to
+      indicate that, whatever else he might be, a jolly good fellow he was not.
+      But by Zuleika&rsquo;s eulogy he really was touched. &ldquo;Thank you&mdash;thank
+      you,&rdquo; he gasped; and there were tears in his eyes. Dear the thought that
+      she so revered him, so wished him not to die. But this was no more than a
+      rush-light in the austere radiance of his joy in dying for her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And the time was come. Now for the sacrament of his immersion in infinity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good-bye,&rdquo; he said simply, and was about to swing himself on to the ledge
+      of the balustrade. Zuleika, divining his intention, made way for him. Her
+      bosom heaved quickly, quickly. All colour had left her face; but her eyes
+      shone as never before.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Already his foot was on the ledge, when hark! the sound of a distant gun.
+      To Zuleika, with all the chords of her soul strung to the utmost tensity,
+      the effect was as if she herself had been shot; and she clutched at the
+      Duke&rsquo;s arm, like a frightened child. He laughed. &ldquo;It was the signal for
+      the race,&rdquo; he said, and laughed again, rather bitterly, at the crude and
+      trivial interruption of high matters.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The race?&rdquo; She laughed hysterically.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. &lsquo;They&rsquo;re off&rsquo;.&rdquo; He mingled his laughter with hers, gently seeking to
+      disengage his arm. &ldquo;And perhaps,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I, clinging to the weeds of
+      the river&rsquo;s bed, shall see dimly the boats and the oars pass over me, and
+      shall be able to gurgle a cheer for Judas.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t!&rdquo; she shuddered, with a woman&rsquo;s notion that a jest means levity. A
+      tumult of thoughts surged in her, all confused. She only knew that he must
+      not die&mdash;not yet! A moment ago, his death would have been beautiful.
+      Not now! Her grip of his arm tightened. Only by breaking her wrist could
+      he have freed himself. A moment ago, she had been in the seventh-heaven...
+      Men were supposed to have died for love of her. It had never been proved.
+      There had always been something&mdash;card-debts, ill-health, what not&mdash;to
+      account for the tragedy. No man, to the best of her recollection, had ever
+      hinted that he was going to die for her. Never, assuredly, had she seen
+      the deed done. And then came he, the first man she had loved, going to die
+      here, before her eyes, because she no longer loved him. But she knew now
+      that he must not die&mdash;not yet!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      All around her was the hush that falls on Oxford when the signal for the
+      race has sounded. In the distance could be heard faintly the noise of
+      cheering&mdash;a little sing-song sound, drawing nearer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ah, how could she have thought of letting him die so soon? She gazed into
+      his face&mdash;the face she might never have seen again. Even now, but for
+      that gun-shot, the waters would have closed over him, and his soul, maybe,
+      have passed away. She had saved him, thank heaven! She had him still with
+      her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Gently, vainly, he still sought to unclasp her fingers from his arm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not now!&rdquo; she whispered. &ldquo;Not yet!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And the noise of the cheering, and of the trumpeting and rattling, as it
+      drew near, was an accompaniment to her joy in having saved her lover. She
+      would keep him with her&mdash;for a while! Let all be done in order. She
+      would savour the full sweetness of his sacrifice. Tomorrow&mdash;to-morrow,
+      yes, let him have his heart&rsquo;s desire of death. Not now! Not yet!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To-morrow,&rdquo; she whispered, &ldquo;to-morrow, if you will. Not yet!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The first boat came jerking past in mid-stream; and the towing-path, with
+      its serried throng of runners, was like a live thing, keeping pace. As in
+      a dream, Zuleika saw it. And the din was in her ears. No heroine of Wagner
+      had ever a louder accompaniment than had ours to the surging soul within
+      her bosom.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And the Duke, tightly held by her, vibrated as to a powerful electric
+      current. He let her cling to him, and her magnetism range through him. Ah,
+      it was good not to have died! Fool, he had meant to drain off-hand, at one
+      coarse draught, the delicate wine of death. He would let his lips caress
+      the brim of the august goblet. He would dally with the aroma that was
+      there.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So be it!&rdquo; he cried into Zuleika&rsquo;s ear&mdash;cried loudly, for it seemed
+      as though all the Wagnerian orchestras of Europe, with the Straussian ones
+      thrown in, were here to clash in unison the full volume of right music for
+      the glory of the reprieve.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The fact was that the Judas boat had just bumped Univ., exactly opposite
+      the Judas barge. The oarsmen in either boat sat humped, panting, some of
+      them rocking and writhing, after their wholesome exercise. But there was
+      not one of them whose eyes were not upcast at Zuleika. And the
+      vocalisation and instrumentation of the dancers and stampers on the
+      towing-path had by this time ceased to mean aught of joy in the victors or
+      of comfort for the vanquished, and had resolved itself into a wild
+      wordless hymn to the glory of Miss Dobson. Behind her and all around her
+      on the roof of the barge, young Judasians were venting in like manner
+      their hearts through their lungs. She paid no heed. It was as if she stood
+      alone with her lover on some silent pinnacle of the world. It was as if
+      she were a little girl with a brand-new and very expensive doll which had
+      banished all the little other old toys from her mind.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She simply could not, in her naive rapture, take her eyes off her
+      companion. To the dancers and stampers of the towing-path, many of whom
+      were now being ferried back across the river, and to the other youths on
+      the roof of the barge, Zuleika&rsquo;s air of absorption must have seemed a
+      little strange. For already the news that the Duke loved Zuleika, and that
+      she loved him not, and would stoop to no man who loved her, had spread
+      like wild-fire among the undergraduates. The two youths in whom the Duke
+      had deigned to confide had not held their peace. And the effect that
+      Zuleika had made as she came down to the river was intensified by the
+      knowledge that not the great paragon himself did she deem worthy of her.
+      The mere sight of her had captured young Oxford. The news of her supernal
+      haughtiness had riveted the chains.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come!&rdquo; said the Duke at length, staring around him with the eyes of one
+      awakened from a dream. &ldquo;Come! I must take you back to Judas.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But you won&rsquo;t leave me there?&rdquo; pleaded Zuleika. &ldquo;You will stay to dinner?
+      I am sure my grandfather would be delighted.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am sure he would,&rdquo; said the Duke, as he piloted her down the steps of
+      the barge. &ldquo;But alas, I have to dine at the Junta to-night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Junta? What is that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A little dining-club. It meets every Tuesday.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But&mdash;you don&rsquo;t mean you are going to refuse me for that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To do so is misery. But I have no choice. I have asked a guest.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then ask another: ask me!&rdquo; Zuleika&rsquo;s notions of Oxford life were rather
+      hazy. It was with difficulty that the Duke made her realise that he could
+      not&mdash;not even if, as she suggested, she dressed herself up as a man&mdash;invite
+      her to the Junta. She then fell back on the impossibility that he would
+      not dine with her to-night, his last night in this world. She could not
+      understand that admirable fidelity to social engagements which is one of
+      the virtues implanted in the members of our aristocracy. Bohemian by
+      training and by career, she construed the Duke&rsquo;s refusal as either a cruel
+      slight to herself or an act of imbecility. The thought of being parted
+      from her for one moment was torture to him; but &ldquo;noblesse oblige,&rdquo; and it
+      was quite impossible for him to break an engagement merely because a more
+      charming one offered itself: he would as soon have cheated at cards.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And so, as they went side by side up the avenue, in the mellow light of
+      the westering sun, preceded in their course, and pursued, and surrounded,
+      by the mob of hoarse infatuate youths, Zuleika&rsquo;s face was as that of a
+      little girl sulking. Vainly the Duke reasoned with her. She could NOT see
+      the point of view.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      With that sudden softening that comes to the face of an angry woman who
+      has hit on a good argument, she turned to him and asked &ldquo;How if I hadn&rsquo;t
+      saved your life just now? Much you thought about your guest when you were
+      going to dive and die!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I did not forget him,&rdquo; answered the Duke, smiling at her casuistry. &ldquo;Nor
+      had I any scruple in disappointing him. Death cancels all engagements.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And Zuleika, worsted, resumed her sulking. But presently, as they neared
+      Judas, she relented. It was paltry to be cross with him who had resolved
+      to die for her and was going to die so on the morrow. And after all, she
+      would see him at the concert to-night. They would sit together. And all
+      to-morrow they would be together, till the time came for parting. Hers was
+      a naturally sunny disposition. And the evening was such a lovely one, all
+      bathed in gold. She was ashamed of her ill-humour.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Forgive me,&rdquo; she said, touching his arm. &ldquo;Forgive me for being horrid.&rdquo;
+       And forgiven she promptly was. &ldquo;And promise you will spend all to-morrow
+      with me.&rdquo; And of course he promised.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As they stood together on the steps of the Warden&rsquo;s front-door, exalted
+      above the level of the flushed and swaying crowd that filled the whole
+      length and breadth of Judas Street, she implored him not to be late for
+      the concert.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am never late,&rdquo; he smiled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, you&rsquo;re so beautifully brought up!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The door was opened.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And&mdash;oh, you&rsquo;re beautiful besides!&rdquo; she whispered; and waved her
+      hand to him as she vanished into the hall.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      VIII
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      A few minutes before half-past seven, the Duke, arrayed for dinner, passed
+      leisurely up the High. The arresting feature of his costume was a
+      mulberry-coloured coat, with brass buttons. This, to any one versed in
+      Oxford lore, betokened him a member of the Junta. It is awful to think
+      that a casual stranger might have mistaken him for a footman. It does not
+      do to think of such things.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The tradesmen, at the doors of their shops, bowed low as he passed,
+      rubbing their hands and smiling, hoping inwardly that they took no liberty
+      in sharing the cool rosy air of the evening with his Grace. They noted
+      that he wore in his shirt-front a black pearl and a pink. &ldquo;Daring, but
+      becoming,&rdquo; they opined.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The rooms of the Junta were over a stationer&rsquo;s shop, next door but one to
+      the Mitre. They were small rooms; but as the Junta had now, besides the
+      Duke, only two members, and as no member might introduce more than one
+      guest, there was ample space.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Duke had been elected in his second term. At that time there were four
+      members; but these were all leaving Oxford at the end of the summer term,
+      and there seemed to be in the ranks of the Bullingdon and the Loder no one
+      quite eligible for the Junta, that holy of holies. Thus it was that the
+      Duke inaugurated in solitude his second year of membership. From time to
+      time, he proposed and seconded a few candidates, after &ldquo;sounding&rdquo; them as
+      to whether they were willing to join. But always, when election evening&mdash;the
+      last Tuesday of term&mdash;drew near, he began to have his doubts about
+      these fellows. This one was &ldquo;rowdy&rdquo;; that one was over-dressed; another
+      did not ride quite straight to hounds; in the pedigree of another a
+      bar-sinister was more than suspected. Election evening was always a rather
+      melancholy time. After dinner, when the two club servants had placed on
+      the mahogany the time-worn Candidates&rsquo; Book and the ballot-box, and had
+      noiselessly withdrawn, the Duke, clearing his throat, read aloud to
+      himself &ldquo;Mr. So-and-So, of Such-and-Such College, proposed by the Duke of
+      Dorset, seconded by the Duke of Dorset,&rdquo; and, in every case, when he drew
+      out the drawer of the ballot-box, found it was a black-ball that he had
+      dropped into the urn. Thus it was that at the end of the summer term the
+      annual photographic &ldquo;group&rdquo; taken by Messrs. Hills and Saunders was a
+      presentment of the Duke alone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the course of his third year he had become less exclusive. Not because
+      there seemed to be any one really worthy of the Junta; but because the
+      Junta, having thriven since the eighteenth century, must not die. Suppose&mdash;one
+      never knew&mdash;he were struck by lightning, the Junta would be no more.
+      So, not without reluctance, but unanimously, he had elected The MacQuern,
+      of Balliol, and Sir John Marraby, of Brasenose.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      To-night, as he, a doomed man, went up into the familiar rooms, he was
+      wholly glad that he had thus relented. As yet, he was spared the tragic
+      knowledge that it would make no difference.*
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+   * The Junta has been reconstituted. But the apostolic line was
+     broken, the thread was snapped; the old magic is fled.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      The MacQuern and two other young men were already there.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. President,&rdquo; said The MacQuern, &ldquo;I present Mr. Trent-Garby, of Christ
+      Church.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Junta is honoured,&rdquo; said the Duke, bowing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Such was the ritual of the club.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The other young man, because his host, Sir John Marraby, was not yet on
+      the scene, had no locus standi, and, though a friend of The MacQuern, and
+      well known to the Duke, had to be ignored.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A moment later, Sir John arrived. &ldquo;Mr. President,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I present
+      Lord Sayes, of Magdalen.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Junta is honoured,&rdquo; said the Duke, bowing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Both hosts and both guests, having been prominent in the throng that
+      vociferated around Zuleika an hour earlier, were slightly abashed in the
+      Duke&rsquo;s presence. He, however, had not noticed any one in particular, and,
+      even if he had, that fine tradition of the club&mdash;&ldquo;A member of the
+      Junta can do no wrong; a guest of the Junta cannot err&rdquo;&mdash;would have
+      prevented him from showing his displeasure.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A Herculean figure filled the doorway.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Junta is honoured,&rdquo; said the Duke, bowing to his guest.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Duke,&rdquo; said the newcomer quietly, &ldquo;the honour is as much mine as that of
+      the interesting and ancient institution which I am this night privileged
+      to inspect.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Turning to Sir John and The MacQuern, the Duke said &ldquo;I present Mr.
+      Abimelech V. Oover, of Trinity.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Junta,&rdquo; they replied, &ldquo;is honoured.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Gentlemen,&rdquo; said the Rhodes Scholar, &ldquo;your good courtesy is just such as
+      I would have anticipated from members of the ancient Junta. Like most of
+      my countrymen, I am a man of few words. We are habituated out there to act
+      rather than talk. Judged from the view-point of your beautiful old
+      civilisation, I am aware my curtness must seem crude. But, gentlemen,
+      believe me, right here&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dinner is served, your Grace.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Thus interrupted, Mr. Oover, with the resourcefulness of a practised
+      orator, brought his thanks to a quick but not abrupt conclusion. The
+      little company passed into the front room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Through the window, from the High, fading daylight mingled with the
+      candle-light. The mulberry coats of the hosts, interspersed by the black
+      ones of the guests, made a fine pattern around the oval table a-gleam with
+      the many curious pieces of gold and silver plate that had accrued to the
+      Junta in course of years.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The President showed much deference to his guest. He seemed to listen with
+      close attention to the humorous anecdote with which, in the American
+      fashion, Mr. Oover inaugurated dinner.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      To all Rhodes Scholars, indeed, his courtesy was invariable. He went out
+      of his way to cultivate them. And this he did more as a favour to Lord
+      Milner than of his own caprice. He found these Scholars, good fellows
+      though they were, rather oppressive. They had not&mdash;how could they
+      have?&mdash;the undergraduate&rsquo;s virtue of taking Oxford as a matter of
+      course. The Germans loved it too little, the Colonials too much. The
+      Americans were, to a sensitive observer, the most troublesome&mdash;as
+      being the most troubled&mdash;of the whole lot. The Duke was not one of
+      those Englishmen who fling, or care to hear flung, cheap sneers at
+      America. Whenever any one in his presence said that America was not large
+      in area, he would firmly maintain that it was. He held, too, in his
+      enlightened way, that Americans have a perfect right to exist. But he did
+      often find himself wishing Mr. Rhodes had not enabled them to exercise
+      that right in Oxford. They were so awfully afraid of having their
+      strenuous native characters undermined by their delight in the place. They
+      held that the future was theirs, a glorious asset, far more glorious than
+      the past. But a theory, as the Duke saw, is one thing, an emotion another.
+      It is so much easier to covet what one hasn&rsquo;t than to revel in what one
+      has. Also, it is so much easier to be enthusiastic about what exists than
+      about what doesn&rsquo;t. The future doesn&rsquo;t exist. The past does. For, whereas
+      all men can learn, the gift of prophecy has died out. A man cannot work up
+      in his breast any real excitement about what possibly won&rsquo;t happen. He
+      cannot very well help being sentimentally interested in what he knows has
+      happened. On the other hand, he owes a duty to his country. And, if his
+      country be America, he ought to try to feel a vivid respect for the
+      future, and a cold contempt for the past. Also, if he be selected by his
+      country as a specimen of the best moral, physical, and intellectual type
+      that she can produce for the astounding of the effete foreigner, and
+      incidentally for the purpose of raising that foreigner&rsquo;s tone, he must&mdash;mustn&rsquo;t
+      he?&mdash;do his best to astound, to exalt. But then comes in this
+      difficulty. Young men don&rsquo;t like to astound and exalt their fellows. And
+      Americans, individually, are of all people the most anxious to please.
+      That they talk overmuch is often taken as a sign of self-satisfaction. It
+      is merely a mannerism. Rhetoric is a thing inbred in them. They are quite
+      unconscious of it. It is as natural to them as breathing. And, while they
+      talk on, they really do believe that they are a quick, businesslike
+      people, by whom things are &ldquo;put through&rdquo; with an almost brutal abruptness.
+      This notion of theirs is rather confusing to the patient English auditor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Altogether, the American Rhodes Scholars, with their splendid native gift
+      of oratory, and their modest desire to please, and their not less evident
+      feeling that they ought merely to edify, and their constant delight in all
+      that of Oxford their English brethren don&rsquo;t notice, and their constant
+      fear that they are being corrupted, are a noble, rather than a
+      comfortable, element in the social life of the University. So, at least,
+      they seemed to the Duke.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And to-night, but that he had invited Oover to dine with him, he could
+      have been dining with Zuleika. And this was his last dinner on earth. Such
+      thoughts made him the less able to take pleasure in his guest. Perfect,
+      however, the amenity of his manner.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This was the more commendable because Oover&rsquo;s &ldquo;aura&rdquo; was even more
+      disturbing than that of the average Rhodes Scholar. To-night, besides the
+      usual conflicts in this young man&rsquo;s bosom, raged a special one between his
+      desire to behave well and his jealousy of the man who had to-day been Miss
+      Dobson&rsquo;s escort. In theory he denied the Duke&rsquo;s right to that honour. In
+      sentiment he admitted it. Another conflict, you see. And another. He
+      longed to orate about the woman who had his heart; yet she was the one
+      topic that must be shirked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The MacQuern and Mr. Trent-Garby, Sir John Marraby and Lord Sayes, they
+      too&mdash;though they were no orators&mdash;would fain have unpacked their
+      hearts in words about Zuleika. They spoke of this and that, automatically,
+      none listening to another&mdash;each man listening, wide-eyed, to his own
+      heart&rsquo;s solo on the Zuleika theme, and drinking rather more champagne than
+      was good for him. Maybe, these youths sowed in themselves, on this night,
+      the seeds of lifelong intemperance. We cannot tell. They did not live long
+      enough for us to know.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      While the six dined, a seventh, invisible to them, leaned moodily against
+      the mantel-piece, watching them. He was not of their time. His long brown
+      hair was knotted in a black riband behind. He wore a pale brocaded coat
+      and lace ruffles, silken stockings, a sword. Privy to their doom, he
+      watched them. He was loth that his Junta must die. Yes, his. Could the
+      diners have seen him, they would have known him by his resemblance to the
+      mezzotint portrait that hung on the wall above him. They would have risen
+      to their feet in presence of Humphrey Greddon, founder and first president
+      of the club.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His face was not so oval, nor were his eyes so big, nor his lips so full,
+      nor his hands so delicate, as they appeared in the mezzotint. Yet (bating
+      the conventions of eighteenth-century portraiture) the likeness was a good
+      one. Humphrey Greddon was not less well-knit and graceful than the painter
+      had made him, and, hard though the lines of the face were, there was about
+      him a certain air of high romance that could not be explained away by the
+      fact that he was of a period not our own. You could understand the great
+      love that Nellie O&rsquo;Mora had borne him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Under the mezzotint hung Hoppner&rsquo;s miniature of that lovely and
+      ill-starred girl, with her soft dark eyes, and her curls all astray from
+      beneath her little blue turban. And the Duke was telling Mr. Oover her
+      story&mdash;how she had left her home for Humphrey Greddon when she was
+      but sixteen, and he an undergraduate at Christ Church; and had lived for
+      him in a cottage at Littlemore, whither he would ride, most days, to be
+      with her; and how he tired of her, broke his oath that he would marry her,
+      thereby broke her heart; and how she drowned herself in a mill-pond; and
+      how Greddon was killed in Venice, two years later, duelling on the Riva
+      Schiavoni with a Senator whose daughter he had seduced.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And he, Greddon, was not listening very attentively to the tale. He had
+      heard it told so often in this room, and he did not understand the
+      sentiments of the modern world. Nellie had been a monstrous pretty
+      creature. He had adored her, and had done with her. It was right that she
+      should always be toasted after dinner by the Junta, as in the days when
+      first he loved her&mdash;&ldquo;Here&rsquo;s to Nellie O&rsquo;Mora, the fairest witch that
+      ever was or will be!&rdquo; He would have resented the omission of that toast.
+      But he was sick of the pitying, melting looks that were always cast
+      towards her miniature. Nellie had been beautiful, but, by God! she was
+      always a dunce and a simpleton. How could he have spent his life with her?
+      She was a fool, by God! not to marry that fool Trailby, of Merton, whom he
+      took to see her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Oover&rsquo;s moral tone, and his sense of chivalry, were of the American
+      kind: far higher than ours, even, and far better expressed. Whereas the
+      English guests of the Junta, when they heard the tale of Nellie O&rsquo;Mora,
+      would merely murmur &ldquo;Poor girl!&rdquo; or &ldquo;What a shame!&rdquo; Mr. Oover said in a
+      tone of quiet authority that compelled Greddon&rsquo;s ear &ldquo;Duke, I hope I am
+      not incognisant of the laws that govern the relations of guest and host.
+      But, Duke, I aver deliberately that the founder of this fine old club; at
+      which you are so splendidly entertaining me to-night, was an unmitigated
+      scoundrel. I say he was not a white man.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At the word &ldquo;scoundrel,&rdquo; Humphrey Greddon had sprung forward, drawing his
+      sword, and loudly, in a voice audible to himself alone, challenged the
+      American to make good his words. Then, as this gentleman took no notice,
+      with one clean straight thrust Greddon ran him through the heart, shouting
+      &ldquo;Die, you damned psalm-singer and traducer! And so die all rebels against
+      King George!&rdquo;* Withdrawing the blade, he wiped it daintily on his cambric
+      handkerchief. There was no blood. Mr. Oover, with unpunctured shirt-front,
+      was repeating &ldquo;I say he was not a white man.&rdquo; And Greddon remembered
+      himself&mdash;remembered he was only a ghost, impalpable, impotent, of no
+      account. &ldquo;But I shall meet you in Hell to-morrow,&rdquo; he hissed in Oover&rsquo;s
+      face. And there he was wrong. It is quite certain that Oover went to
+      Heaven.
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+   * As Edward VII. was at this time on the throne, it must have been
+     to George III. that Mr. Greddon was referring.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      Unable to avenge himself, Greddon had looked to the Duke to act for him.
+      When he saw that this young man did but smile at Oover and make a vague
+      deprecatory gesture, he again, in his wrath, forgot his disabilities.
+      Drawing himself to his full height, he took with great deliberation a
+      pinch of snuff, and, bowing low to the Duke, said &ldquo;I am vastly obleeged to
+      your Grace for the fine high Courage you have exhibited in the behalf of
+      your most Admiring, most Humble Servant.&rdquo; Then, having brushed away a
+      speck of snuff from his jabot, he turned on his heel; and only in the
+      doorway, where one of the club servants, carrying a decanter in each hand,
+      walked straight through him, did he realise that he had not spoilt the
+      Duke&rsquo;s evening. With a volley of the most appalling eighteenth-century
+      oaths, he passed back into the nether world.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      To the Duke, Nellie O&rsquo;Mora had never been a very vital figure. He had
+      often repeated the legend of her. But, having never known what love was,
+      he could not imagine her rapture or her anguish. Himself the quarry of all
+      Mayfair&rsquo;s wise virgins, he had always&mdash;so far as he thought of the
+      matter at all&mdash;suspected that Nellie&rsquo;s death was due to thwarted
+      ambition. But to-night, while he told Oover about her, he could see into
+      her soul. Nor did he pity her. She had loved. She had known the one thing
+      worth living for&mdash;and dying for. She, as she went down to the
+      mill-pond, had felt just that ecstasy of self-sacrifice which he himself
+      had felt to-day and would feel to-morrow. And for a while, too&mdash;for a
+      full year&mdash;she had known the joy of being loved, had been for Greddon
+      &ldquo;the fairest witch that ever was or will be.&rdquo; He could not agree with
+      Oover&rsquo;s long disquisition on her sufferings. And, glancing at her
+      well-remembered miniature, he wondered just what it was in her that had
+      captivated Greddon. He was in that blest state when a man cannot believe
+      the earth has been trodden by any really beautiful or desirable lady save
+      the lady of his own heart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The moment had come for the removal of the table-cloth. The mahogany of
+      the Junta was laid bare&mdash;a clear dark lake, anon to reflect in its
+      still and ruddy depths the candelabras and the fruit-cradles, the slender
+      glasses and the stout old decanters, the forfeit-box and the snuff-box,
+      and other paraphernalia of the dignity of dessert. Lucidly, and
+      unwaveringly inverted in the depths these good things stood; and, so soon
+      as the wine had made its circuit, the Duke rose and with uplifted glass
+      proposed the first of the two toasts traditional to the Junta. &ldquo;Gentlemen,
+      I give you Church and State.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The toast having been honoured by all&mdash;and by none with a richer
+      reverence than by Oover, despite his passionate mental reservation in
+      favour of Pittsburg-Anabaptism and the Republican Ideal&mdash;the
+      snuff-box was handed round, and fruit was eaten.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently, when the wine had gone round again, the Duke rose and with
+      uplifted glass said &ldquo;Gentlemen, I give you&mdash;&rdquo; and there halted.
+      Silent, frowning, flushed, he stood for a few moments, and then, with a
+      deliberate gesture, tilted his glass and let fall the wine to the carpet.
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; he said, looking round the table, &ldquo;I cannot give you Nellie O&rsquo;Mora.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why not?&rdquo; gasped Sir John Marraby.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have a right to ask that,&rdquo; said the Duke, still standing. &ldquo;I can only
+      say that my conscience is stronger than my sense of what is due to the
+      customs of the club. Nellie O&rsquo;Mora,&rdquo; he said, passing his hand over his
+      brow, &ldquo;may have been in her day the fairest witch that ever was&mdash;so
+      fair that our founder had good reason to suppose her the fairest witch
+      that ever would be. But his prediction was a false one. So at least it
+      seems to me. Of course I cannot both hold this view and remain President
+      of this club. MacQuern&mdash;Marraby&mdash;which of you is
+      Vice-President?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He is,&rdquo; said Marraby.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then, MacQuern, you are hereby President, vice myself resigned. Take the
+      chair and propose the toast.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I would rather not,&rdquo; said The MacQuern after a pause.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then, Marraby, YOU must.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not I!&rdquo; said Marraby.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why is this?&rdquo; asked the Duke, looking from one to the other.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The MacQuern, with Scotch caution, was silent. But the impulsive Marraby&mdash;Madcap
+      Marraby, as they called him in B.N.C.&mdash;said &ldquo;It&rsquo;s because I won&rsquo;t
+      lie!&rdquo; and, leaping up, raised his glass aloft and cried &ldquo;I give you
+      Zuleika Dobson, the fairest witch that ever was or will be!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Oover, Lord Sayes, Mr. Trent-Garby, sprang to their feet; The MacQuern
+      rose to his. &ldquo;Zuleika Dobson!&rdquo; they cried, and drained their glasses.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then, when they had resumed their seats, came an awkward pause. The Duke,
+      still erect beside the chair he had vacated, looked very grave and pale.
+      Marraby had taken an outrageous liberty. But &ldquo;a member of the Junta can do
+      no wrong,&rdquo; and the liberty could not be resented. The Duke felt that the
+      blame was on himself, who had elected Marraby to the club.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Oover, too, looked grave. All the antiquarian in him deplored the
+      sudden rupture of a fine old Oxford tradition. All the chivalrous American
+      in him resented the slight on that fair victim of the feudal system, Miss
+      O&rsquo;Mora. And, at the same time, all the Abimelech V. in him rejoiced at
+      having honoured by word and act the one woman in the world.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Gazing around at the flushed faces and heaving shirt-fronts of the diners,
+      the Duke forgot Marraby&rsquo;s misdemeanour. What mattered far more to him was
+      that here were five young men deeply under the spell of Zuleika. They must
+      be saved, if possible. He knew how strong his influence was in the
+      University. He knew also how strong was Zuleika&rsquo;s. He had not much hope of
+      the issue. But his new-born sense of duty to his fellows spurred him on.
+      &ldquo;Is there,&rdquo; he asked with a bitter smile, &ldquo;any one of you who doesn&rsquo;t with
+      his whole heart love Miss Dobson?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Nobody held up a hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As I feared,&rdquo; said the Duke, knowing not that if a hand had been held up
+      he would have taken it as a personal insult. No man really in love can
+      forgive another for not sharing his ardour. His jealousy for himself when
+      his beloved prefers another man is hardly a stronger passion than his
+      jealousy for her when she is not preferred to all other women.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You know her only by sight&mdash;by repute?&rdquo; asked the Duke. They
+      signified that this was so. &ldquo;I wish you would introduce me to her,&rdquo; said
+      Marraby.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are all coming to the Judas concert tonight?&rdquo; the Duke asked,
+      ignoring Marraby. &ldquo;You have all secured tickets?&rdquo; They nodded. &ldquo;To hear me
+      play, or to see Miss Dobson?&rdquo; There was a murmur of &ldquo;Both&mdash;both.&rdquo;
+       &ldquo;And you would all of you, like Marraby, wish to be presented to this
+      lady?&rdquo; Their eyes dilated. &ldquo;That way happiness lies, think you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, happiness be hanged!&rdquo; said Marraby.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      To the Duke this seemed a profoundly sane remark&mdash;an epitome of his
+      own sentiments. But what was right for himself was not right for all. He
+      believed in convention as the best way for average mankind. And so,
+      slowly, calmly, he told to his fellow-diners just what he had told a few
+      hours earlier to those two young men in Salt Cellar. Not knowing that his
+      words had already been spread throughout Oxford, he was rather surprised
+      that they seemed to make no sensation. Quite flat, too, fell his appeal
+      that the syren be shunned by all.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Oover, during his year of residence, had been sorely tried by the
+      quaint old English custom of not making public speeches after private
+      dinners. It was with a deep sigh of satisfaction that he now rose to his
+      feet.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Duke,&rdquo; he said in a low voice, which yet penetrated to every corner of
+      the room, &ldquo;I guess I am voicing these gentlemen when I say that your words
+      show up your good heart, all the time. Your mentality, too, is bully, as
+      we all predicate. One may say without exaggeration that your scholarly and
+      social attainments are a by-word throughout the solar system, and be-yond.
+      We rightly venerate you as our boss. Sir, we worship the ground you walk
+      on. But we owe a duty to our own free and independent manhood. Sir, we
+      worship the ground Miss Z. Dobson treads on. We have pegged out a claim
+      right there. And from that location we aren&rsquo;t to be budged&mdash;not for
+      bob-nuts. We asseverate we squat&mdash;where&mdash;we&mdash;squat, come&mdash;what&mdash;will.
+      You say we have no chance to win Miss Z. Dobson. That&mdash;we&mdash;know.
+      We aren&rsquo;t worthy. We lie prone. Let her walk over us. You say her heart is
+      cold. We don&rsquo;t pro-fess we can take the chill off. But, Sir, we can&rsquo;t be
+      diverted out of loving her&mdash;not even by you, Sir. No, Sir! We love
+      her, and&mdash;shall, and&mdash;will, Sir, with&mdash;our&mdash;latest
+      breath.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This peroration evoked loud applause. &ldquo;I love her, and shall, and will,&rdquo;
+       shouted each man. And again they honoured in wine her image. Sir John
+      Marraby uttered a cry familiar in the hunting-field. The MacQuern
+      contributed a few bars of a sentimental ballad in the dialect of his
+      country. &ldquo;Hurrah, hurrah!&rdquo; shouted Mr. Trent-Garby. Lord Sayes hummed the
+      latest waltz, waving his arms to its rhythm, while the wine he had just
+      spilt on his shirt-front trickled unheeded to his waistcoat. Mr. Oover
+      gave the Yale cheer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The genial din was wafted down through the open window to the passers-by.
+      The wine-merchant across the way heard it, and smiled pensively. &ldquo;Youth,
+      youth!&rdquo; he murmured.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The genial din grew louder.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At any other time, the Duke would have been jarred by the disgrace to the
+      Junta. But now, as he stood with bent head, covering his face with his
+      hands, he thought only of the need to rid these young men, here and now,
+      of the influence that had befallen them. To-morrow his tragic example
+      might be too late, the mischief have sunk too deep, the agony be
+      life-long. His good breeding forbade him to cast over a dinner-table the
+      shadow of his death. His conscience insisted that he must. He uncovered
+      his face, and held up one hand for silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We are all of us,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;old enough to remember vividly the
+      demonstrations made in the streets of London when war was declared between
+      us and the Transvaal Republic. You, Mr. Oover, doubtless heard in America
+      the echoes of those ebullitions. The general idea was that the war was
+      going to be a very brief and simple affair&mdash;what was called &lsquo;a
+      walk-over.&rsquo; To me, though I was only a small boy, it seemed that all this
+      delirious pride in the prospect of crushing a trumpery foe argued a defect
+      in our sense of proportion. Still, I was able to understand the
+      demonstrators&rsquo; point of view. To &lsquo;the giddy vulgar&rsquo; any sort of victory is
+      pleasant. But defeat? If, when that war was declared, every one had been
+      sure that not only should we fail to conquer the Transvaal, but that IT
+      would conquer US&mdash;that not only would it make good its freedom and
+      independence, but that we should forfeit ours&mdash;how would the cits
+      have felt then? Would they not have pulled long faces, spoken in whispers,
+      wept? You must forgive me for saying that the noise you have just made
+      around this table was very like to the noise made on the verge of the Boer
+      War. And your procedure seems to me as unaccountable as would have seemed
+      the antics of those mobs if England had been plainly doomed to disaster
+      and to vassalage. My guest here to-night, in the course of his very
+      eloquent and racy speech, spoke of the need that he and you should
+      preserve your &lsquo;free and independent manhood.&rsquo; That seemed to me an
+      irreproachable ideal. But I confess I was somewhat taken aback by my
+      friend&rsquo;s scheme for realising it. He declared his intention of lying prone
+      and letting Miss Dobson &lsquo;walk over&rsquo; him; and he advised you to follow his
+      example; and to this counsel you gave evident approval. Gentlemen, suppose
+      that on the verge of the aforesaid war, some orator had said to the
+      British people &lsquo;It is going to be a walk-over for our enemy in the field.
+      Mr. Kruger holds us in the hollow of his hand. In subjection to him we
+      shall find our long-lost freedom and independence&rsquo;&mdash;what would have
+      been Britannia&rsquo;s answer? What, on reflection, is yours to Mr. Oover? What
+      are Mr. Oover&rsquo;s own second thoughts?&rdquo; The Duke paused, with a smile to his
+      guest.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Go right ahead, Duke,&rdquo; said Mr. Oover. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll re-ply when my turn comes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And not utterly demolish me, I hope,&rdquo; said the Duke. His was the Oxford
+      manner. &ldquo;Gentlemen,&rdquo; he continued, &ldquo;is it possible that Britannia would
+      have thrown her helmet in the air, shrieking &lsquo;Slavery for ever&rsquo;? You,
+      gentlemen, seem to think slavery a pleasant and an honourable state. You
+      have less experience of it than I. I have been enslaved to Miss Dobson
+      since yesterday evening; you, only since this afternoon; I, at close
+      quarters; you, at a respectful distance. Your fetters have not galled you
+      yet. MY wrists, MY ankles, are excoriated. The iron has entered into my
+      soul. I droop. I stumble. Blood flows from me. I quiver and curse. I
+      writhe. The sun mocks me. The moon titters in my face. I can stand it no
+      longer. I will no more of it. Tomorrow I die.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The flushed faces of the diners grew gradually pale. Their eyes lost
+      lustre. Their tongues clove to the roofs of their mouths.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At length, almost inaudibly, The MacQuern asked &ldquo;Do you mean you are going
+      to commit suicide?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said the Duke, &ldquo;if you choose to put it in that way. Yes. And it is
+      only by a chance that I did not commit suicide this afternoon.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You&mdash;don&rsquo;t&mdash;say,&rdquo; gasped Mr. Oover.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do indeed,&rdquo; said the Duke. &ldquo;And I ask you all to weigh well my
+      message.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But&mdash;but does Miss Dobson know?&rdquo; asked Sir John.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh yes,&rdquo; was the reply. &ldquo;Indeed, it was she who persuaded me not to die
+      till to-morrow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But&mdash;but,&rdquo; faltered Lord Sayes, &ldquo;I saw her saying good-bye to you in
+      Judas Street. And&mdash;and she looked quite&mdash;as if nothing had
+      happened.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nothing HAD happened,&rdquo; said the Duke. &ldquo;And she was very much pleased to
+      have me still with her. But she isn&rsquo;t so cruel as to hinder me from dying
+      for her to-morrow. I don&rsquo;t think she exactly fixed the hour. It shall be
+      just after the Eights have been rowed. An earlier death would mark in me a
+      lack of courtesy to that contest... It seems strange to you that I should
+      do this thing? Take warning by me. Muster all your will-power, and forget
+      Miss Dobson. Tear up your tickets for the concert. Stay here and play
+      cards. Play high. Or rather, go back to your various Colleges, and speed
+      the news I have told you. Put all Oxford on its guard against this woman
+      who can love no lover. Let all Oxford know that I, Dorset, who had so much
+      reason to love life&mdash;I, the nonpareil&mdash;am going to die for the
+      love I bear this woman. And let no man think I go unwilling. I am no lamb
+      led to the slaughter. I am priest as well as victim. I offer myself up
+      with a pious joy. But enough of this cold Hebraism! It is ill-attuned to
+      my soul&rsquo;s mood. Self-sacrifice&mdash;bah! Regard me as a voluptuary. I am
+      that. All my baffled ardour speeds me to the bosom of Death. She is gentle
+      and wanton. She knows I could never have loved her for her own sake. She
+      has no illusions about me. She knows well I come to her because not
+      otherwise may I quench my passion.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was a long silence. The Duke, looking around at the bent heads and
+      drawn mouths of his auditors, saw that his words had gone home. It was
+      Marraby who revealed how powerfully home they had gone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dorset,&rdquo; he said huskily, &ldquo;I shall die too.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Duke flung up his hands, staring wildly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I stand in with that,&rdquo; said Mr. Oover.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So do I!&rdquo; said Lord Sayes. &ldquo;And I!&rdquo; said Mr. Trent-Garby; &ldquo;And I!&rdquo; The
+      MacQuern.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Duke found voice. &ldquo;Are you mad?&rdquo; he asked, clutching at his throat.
+      &ldquo;Are you all mad?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, Duke,&rdquo; said Mr. Oover. &ldquo;Or, if we are, you have no right to be at
+      large. You have shown us the way. We&mdash;take it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Just so,&rdquo; said The MacQuern, stolidly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Listen, you fools,&rdquo; cried the Duke. But through the open window came the
+      vibrant stroke of some clock. He wheeled round, plucked out his watch&mdash;nine!&mdash;the
+      concert!&mdash;his promise not to be late!&mdash;Zuleika!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      All other thoughts vanished. In an instant he dodged beneath the sash of
+      the window. From the flower-box he sprang to the road beneath. (The facade
+      of the house is called, to this day, Dorset&rsquo;s Leap.) Alighting with the
+      legerity of a cat, he swerved leftward in the recoil, and was off, like a
+      streak of mulberry-coloured lightning, down the High.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The other men had rushed to the window, fearing the worst. &ldquo;No,&rdquo; cried
+      Oover. &ldquo;That&rsquo;s all right. Saves time!&rdquo; and he raised himself on to the
+      window-box. It splintered under his weight. He leapt heavily but well,
+      followed by some uprooted geraniums. Squaring his shoulders, he threw back
+      his head, and doubled down the slope.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was a violent jostle between the remaining men. The MacQuern cannily
+      got out of it, and rushed downstairs. He emerged at the front-door just
+      after Marraby touched ground. The Baronet&rsquo;s left ankle had twisted under
+      him. His face was drawn with pain as he hopped down the High on his right
+      foot, fingering his ticket for the concert. Next leapt Lord Sayes. And
+      last of all leapt Mr. Trent-Garby, who, catching his foot in the ruined
+      flower-box, fell headlong, and was, I regret to say, killed. Lord Sayes
+      passed Sir John in a few paces. The MacQuern overtook Mr. Oover at St.
+      Mary&rsquo;s and outstripped him in Radcliffe Square. The Duke came in an easy
+      first.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Youth, youth!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      IX
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Across the Front Quadrangle, heedless of the great crowd to right and
+      left, Dorset rushed. Up the stone steps to the Hall he bounded, and only
+      on the Hall&rsquo;s threshold was he brought to a pause. The doorway was blocked
+      by the backs of youths who had by hook and crook secured standing-room.
+      The whole scene was surprisingly unlike that of the average College
+      concert.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let me pass,&rdquo; said the Duke, rather breathlessly. &ldquo;Thank you. Make way
+      please. Thanks.&rdquo; And with quick-pulsing heart he made his way down the
+      aisle to the front row. There awaited him a surprise that was like a
+      douche of cold water full in his face. Zuleika was not there! It had never
+      occurred to him that she herself might not be punctual.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Warden was there, reading his programme with an air of great
+      solemnity. &ldquo;Where,&rdquo; asked the Duke, &ldquo;is your grand-daughter?&rdquo; His tone was
+      as of a man saying &ldquo;If she is dead, don&rsquo;t break it gently to me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My grand-daughter?&rdquo; said the Warden. &ldquo;Ah, Duke, good evening.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She&rsquo;s not ill?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh no, I think not. She said something about changing the dress she wore
+      at dinner. She will come.&rdquo; And the Warden thanked his young friend for the
+      great kindness he had shown to Zuleika. He hoped the Duke had not let her
+      worry him with her artless prattle. &ldquo;She seems to be a good, amiable
+      girl,&rdquo; he added, in his detached way.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sitting beside him, the Duke looked curiously at the venerable profile, as
+      at a mummy&rsquo;s. To think that this had once been a man! To think that his
+      blood flowed in the veins of Zuleika! Hitherto the Duke had seen nothing
+      grotesque in him&mdash;had regarded him always as a dignified specimen of
+      priest and scholar. Such a life as the Warden&rsquo;s, year following year in
+      ornamental seclusion from the follies and fusses of the world, had to the
+      Duke seemed rather admirable and enviable. Often he himself had (for a
+      minute or so) meditated taking a fellowship at All Souls and spending here
+      in Oxford the greater part of his life. He had never been young, and it
+      never had occurred to him that the Warden had been young once. To-night he
+      saw the old man in a new light&mdash;saw that he was mad. Here was a man
+      who&mdash;for had he not married and begotten a child?&mdash;must have
+      known, in some degree, the emotion of love. How, after that, could he have
+      gone on thus, year by year, rusting among his books, asking no favour of
+      life, waiting for death without a sign of impatience? Why had he not
+      killed himself long ago? Why cumbered he the earth?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On the dais an undergraduate was singing a song entitled &ldquo;She Loves Not
+      Me.&rdquo; Such plaints are apt to leave us unharrowed. Across the footlights of
+      an opera-house, the despair of some Italian tenor in red tights and a
+      yellow wig may be convincing enough. Not so, at a concert, the despair of
+      a shy British amateur in evening dress. The undergraduate on the dais,
+      fumbling with his sheet of music while he predicted that only when he were
+      &ldquo;laid within the church-yard cold and grey&rdquo; would his lady begin to pity
+      him, seemed to the Duke rather ridiculous; but not half so ridiculous as
+      the Warden. This fictitious love-affair was less nugatory than the actual
+      humdrum for which Dr. Dobson had sold his soul to the devil. Also, little
+      as one might suspect it, the warbler was perhaps expressing a genuine
+      sentiment. Zuleika herself, belike, was in his thoughts.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As he began the second stanza, predicting that when his lady died too the
+      angels of heaven would bear her straight to him, the audience heard a loud
+      murmur, or subdued roar, outside the Hall. And after a few bars the
+      warbler suddenly ceased, staring straight in front of him as though he saw
+      a vision. Automatically, all heads veered in the direction of his gaze.
+      From the entrance, slowly along the aisle, came Zuleika, brilliant in
+      black.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      To the Duke, who had rapturously risen, she nodded and smiled as she
+      swerved down on the chair beside him. She looked to him somehow different.
+      He had quite forgiven her for being late: her mere presence was a perfect
+      excuse. And the very change in her, though he could not define it, was
+      somehow pleasing to him. He was about to question her, but she shook her
+      head and held up to her lips a black-gloved forefinger, enjoining silence
+      for the singer, who, with dogged British pluck, had harked back to the
+      beginning of the second stanza. When his task was done and he shuffled
+      down from the dais, he received a great ovation. Zuleika, in the way
+      peculiar to persons who are in the habit of appearing before the public,
+      held her hands well above the level of her brow, and clapped them with a
+      vigour demonstrative not less of her presence than of her delight.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And now,&rdquo; she asked, turning to the Duke, &ldquo;do you see? do you see?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Something, yes. But what?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Isn&rsquo;t it plain?&rdquo; Lightly she touched the lobe of her left ear. &ldquo;Aren&rsquo;t
+      you flattered?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He knew now what made the difference. It was that her little face was
+      flanked by two black pearls.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Think,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;how deeply I must have been brooding over you since we
+      parted!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is this really,&rdquo; he asked, pointing to the left ear-ring, &ldquo;the pearl you
+      wore to-day?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. Isn&rsquo;t it strange? A man ought to be pleased when a woman goes quite
+      unconsciously into mourning for him&mdash;goes just because she really
+      does mourn him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am more than pleased. I am touched. When did the change come?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know. I only noticed it after dinner, when I saw myself in the
+      mirror. All through dinner I had been thinking of you and of&mdash;well,
+      of to-morrow. And this dear sensitive pink pearl had again expressed my
+      soul. And there was I, in a yellow gown with green embroideries, gay as a
+      jacamar, jarring hideously on myself. I covered my eyes and rushed
+      upstairs, rang the bell and tore my things off. My maid was very cross.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Cross! The Duke was shot through with envy of one who was in a position to
+      be unkind to Zuleika. &ldquo;Happy maid!&rdquo; he murmured. Zuleika replied that he
+      was stealing her thunder: hadn&rsquo;t she envied the girl at his lodgings? &ldquo;But
+      I,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;wanted only to serve you in meekness. The idea of ever
+      being pert to you didn&rsquo;t enter into my head. You show a side of your
+      character as unpleasing as it was unforeseen.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perhaps then,&rdquo; said the Duke, &ldquo;it is as well that I am going to die.&rdquo; She
+      acknowledged his rebuke with a pretty gesture of penitence. &ldquo;You may have
+      been faultless in love,&rdquo; he added; &ldquo;but you would not have laid down your
+      life for me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; she answered, &ldquo;wouldn&rsquo;t I though? You don&rsquo;t know me. That is just
+      the sort of thing I should have loved to do. I am much more romantic than
+      you are, really. I wonder,&rdquo; she said, glancing at his breast, &ldquo;if YOUR
+      pink pearl would have turned black? And I wonder if YOU would have taken
+      the trouble to change that extraordinary coat you are wearing?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      In sooth, no costume could have been more beautifully Cimmerian than
+      Zuleika&rsquo;s. And yet, thought the Duke, watching her as the concert
+      proceeded, the effect of her was not lugubrious. Her darkness shone. The
+      black satin gown she wore was a stream of shifting high-lights. Big black
+      diamonds were around her throat and wrists, and tiny black diamonds
+      starred the fan she wielded. In her hair gleamed a great raven&rsquo;s wing. And
+      brighter, brighter than all these were her eyes. Assuredly no, there was
+      nothing morbid about her. Would one even (wondered the Duke, for a
+      disloyal instant) go so far as to say she was heartless? Ah no, she was
+      merely strong. She was one who could tread the tragic plane without
+      stumbling, and be resilient in the valley of the shadow. What she had just
+      said was no more than the truth: she would have loved to die for him, had
+      he not forfeited her heart. She would have asked no tears. That she had
+      none to shed for him now, that she did but share his exhilaration, was the
+      measure of her worthiness to have the homage of his self-slaughter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By the way,&rdquo; she whispered, &ldquo;I want to ask one little favour of you. Will
+      you, please, at the last moment to-morrow, call out my name in a loud
+      voice, so that every one around can hear?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course I will.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So that no one shall ever be able to say it wasn&rsquo;t for me that you died,
+      you know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;May I use simply your Christian name?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I really don&rsquo;t see why you shouldn&rsquo;t&mdash;at such a moment.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you.&rdquo; His face glowed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Thus did they commune, these two, radiant without and within. And behind
+      them, throughout the Hall, the undergraduates craned their necks for a
+      glimpse. The Duke&rsquo;s piano solo, which was the last item in the first half
+      of the programme, was eagerly awaited. Already, whispered first from the
+      lips of Oover and the others who had come on from the Junta, the news of
+      his resolve had gone from ear to ear among the men. He, for his part, had
+      forgotten the scene at the Junta, the baleful effect of his example. For
+      him the Hall was a cave of solitude&mdash;no one there but Zuleika and
+      himself. Yet almost, like the late Mr. John Bright, he heard in the air
+      the beating of the wings of the Angel of Death. Not awful wings; little
+      wings that sprouted from the shoulders of a rosy and blindfold child. Love
+      and Death&mdash;for him they were exquisitely one. And it seemed to him,
+      when his turn came to play, that he floated, rather than walked, to the
+      dais.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He had not considered what he would play tonight. Nor, maybe, was he
+      conscious now of choosing. His fingers caressed the keyboard vaguely; and
+      anon this ivory had voice and language; and for its master, and for some
+      of his hearers, arose a vision. And it was as though in delicate
+      procession, very slowly, listless with weeping, certain figures passed by,
+      hooded, and drooping forasmuch as by the loss of him whom they were
+      following to his grave their own hold on life had been loosened. He had
+      been so beautiful and young. Lo, he was but a burden to be carried hence,
+      dust to be hidden out of sight. Very slowly, very wretchedly they went by.
+      But, as they went, another feeling, faint at first, an all but
+      imperceptible current, seemed to flow through the procession; and now one,
+      now another of the mourners would look wanly up, with cast-back hood, as
+      though listening; and anon all were listening on their way, first in
+      wonder, then in rapture; for the soul of their friend was singing to them:
+      they heard his voice, but clearer and more blithe than they had ever known
+      it&mdash;a voice etherealised by a triumph of joy that was not yet for
+      them to share. But presently the voice receded, its echoes dying away into
+      the sphere whence it came. It ceased; and the mourners were left alone
+      again with their sorrow, and passed on all unsolaced, and drooping,
+      weeping.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Soon after the Duke had begun to play, an invisible figure came and stood
+      by and listened; a frail man, dressed in the fashion of 1840; the shade of
+      none other than Frederic Chopin. Behind whom, a moment later, came a woman
+      of somewhat masculine aspect and dominant demeanour, mounting guard over
+      him, and, as it were, ready to catch him if he fell. He bowed his head
+      lower and lower, he looked up with an ecstasy more and more intense,
+      according to the procedure of his Marche Funebre. And among the audience,
+      too, there was a bowing and uplifting of heads, just as among the figures
+      of the mourners evoked. Yet the head of the player himself was all the
+      while erect, and his face glad and serene. Nobly sensitive as was his
+      playing of the mournful passages, he smiled brilliantly through them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And Zuleika returned his gaze with a smile not less gay. She was not sure
+      what he was playing. But she assumed that it was for her, and that the
+      music had some reference to his impending death. She was one of the people
+      who say &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know anything about music really, but I know what I
+      like.&rdquo; And she liked this; and she beat time to it with her fan. She
+      thought her Duke looked very handsome. She was proud of him. Strange that
+      this time yesterday she had been wildly in love with him! Strange, too,
+      that this time to-morrow he would be dead! She was immensely glad she had
+      saved him this afternoon. To-morrow! There came back to her what he had
+      told her about the omen at Tankerton, that stately home: &ldquo;On the eve of
+      the death of a Duke of Dorset, two black owls come always and perch on the
+      battlements. They remain there through the night, hooting. At dawn they
+      fly away, none knows whither.&rdquo; Perhaps, thought she, at this very moment
+      these two birds were on the battlements.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The music ceased. In the hush that followed it, her applause rang sharp
+      and notable. Not so Chopin&rsquo;s. Of him and his intense excitement none but
+      his companion was aware. &ldquo;Plus fin que Pachmann!&rdquo; he reiterated, waving
+      his arms wildly, and dancing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tu auras une migraine affreuse. Rentrons, petit coeur!&rdquo; said George Sand,
+      gently but firmly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Laisse-moi le saluer,&rdquo; cried the composer, struggling in her grasp.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Demain soir, oui. Il sera parmi nous,&rdquo; said the novelist, as she hurried
+      him away. &ldquo;Moi aussi,&rdquo; she added to herself, &ldquo;je me promets un beau
+      plaisir en faisant la connaissance de ce jeune homme.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Zuleika was the first to rise as &ldquo;ce jeune homme&rdquo; came down from the dais.
+      Now was the interval between the two parts of the programme. There was a
+      general creaking and scraping of pushed-back chairs as the audience rose
+      and went forth into the night. The noise aroused from sleep the good
+      Warden, who, having peered at his programme, complimented the Duke with
+      old-world courtesy and went to sleep again. Zuleika, thrusting her fan
+      under one arm, shook the player by both hands. Also, she told him that she
+      knew nothing about music really, but that she knew what she liked. As she
+      passed with him up the aisle, she said this again. People who say it are
+      never tired of saying it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Outside, the crowd was greater than ever. All the undergraduates from all
+      the Colleges seemed now to be concentrated in the great Front Quadrangle
+      of Judas. Even in the glow of the Japanese lanterns that hung around in
+      honour of the concert, the faces of the lads looked a little pale. For it
+      was known by all now that the Duke was to die. Even while the concert was
+      in progress, the news had spread out from the Hall, through the thronged
+      doorway, down the thronged steps, to the confines of the crowd. Nor had
+      Oover and the other men from the Junta made any secret of their own
+      determination. And now, as the rest saw Zuleika yet again at close
+      quarters, and verified their remembrance of her, the half-formed desire in
+      them to die too was hardened to a vow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      You cannot make a man by standing a sheep on its hind-legs. But by
+      standing a flock of sheep in that position you can make a crowd of men. If
+      man were not a gregarious animal, the world might have achieved, by this
+      time, some real progress towards civilisation. Segregate him, and he is no
+      fool. But let him loose among his fellows, and he is lost&mdash;he becomes
+      just an unit in unreason. If any one of the undergraduates had met Miss
+      Dobson in the desert of Sahara, he would have fallen in love with her; but
+      not one in a thousand of them would have wished to die because she did not
+      love him. The Duke&rsquo;s was a peculiar case. For him to fall in love was
+      itself a violent peripety, bound to produce a violent upheaval; and such
+      was his pride that for his love to be unrequited would naturally enamour
+      him of death. These other, these quite ordinary, young men were the
+      victims less of Zuleika than of the Duke&rsquo;s example, and of one another. A
+      crowd, proportionately to its size, magnifies all that in its units
+      pertains to the emotions, and diminishes all that in them pertains to
+      thought. It was because these undergraduates were a crowd that their
+      passion for Zuleika was so intense; and it was because they were a crowd
+      that they followed so blindly the lead given to them. To die for Miss
+      Dobson was &ldquo;the thing to do.&rdquo; The Duke was going to do it. The Junta was
+      going to do it. It is a hateful fact, but we must face the fact, that
+      snobbishness was one of the springs to the tragedy here chronicled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      We may set to this crowd&rsquo;s credit that it refrained now from following
+      Zuleika. Not one of the ladies present was deserted by her escort. All the
+      men recognised the Duke&rsquo;s right to be alone with Zuleika now. We may set
+      also to their credit that they carefully guarded the ladies from all
+      knowledge of what was afoot.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Side by side, the great lover and his beloved wandered away, beyond the
+      light of the Japanese lanterns, and came to Salt Cellar.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The moon, like a gardenia in the night&rsquo;s button-hole&mdash;but no! why
+      should a writer never be able to mention the moon without likening her to
+      something else&mdash;usually something to which she bears not the faintest
+      resemblance?... The moon, looking like nothing whatsoever but herself, was
+      engaged in her old and futile endeavour to mark the hours correctly on the
+      sun-dial at the centre of the lawn. Never, except once, late one night in
+      the eighteenth century, when the toper who was Sub-Warden had spent an
+      hour in trying to set his watch here, had she received the slightest
+      encouragement. Still she wanly persisted. And this was the more absurd in
+      her because Salt Cellar offered very good scope for those legitimate
+      effects of hers which we one and all admire. Was it nothing to her to have
+      cut those black shadows across the cloisters? Was it nothing to her that
+      she so magically mingled her rays with the candle-light shed forth from
+      Zuleika&rsquo;s bedroom? Nothing, that she had cleansed the lawn of all its
+      colour, and made of it a platform of silver-grey, fit for fairies to dance
+      on?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      If Zuleika, as she paced the gravel path, had seen how transfigured&mdash;how
+      nobly like the Tragic Muse&mdash;she was just now, she could not have gone
+      on bothering the Duke for a keepsake of the tragedy that was to be.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She was still set on having his two studs. He was still firm in his
+      refusal to misappropriate those heirlooms. In vain she pointed out to him
+      that the pearls he meant, the white ones, no longer existed; that the
+      pearls he was wearing were no more &ldquo;entailed&rdquo; than if he had got them
+      yesterday. &ldquo;And you actually DID get them yesterday,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;And from
+      me. And I want them back.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are ingenious,&rdquo; he admitted. &ldquo;I, in my simple way, am but head of the
+      Tanville-Tankerton family. Had you accepted my offer of marriage, you
+      would have had the right to wear these two pearls during your life-time. I
+      am very happy to die for you. But tamper with the property of my successor
+      I cannot and will not. I am sorry,&rdquo; he added.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sorry!&rdquo; echoed Zuleika. &ldquo;Yes, and you were &lsquo;sorry&rsquo; you couldn&rsquo;t dine with
+      me to-night. But any little niggling scruple is more to you than I am.
+      What old maids men are!&rdquo; And viciously with her fan she struck one of the
+      cloister pillars.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her outburst was lost on the Duke. At her taunt about his not dining with
+      her, he had stood still, clapping one hand to his brow. The events of the
+      early evening swept back to him&mdash;his speech, its unforeseen and
+      horrible reception. He saw again the preternaturally solemn face of Oover,
+      and the flushed faces of the rest. He had thought, as he pointed down to
+      the abyss over which he stood, these fellows would recoil, and pull
+      themselves together. They had recoiled, and pulled themselves together,
+      only in the manner of athletes about to spring. He was responsible for
+      them. His own life was his to lose: others he must not squander. Besides,
+      he had reckoned to die alone, unique; aloft and apart... &ldquo;There is
+      something&mdash;something I had forgotten,&rdquo; he said to Zuleika, &ldquo;something
+      that will be a great shock to you&rdquo;; and he gave her an outline of what had
+      passed at the Junta.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you are sure they really MEANT it?&rdquo; she asked in a voice that
+      trembled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I fear so. But they were over-excited. They will recant their folly. I
+      shall force them to.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They are not children. You yourself have just been calling them &lsquo;men.&rsquo; 
+      Why should they obey you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She turned at sound of a footstep, and saw a young man approaching. He
+      wore a coat like the Duke&rsquo;s, and in his hand he dangled a handkerchief. He
+      bowed awkwardly, and, holding out the handkerchief, said to her &ldquo;I beg
+      your pardon, but I think you dropped this. I have just picked it up.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Zuleika looked at the handkerchief, which was obviously a man&rsquo;s, and
+      smilingly shook her head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t think you know The MacQuern,&rdquo; said the Duke, with sulky grace.
+      &ldquo;This,&rdquo; he said to the intruder, &ldquo;is Miss Dobson.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And is it really true,&rdquo; asked Zuleika, retaining The MacQuern&rsquo;s hand,
+      &ldquo;that you want to die for me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Well, the Scots are a self-seeking and a resolute, but a shy, race; swift
+      to act, when swiftness is needed, but seldom knowing quite what to say.
+      The MacQuern, with native reluctance to give something for nothing, had
+      determined to have the pleasure of knowing the young lady for whom he was
+      to lay down his life; and this purpose he had, by the simple stratagem of
+      his own handkerchief, achieved. Nevertheless, in answer to Zuleika&rsquo;s
+      question, and with the pressure of her hand to inspire him, the only word
+      that rose to his lips was &ldquo;Ay&rdquo; (which may be roughly translated as &ldquo;Yes&rdquo;).
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will do nothing of the sort,&rdquo; interposed the Duke.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There,&rdquo; said Zuleika, still retaining The MacQuern&rsquo;s hand, &ldquo;you see, it
+      is forbidden. You must not defy our dear little Duke. He is not used to
+      it. It is not done.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know,&rdquo; said The MacQuern, with a stony glance at the Duke, &ldquo;that
+      he has anything to do with the matter.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He is older and wiser than you. More a man of the world. Regard him as
+      your tutor.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do YOU want me not to die for you?&rdquo; asked the young man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, <i>I</i> should not dare to impose my wishes on you,&rdquo; said she,
+      dropping his hand. &ldquo;Even,&rdquo; she added, &ldquo;if I knew what my wishes were. And
+      I don&rsquo;t. I know only that I think it is very, very beautiful of you to
+      think of dying for me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then that settles it,&rdquo; said The MacQuern.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no! You must not let yourself be influenced by ME. Besides, I am not
+      in a mood to influence anybody. I am overwhelmed. Tell me,&rdquo; she said,
+      heedless of the Duke, who stood tapping his heel on the ground, with every
+      manifestation of disapproval and impatience, &ldquo;tell me, is it true that
+      some of the other men love me too, and&mdash;feel as you do?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The MacQuern said cautiously that he could answer for no one but himself.
+      &ldquo;But,&rdquo; he allowed, &ldquo;I saw a good many men whom I know, outside the Hall
+      here, just now, and they seemed to have made up their minds.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To die for me? To-morrow?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To-morrow. After the Eights, I suppose; at the same time as the Duke. It
+      wouldn&rsquo;t do to leave the races undecided.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of COURSE not. But the poor dears! It is too touching! I have done
+      nothing, nothing to deserve it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nothing whatsoever,&rdquo; said the Duke drily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh HE,&rdquo; said Zuleika, &ldquo;thinks me an unredeemed brute; just because I
+      don&rsquo;t love him. YOU, dear Mr. MacQuern&mdash;does one call you &lsquo;Mr.&rsquo;?
+      &lsquo;The&rsquo; would sound so odd in the vocative. And I can&rsquo;t very well call you
+      &lsquo;MacQuern&rsquo;&mdash;YOU don&rsquo;t think me unkind, do you? I simply can&rsquo;t bear to
+      think of all these young lives cut short without my having done a thing to
+      brighten them. What can I do?&mdash;what can I do to show my gratitude?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      An idea struck her. She looked up to the lit window of her room.
+      &ldquo;Melisande!&rdquo; she called.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A figure appeared at the window. &ldquo;Mademoiselle desire?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My tricks, Melisande! Bring down the box, quick!&rdquo; She turned excitedly to
+      the two young men. &ldquo;It is all I can do in return, you see. If I could
+      dance for them, I would. If I could sing, I would sing to them. I do what
+      I can. You,&rdquo; she said to the Duke, &ldquo;must go on to the platform and
+      announce it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Announce what?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, that I am going to do my tricks! All you need say is &lsquo;Ladies and
+      gentlemen, I have the pleasure to&mdash;&rsquo; What is the matter now?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You make me feel slightly unwell,&rdquo; said the Duke.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And YOU are the most d-dis-disobliging and the unkindest and the
+      b-beastliest person I ever met,&rdquo; Zuleika sobbed at him through her hands.
+      The MacQuern glared reproaches at him. So did Melisande, who had just
+      appeared through the postern, holding in her arms the great casket of
+      malachite. A painful scene; and the Duke gave in. He said he would do
+      anything&mdash;anything. Peace was restored.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The MacQuern had relieved Melisande of her burden; and to him was the
+      privilege of bearing it, in procession with his adored and her quelled
+      mentor, towards the Hall.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Zuleika babbled like a child going to a juvenile party. This was the great
+      night, as yet, in her life. Illustrious enough already it had seemed to
+      her, as eve of that ultimate flattery vowed her by the Duke. So fine a
+      thing had his doom seemed to her&mdash;his doom alone&mdash;that it had
+      sufficed to flood her pink pearl with the right hue. And now not on him
+      alone need she ponder. Now he was but the centre of a group&mdash;a group
+      that might grow and grow&mdash;a group that might with a little
+      encouragement be a multitude... With such hopes dimly whirling in the
+      recesses of her soul, her beautiful red lips babbled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      X
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Sounds of a violin, drifting out through the open windows of the Hall,
+      suggested that the second part of the concert had begun. All the
+      undergraduates, however, except the few who figured in the programme, had
+      waited outside till their mistress should re-appear. The sisters and
+      cousins of the Judas men had been escorted back to their places and
+      hurriedly left there.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a hushed, tense crowd.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The poor darlings!&rdquo; murmured Zuleika, pausing to survey them. &ldquo;And oh,&rdquo;
+       she exclaimed, &ldquo;there won&rsquo;t be room for all of them in there!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You might give an &lsquo;overflow&rsquo; performance out here afterwards,&rdquo; suggested
+      the Duke, grimly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This idea flashed on her a better. Why not give her performance here and
+      now?&mdash;now, so eager was she for contact, as it were, with this crowd;
+      here, by moonlight, in the pretty glow of these paper lanterns. Yes, she
+      said, let it be here and now; and she bade the Duke make the announcement.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What shall I say?&rdquo; he asked. &ldquo;&lsquo;Gentlemen, I have the pleasure to announce
+      that Miss Zuleika Dobson, the world-renowned She-Wizard, will now oblige&rsquo;?
+      Or shall I call them &lsquo;Gents,&rsquo; tout court?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She could afford to laugh at his ill-humour. She had his promise of
+      obedience. She told him to say something graceful and simple.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The noise of the violin had ceased. There was not a breath of wind. The
+      crowd in the quadrangle was as still and as silent as the night itself.
+      Nowhere a tremour. And it was borne in on Zuleika that this crowd had one
+      mind as well as one heart&mdash;a common resolve, calm and clear, as well
+      as a common passion. No need for her to strengthen the spell now. No
+      waverers here. And thus it came true that gratitude was the sole motive
+      for her display.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She stood with eyes downcast and hands folded behind her, moonlit in the
+      glow of lanterns, modest to the point of pathos, while the Duke gracefully
+      and simply introduced her to the multitude. He was, he said, empowered by
+      the lady who stood beside him to say that she would be pleased to give
+      them an exhibition of her skill in the art to which she had devoted her
+      life&mdash;an art which, more potently perhaps than any other, touched in
+      mankind the sense of mystery and stirred the faculty of wonder; the most
+      truly romantic of all the arts: he referred to the art of conjuring. It
+      was not too much to say that by her mastery of this art, in which
+      hitherto, it must be confessed, women had made no very great mark, Miss
+      Zuleika Dobson (for such was the name of the lady who stood beside him)
+      had earned the esteem of the whole civilised world. And here in Oxford,
+      and in this College especially, she had a peculiar claim to&mdash;might he
+      say?&mdash;their affectionate regard, inasmuch as she was the
+      grand-daughter of their venerable and venerated Warden.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As the Duke ceased, there came from his hearers a sound like the rustling
+      of leaves. In return for it, Zuleika performed that graceful act of
+      subsidence to the verge of collapse which is usually kept for the
+      delectation of some royal person. And indeed, in the presence of this
+      doomed congress, she did experience humility; for she was not altogether
+      without imagination. But, as she arose from her &ldquo;bob,&rdquo; she was her own
+      bold self again, bright mistress of the situation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was impossible for her to give her entertainment in full. Some of her
+      tricks (notably the Secret Aquarium, and the Blazing Ball of Worsted)
+      needed special preparation, and a table fitted with a &ldquo;servante&rdquo; or secret
+      tray. The table for to-night&rsquo;s performance was an ordinary one, brought
+      out from the porter&rsquo;s lodge. The MacQuern deposited on it the great
+      casket. Zuleika, retaining him as her assistant, picked nimbly out from
+      their places and put in array the curious appurtenances of her art&mdash;the
+      Magic Canister, the Demon Egg-Cup, and the sundry other vessels which,
+      lost property of young Edward Gibbs, had been by a Romanoff transmuted
+      from wood to gold, and were now by the moon reduced temporarily to silver.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In a great dense semicircle the young men disposed themselves around her.
+      Those who were in front squatted down on the gravel; those who were behind
+      knelt; the rest stood. Young Oxford! Here, in this mass of boyish faces,
+      all fused and obliterated, was the realisation of that phrase. Two or
+      three thousands of human bodies, human souls? Yet the effect of them in
+      the moonlight was as of one great passive monster.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So was it seen by the Duke, as he stood leaning against the wall, behind
+      Zuleika&rsquo;s table. He saw it as a monster couchant and enchanted, a monster
+      that was to die; and its death was in part his own doing. But remorse in
+      him gave place to hostility. Zuleika had begun her performance. She was
+      producing the Barber&rsquo;s Pole from her mouth. And it was to her that the
+      Duke&rsquo;s heart went suddenly out in tenderness and pity. He forgot her
+      levity and vanity&mdash;her wickedness, as he had inwardly called it. He
+      thrilled with that intense anxiety which comes to a man when he sees his
+      beloved offering to the public an exhibition of her skill, be it in
+      singing, acting, dancing, or any other art. Would she acquit herself well?
+      The lover&rsquo;s trepidation is painful enough when the beloved has genius&mdash;how
+      should these clods appreciate her? and who set them in judgment over her?
+      It must be worse when the beloved has mediocrity. And Zuleika, in
+      conjuring, had rather less than that. Though indeed she took herself quite
+      seriously as a conjurer, she brought to her art neither conscience nor
+      ambition, in any true sense of those words. Since her debut, she had
+      learned nothing and forgotten nothing. The stale and narrow repertory
+      which she had acquired from Edward Gibbs was all she had to offer; and
+      this, and her marked lack of skill, she eked out with the self-same
+      &ldquo;patter&rdquo; that had sufficed that impossible young man. It was especially
+      her jokes that now sent shudders up the spine of her lover, and brought
+      tears to his eyes, and kept him in a state of terror as to what she would
+      say next. &ldquo;You see,&rdquo; she had exclaimed lightly after the production of the
+      Barber&rsquo;s Pole, &ldquo;how easy it is to set up business as a hairdresser.&rdquo; Over
+      the Demon Egg-Cup she said that the egg was &ldquo;as good as fresh.&rdquo; And her
+      constantly reiterated catch-phrase&mdash;&ldquo;Well, this is rather queer!&rdquo;&mdash;was
+      the most distressing thing of all.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Duke blushed to think what these men thought of her. Would love were
+      blind! These her lovers were doubtless judging her. They forgave her&mdash;confound
+      their impudence!&mdash;because of her beauty. The banality of her
+      performance was an added grace. It made her piteous. Damn them, they were
+      sorry for her. Little Noaks was squatting in the front row, peering up at
+      her through his spectacles. Noaks was as sorry for her as the rest of
+      them. Why didn&rsquo;t the earth yawn and swallow them all up?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Our hero&rsquo;s unreasoning rage was fed by a not unreasonable jealousy. It was
+      clear to him that Zuleika had forgotten his existence. To-day, as soon as
+      he had killed her love, she had shown him how much less to her was his
+      love than the crowd&rsquo;s. And now again it was only the crowd she cared for.
+      He followed with his eyes her long slender figure as she threaded her way
+      in and out of the crowd, sinuously, confidingly, producing a penny from
+      one lad&rsquo;s elbow, a threepenny-bit from between another&rsquo;s neck and collar,
+      half a crown from another&rsquo;s hair, and always repeating in that flute-like
+      voice of hers &ldquo;Well, this is rather queer!&rdquo; Hither and thither she fared,
+      her neck and arms gleaming white from the luminous blackness of her dress,
+      in the luminous blueness of the night. At a distance, she might have been
+      a wraith; or a breeze made visible; a vagrom breeze, warm and delicate,
+      and in league with death.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Yes, that is how she might have seemed to a casual observer. But to the
+      Duke there was nothing weird about her: she was radiantly a woman; a
+      goddess; and his first and last love. Bitter his heart was, but only
+      against the mob she wooed, not against her for wooing it. She was cruel?
+      All goddesses are that. She was demeaning herself? His soul welled up anew
+      in pity, in passion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Yonder, in the Hall, the concert ran its course, making a feeble
+      incidental music to the dark emotions of the quadrangle. It ended somewhat
+      before the close of Zuleika&rsquo;s rival show; and then the steps from the Hall
+      were thronged by ladies, who, with a sprinkling of dons, stood in
+      attitudes of refined displeasure and vulgar curiosity. The Warden was just
+      awake enough to notice the sea of undergraduates. Suspecting some breach
+      of College discipline, he retired hastily to his own quarters, for fear
+      his dignity might be somehow compromised.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Was there ever, I wonder, an historian so pure as not to have wished just
+      once to fob off on his readers just one bright fable for effect? I find
+      myself sorely tempted to tell you that on Zuleika, as her entertainment
+      drew to a close, the spirit of the higher thaumaturgy descended like a
+      flame and found in her a worthy agent. Specious Apollyon whispers to me
+      &ldquo;Where would be the harm? Tell your readers that she cast a seed on the
+      ground, and that therefrom presently arose a tamarind-tree which blossomed
+      and bore fruit and, withering, vanished. Or say she conjured from an empty
+      basket of osier a hissing and bridling snake. Why not? Your readers would
+      be excited, gratified. And you would never be found out.&rdquo; But the grave
+      eyes of Clio are bent on me, her servant. Oh pardon, madam: I did but
+      waver for an instant. It is not too late to tell my readers that the
+      climax of Zuleika&rsquo;s entertainment was only that dismal affair, the Magic
+      Canister.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It she took from the table, and, holding it aloft, cried &ldquo;Now, before I
+      say good night, I want to see if I have your confidence. But you mustn&rsquo;t
+      think this is the confidence trick!&rdquo; She handed the vessel to The
+      MacQuern, who, looking like an overgrown acolyte, bore it after her as she
+      went again among the audience. Pausing before a man in the front row, she
+      asked him if he would trust her with his watch. He held it out to her.
+      &ldquo;Thank you,&rdquo; she said, letting her fingers touch his for a moment before
+      she dropped it into the Magic Canister. From another man she borrowed a
+      cigarette-case, from another a neck-tie, from another a pair of
+      sleeve-links, from Noaks a ring&mdash;one of those iron rings which are
+      supposed, rightly or wrongly, to alleviate rheumatism. And when she had
+      made an ample selection, she began her return-journey to the table.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On her way she saw in the shadow of the wall the figure of her forgotten
+      Duke. She saw him, the one man she had ever loved, also the first man who
+      had wished definitely to die for her; and she was touched by remorse. She
+      had said she would remember him to her dying day; and already... But had
+      he not refused her the wherewithal to remember him&mdash;the pearls she
+      needed as the clou of her dear collection, the great relic among relics?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Would you trust me with your studs?&rdquo; she asked him, in a voice that could
+      be heard throughout the quadrangle, with a smile that was for him alone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was no help for it. He quickly extricated from his shirt-front the
+      black pearl and the pink. Her thanks had a special emphasis.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The MacQuern placed the Magic Canister before her on the table. She
+      pressed the outer sheath down on it. Then she inverted it so that the
+      contents fell into the false lid; then she opened it, looked into it, and,
+      exclaiming &ldquo;Well, this is rather queer!&rdquo; held it up so that the audience
+      whose intelligence she was insulting might see there was nothing in it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Accidents,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;will happen in the best-regulated canisters! But I
+      think there is just a chance that I shall be able to restore your
+      property. Excuse me for a moment.&rdquo; She then shut the canister, released
+      the false lid, made several passes over it, opened it, looked into it and
+      said with a flourish &ldquo;Now I can clear my character!&rdquo; Again she went among
+      the crowd, attended by The MacQuern; and the loans&mdash;priceless now
+      because she had touched them&mdash;were in due course severally restored.
+      When she took the canister from her acolyte, only the two studs remained
+      in it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Not since the night of her flitting from the Gibbs&rsquo; humble home had
+      Zuleika thieved. Was she a back-slider? Would she rob the Duke, and his
+      heir-presumptive, and Tanville-Tankertons yet unborn? Alas, yes. But what
+      she now did was proof that she had qualms. And her way of doing it showed
+      that for legerdemain she had after all a natural aptitude which, properly
+      trained, might have won for her an honourable place in at least the second
+      rank of contemporary prestidigitators. With a gesture of her disengaged
+      hand, so swift as to be scarcely visible, she unhooked her ear-rings and
+      &ldquo;passed&rdquo; them into the canister. This she did as she turned away from the
+      crowd, on her way to the Duke. At the same moment, in a manner technically
+      not less good, though morally deplorable, she withdrew the studs and
+      &ldquo;vanished&rdquo; them into her bosom.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Was it triumph, or shame, or of both a little that so flushed her cheeks
+      as she stood before the man she had robbed? Or was it the excitement of
+      giving a present to the man she had loved? Certain it is that the
+      nakedness of her ears gave a new look to her face&mdash;a primitive look,
+      open and sweetly wild. The Duke saw the difference, without noticing the
+      cause. She was more adorable than ever. He blenched and swayed as in
+      proximity to a loveliness beyond endurance. His heart cried out within
+      him. A sudden mist came over his eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the canister that she held out to him, the two pearls rattled like
+      dice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Keep them!&rdquo; he whispered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall,&rdquo; she whispered back, almost shyly. &ldquo;But these, these are for
+      you.&rdquo; And she took one of his hands, and, holding it open, tilted the
+      canister over it, and let drop into it the two ear-rings, and went quickly
+      away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As she re-appeared at the table, the crowd gave her a long ovation of
+      gratitude for her performance&mdash;an ovation all the more impressive
+      because it was solemn and subdued. She curtseyed again and again, not
+      indeed with the timid simplicity of her first obeisance (so familiar
+      already was she with the thought of the crowd&rsquo;s doom), but rather in the
+      manner of a prima donna&mdash;chin up, eyelids down, all teeth manifest,
+      and hands from the bosom flung ecstatically wide asunder.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      You know how, at a concert, a prima donna who has just sung insists on
+      shaking hands with the accompanist, and dragging him forward, to show how
+      beautiful her nature is, into the applause that is for herself alone. And
+      your heart, like mine, has gone out to the wretched victim. Even so would
+      you have felt for The MacQuern when Zuleika, on the implied assumption
+      that half the credit was his, grasped him by the wrist, and, continuing to
+      curtsey, would not release him till the last echoes of the clapping had
+      died away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The ladies on the steps of the Hall moved down into the quadrangle,
+      spreading their resentment like a miasma. The tragic passion of the crowd
+      was merged in mere awkwardness. There was a general movement towards the
+      College gate.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Zuleika was putting her tricks back into the great casket, The MacQuern
+      assisting her. The Scots, as I have said, are a shy race, but a resolute
+      and a self-seeking. This young chieftain had not yet recovered from what
+      his heroine had let him in for. But he did not lose the opportunity of
+      asking her to lunch with him to-morrow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Delighted,&rdquo; she said, fitting the Demon Egg-Cup into its groove. Then,
+      looking up at him, &ldquo;Are you popular?&rdquo; she asked. &ldquo;Have you many friends?&rdquo;
+       He nodded. She said he must invite them all.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This was a blow to the young man, who, at once thrifty and infatuate, had
+      planned a luncheon a deux. &ldquo;I had hoped&mdash;&rdquo; he began.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Vainly,&rdquo; she cut him short.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was a pause. &ldquo;Whom shall I invite, then?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know any of them. How should I have preferences?&rdquo; She remembered
+      the Duke. She looked round and saw him still standing in the shadow of the
+      wall. He came towards her. &ldquo;Of course,&rdquo; she said hastily to her host, &ldquo;you
+      must ask HIM.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The MacQuern complied. He turned to the Duke and told him that Miss Dobson
+      had very kindly promised to lunch with him to-morrow. &ldquo;And,&rdquo; said Zuleika,
+      &ldquo;I simply WON&rsquo;T unless you will.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Duke looked at her. Had it not been arranged that he and she should
+      spend his last day together? Did it mean nothing that she had given him
+      her ear-rings? Quickly drawing about him some remnants of his tattered
+      pride, he hid his wound, and accepted the invitation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It seems a shame,&rdquo; said Zuleika to The MacQuern, &ldquo;to ask you to bring
+      this great heavy box all the way back again. But&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Those last poor rags of pride fell away now. The Duke threw a prehensile
+      hand on the casket, and, coldly glaring at The MacQuern, pointed with his
+      other hand towards the College gate. He, and he alone, was going to see
+      Zuleika home. It was his last night on earth, and he was not to be trifled
+      with. Such was the message of his eyes. The Scotsman&rsquo;s flashed back a
+      precisely similar message.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Men had fought for Zuleika, but never in her presence. Her eyes dilated.
+      She had not the slightest impulse to throw herself between the two
+      antagonists. Indeed, she stepped back, so as not to be in the way. A short
+      sharp fight&mdash;how much better that is than bad blood! She hoped the
+      better man would win; and (do not misjudge her) she rather hoped this man
+      was the Duke. It occurred to her&mdash;a vague memory of some play or
+      picture&mdash;that she ought to be holding aloft a candelabra of lit
+      tapers; no, that was only done indoors, and in the eighteenth century.
+      Ought she to hold a sponge? Idle, these speculations of hers, and based on
+      complete ignorance of the manners and customs of undergraduates. The Duke
+      and The MacQuern would never have come to blows in the presence of a lady.
+      Their conflict was necessarily spiritual.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And it was the Scotsman, Scots though he was, who had to yield. Cowed by
+      something demoniac in the will-power pitted against his, he found himself
+      retreating in the direction indicated by the Duke&rsquo;s forefinger.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As he disappeared into the porch, Zuleika turned to the Duke. &ldquo;You were
+      splendid,&rdquo; she said softly. He knew that very well. Does the stag in his
+      hour of victory need a diploma from the hind? Holding in his hands the
+      malachite casket that was the symbol of his triumph, the Duke smiled
+      dictatorially at his darling. He came near to thinking of her as a
+      chattel. Then with a pang he remembered his abject devotion to her. Abject
+      no longer though! The victory he had just won restored his manhood, his
+      sense of supremacy among his fellows. He loved this woman on equal terms.
+      She was transcendent? So was he, Dorset. To-night the world had on its
+      moonlit surface two great ornaments&mdash;Zuleika and himself. Neither of
+      the pair could be replaced. Was one of them to be shattered? Life and love
+      were good. He had been mad to think of dying.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      No word was spoken as they went together to Salt Cellar. She expected him
+      to talk about her conjuring tricks. Could he have been disappointed? She
+      dared not inquire; for she had the sensitiveness, though no other quality
+      whatsoever, of the true artist. She felt herself aggrieved. She had half a
+      mind to ask him to give her back her ear-rings. And by the way, he hadn&rsquo;t
+      yet thanked her for them! Well, she would make allowances for a condemned
+      man. And again she remembered the omen of which he had told her. She
+      looked at him, and then up into the sky. &ldquo;This same moon,&rdquo; she said to
+      herself, &ldquo;sees the battlements of Tankerton. Does she see two black owls
+      there? Does she hear them hooting?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They were in Salt Cellar now. &ldquo;Melisande!&rdquo; she called up to her window.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hush!&rdquo; said the Duke, &ldquo;I have something to say to you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, you can say it all the better without that great box in your hands.
+      I want my maid to carry it up to my room for me.&rdquo; And again she called out
+      for Melisande, and received no answer. &ldquo;I suppose she&rsquo;s in the
+      house-keeper&rsquo;s room or somewhere. You had better put the box down inside
+      the door. She can bring it up later.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She pushed open the postern; and the Duke, as he stepped across the
+      threshold, thrilled with a romantic awe. Re-emerging a moment later into
+      the moonlight, he felt that she had been right about the box: it was fatal
+      to self-expression; and he was glad he had not tried to speak on the way
+      from the Front Quad: the soul needs gesture; and the Duke&rsquo;s first gesture
+      now was to seize Zuleika&rsquo;s hands in his.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She was too startled to move. &ldquo;Zuleika!&rdquo; he whispered. She was too angry
+      to speak, but with a sudden twist she freed her wrists and darted back.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He laughed. &ldquo;You are afraid of me. You are afraid to let me kiss you,
+      because you are afraid of loving me. This afternoon&mdash;here&mdash;I all
+      but kissed you. I mistook you for Death. I was enamoured of Death. I was a
+      fool. That is what YOU are, you incomparable darling: you are a fool. You
+      are afraid of life. I am not. I love life. I am going to live for you, do
+      you hear?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She stood with her back to the postern. Anger in her eyes had given place
+      to scorn. &ldquo;You mean,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;that you go back on your promise?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will release me from it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You mean you are afraid to die?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will not be guilty of my death. You love me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good night, you miserable coward.&rdquo; She stepped back through the postern.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t, Zuleika! Miss Dobson, don&rsquo;t! Pull yourself together! Reflect! I
+      implore you... You will repent...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Slowly she closed the postern on him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will repent. I shall wait here, under your window...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He heard a bolt rasped into its socket. He heard the retreat of a light
+      tread on the paven hall.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And he hadn&rsquo;t even kissed her! That was his first thought. He ground his
+      heel in the gravel.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And he had hurt her wrists! This was Zuleika&rsquo;s first thought, as she came
+      into her bedroom. Yes, there were two red marks where he had held her. No
+      man had ever dared to lay hands on her. With a sense of contamination, she
+      proceeded to wash her hands thoroughly with soap and water. From time to
+      time such words as &ldquo;cad&rdquo; and &ldquo;beast&rdquo; came through her teeth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She dried her hands and flung herself into a chair, arose and went pacing
+      the room. So this was the end of her great night! What had she done to
+      deserve it? How had he dared?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was a sound as of rain against the window. She was glad. The night
+      needed cleansing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He had told her she was afraid of life. Life!&mdash;to have herself
+      caressed by HIM; humbly to devote herself to being humbly doted on; to be
+      the slave of a slave; to swim in a private pond of treacle&mdash;ugh! If
+      the thought weren&rsquo;t so cloying and degrading, it would be laughable.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For a moment her hands hovered over those two golden and gemmed volumes
+      encasing Bradshaw and the A.B.C. Guide. To leave Oxford by an early train,
+      leave him to drown unthanked, unlooked at... But this could not be done
+      without slighting all those hundreds of other men ... And besides...
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Again that sound on the window-pane. This time it startled her. There
+      seemed to be no rain. Could it have been&mdash;little bits of gravel? She
+      darted noiselessly to the window, pushed it open, and looked down. She saw
+      the upturned face of the Duke. She stepped back, trembling with fury,
+      staring around her. Inspiration came.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She thrust her head out again. &ldquo;Are you there?&rdquo; she whispered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, yes. I knew you would come.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wait a moment, wait!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The water-jug stood where she had left it, on the floor by the wash-stand.
+      It was almost full, rather heavy. She bore it steadily to the window, and
+      looked out.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come a little nearer!&rdquo; she whispered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The upturned and moonlit face obeyed her. She saw its lips forming the
+      word &ldquo;Zuleika.&rdquo; She took careful aim.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Full on the face crashed the cascade of moonlit water, shooting out on all
+      sides like the petals of some great silver anemone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She laughed shrilly as she leapt back, letting the empty jug roll over on
+      the carpet. Then she stood tense, crouching, her hands to her mouth, her
+      eyes askance, as much as to say &ldquo;Now I&rsquo;ve done it!&rdquo; She listened hard,
+      holding her breath. In the stillness of the night was a faint sound of
+      dripping water, and presently of footsteps going away. Then stillness
+      unbroken.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XI
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      I said that I was Clio&rsquo;s servant. And I felt, when I said it, that you
+      looked at me dubiously, and murmured among yourselves.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Not that you doubted I was somewhat connected with Clio&rsquo;s household. The
+      lady after whom I have named this book is alive, and well known to some of
+      you personally, to all of you by repute. Nor had you finished my first
+      page before you guessed my theme to be that episode in her life which
+      caused so great a sensation among the newspaper-reading public a few years
+      ago. (It all seems but yesterday, does it not? They are still vivid to us,
+      those head-lines. We have hardly yet ceased to be edified by the morals
+      pointed in those leading articles.) And yet very soon you found me
+      behaving just like any novelist&mdash;reporting the exact words that
+      passed between the protagonists at private interviews&mdash;aye, and the
+      exact thoughts and emotions that were in their breasts. Little wonder that
+      you wondered! Let me make things clear to you.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I have my mistress&rsquo; leave to do this. At first (for reasons which you will
+      presently understand) she demurred. But I pointed out to her that I had
+      been placed in a false position, and that until this were rectified
+      neither she nor I could reap the credit due to us.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Know, then, that for a long time Clio had been thoroughly discontented.
+      She was happy enough, she says, when first she left the home of Pierus,
+      her father, to become a Muse. On those humble beginnings she looks back
+      with affection. She kept only one servant, Herodotus. The romantic element
+      in him appealed to her. He died, and she had about her a large staff of
+      able and faithful servants, whose way of doing their work irritated and
+      depressed her. To them, apparently, life consisted of nothing but politics
+      and military operations&mdash;things to which she, being a woman, was
+      somewhat indifferent. She was jealous of Melpomene. It seemed to her that
+      her own servants worked from without at a mass of dry details which might
+      as well be forgotten. Melpomene&rsquo;s worked on material that was eternally
+      interesting&mdash;the souls of men and women; and not from without,
+      either; but rather casting themselves into those souls and showing to us
+      the essence of them. She was particularly struck by a remark of
+      Aristotle&rsquo;s, that tragedy was &ldquo;more philosophic&rdquo; than history, inasmuch as
+      it concerned itself with what might be, while history was concerned with
+      merely what had been. This summed up for her what she had often felt, but
+      could not have exactly formulated. She saw that the department over which
+      she presided was at best an inferior one. She saw that just what she had
+      liked&mdash;and rightly liked&mdash;in poor dear Herodotus was just what
+      prevented him from being a good historian. It was wrong to mix up facts
+      and fancies. But why should her present servants deal with only one little
+      special set of the variegated facts of life? It was not in her power to
+      interfere. The Nine, by the terms of the charter that Zeus had granted to
+      them, were bound to leave their servants an absolutely free hand. But Clio
+      could at least refrain from reading the works which, by a legal fiction,
+      she was supposed to inspire. Once or twice in the course of a century, she
+      would glance into this or that new history book, only to lay it down with
+      a shrug of her shoulders. Some of the mediaeval chronicles she rather
+      liked. But when, one day, Pallas asked her what she thought of &ldquo;The
+      Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire&rdquo; her only answer was &ldquo;ostis toia
+      echei en edone echei en edone toia&rdquo; (For people who like that kind of
+      thing, that is the kind of thing they like). This she did let slip.
+      Generally, throughout all the centuries, she kept up a pretence of
+      thinking history the greatest of all the arts. She always held her head
+      high among her Sisters. It was only on the sly that she was an omnivorous
+      reader of dramatic and lyric poetry. She watched with keen interest the
+      earliest developments of the prose romance in southern Europe; and after
+      the publication of &ldquo;Clarissa Harlowe&rdquo; she spent practically all her time
+      in reading novels. It was not until the Spring of the year 1863 that an
+      entirely new element forced itself into her peaceful life. Zeus fell in
+      love with her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      To us, for whom so quickly &ldquo;time doth transfix the flourish set on youth,&rdquo;
+       there is something strange, even a trifle ludicrous, in the thought that
+      Zeus, after all these years, is still at the beck and call of his
+      passions. And it seems anyhow lamentable that he has not yet gained
+      self-confidence enough to appear in his own person to the lady of his
+      choice, and is still at pains to transform himself into whatever object he
+      deems likeliest to please her. To Clio, suddenly from Olympus, he flashed
+      down in the semblance of Kinglake&rsquo;s &ldquo;Invasion of the Crimea&rdquo; (four vols.,
+      large 8vo, half-calf). She saw through his disguise immediately, and, with
+      great courage and independence, bade him begone. Rebuffed, he was not
+      deflected. Indeed it would seem that Clio&rsquo;s high spirit did but sharpen
+      his desire. Hardly a day passed but he appeared in what he hoped would be
+      the irresistible form&mdash;a recently discovered fragment of Polybius, an
+      advance copy of the forthcoming issue of &ldquo;The Historical Review,&rdquo; the
+      note-book of Professor Carl Voertschlaffen... One day, all-prying Hermes
+      told him of Clio&rsquo;s secret addiction to novel-reading. Thenceforth, year
+      in, year out, it was in the form of fiction that Zeus wooed her. The sole
+      result was that she grew sick of the sight of novels, and found a perverse
+      pleasure in reading history. These dry details of what had actually
+      happened were a relief, she told herself, from all that make-believe.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One Sunday afternoon&mdash;the day before that very Monday on which this
+      narrative opens&mdash;it occurred to her how fine a thing history might be
+      if the historian had the novelist&rsquo;s privileges. Suppose he could be
+      present at every scene which he was going to describe, a presence
+      invisible and inevitable, and equipped with power to see into the breasts
+      of all the persons whose actions he set himself to watch...
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      While the Muse was thus musing, Zeus (disguised as Miss Annie S. Swan&rsquo;s
+      latest work) paid his usual visit. She let her eyes rest on him. Hither
+      and thither she divided her swift mind, and addressed him in winged words.
+      &ldquo;Zeus, father of gods and men, cloud-compeller, what wouldst thou of me?
+      But first will I say what I would of thee&rdquo;; and she besought him to extend
+      to the writers of history such privileges as are granted to novelists. His
+      whole manner had changed. He listened to her with the massive gravity of a
+      ruler who never yet has allowed private influence to obscure his judgment.
+      He was silent for some time after her appeal. Then, in a voice of thunder,
+      which made quake the slopes of Parnassus, he gave his answer. He admitted
+      the disabilities under which historians laboured. But the novelists&mdash;were
+      they not equally handicapped? They had to treat of persons who never
+      existed, events which never were. Only by the privilege of being in the
+      thick of those events, and in the very bowels of those persons, could they
+      hope to hold the reader&rsquo;s attention. If similar privileges were granted to
+      the historian, the demand for novels would cease forthwith, and many
+      thousand of hard-working, deserving men and women would be thrown out of
+      employment. In fact, Clio had asked him an impossible favour. But he might&mdash;he
+      said he conceivably might&mdash;be induced to let her have her way just
+      once. In that event, all she would have to do was to keep her eye on the
+      world&rsquo;s surface, and then, so soon as she had reason to think that
+      somewhere was impending something of great import, to choose an historian.
+      On him, straightway, Zeus would confer invisibility, inevitability, and
+      psychic penetration, with a flawless memory thrown in.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On the following afternoon, Clio&rsquo;s roving eye saw Zuleika stepping from
+      the Paddington platform into the Oxford train. A few moments later I found
+      myself suddenly on Parnassus. In hurried words Clio told me how I came
+      there, and what I had to do. She said she had selected me because she knew
+      me to be honest, sober, and capable, and no stranger to Oxford. Another
+      moment, and I was at the throne of Zeus. With a majesty of gesture which I
+      shall never forget, he stretched his hand over me, and I was indued with
+      the promised gifts. And then, lo! I was on the platform of Oxford station.
+      The train was not due for another hour. But the time passed pleasantly
+      enough.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was fun to float all unseen, to float all unhampered by any corporeal
+      nonsense, up and down the platform. It was fun to watch the inmost
+      thoughts of the station-master, of the porters, of the young person at the
+      buffet. But of course I did not let the holiday-mood master me. I realised
+      the seriousness of my mission. I must concentrate myself on the matter in
+      hand: Miss Dobson&rsquo;s visit. What was going to happen? Prescience was no
+      part of my outfit. From what I knew about Miss Dobson, I deduced that she
+      would be a great success. That was all. Had I had the instinct that was
+      given to those Emperors in stone, and even to the dog Corker, I should
+      have begged Clio to send in my stead some man of stronger nerve. She had
+      charged me to be calmly vigilant, scrupulously fair. I could have been
+      neither, had I from the outset foreseen all. Only because the immediate
+      future was broken to me by degrees, first as a set of possibilities, then
+      as a set of probabilities that yet might not come off, was I able to
+      fulfil the trust imposed in me. Even so, it was hard. I had always
+      accepted the doctrine that to understand all is to forgive all. Thanks to
+      Zeus, I understood all about Miss Dobson, and yet there were moments when
+      she repelled me&mdash;moments when I wished to see her neither from
+      without nor from within. So soon as the Duke of Dorset met her on the
+      Monday night, I felt I was in duty bound to keep him under constant
+      surveillance. Yet there were moments when I was so sorry for him that I
+      deemed myself a brute for shadowing him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ever since I can remember, I have been beset by a recurring doubt as to
+      whether I be or be not quite a gentleman. I have never attempted to define
+      that term: I have but feverishly wondered whether in its usual acceptation
+      (whatever that is) it be strictly applicable to myself. Many people hold
+      that the qualities connoted by it are primarily moral&mdash;a kind heart,
+      honourable conduct, and so forth. On Clio&rsquo;s mission, I found honour and
+      kindness tugging me in precisely opposite directions. In so far as honour
+      tugged the harder, was I the more or the less gentlemanly? But the test is
+      not a fair one. Curiosity tugged on the side of honour. This goes to prove
+      me a cad? Oh, set against it the fact that I did at one point betray
+      Clio&rsquo;s trust. When Miss Dobson had done the deed recorded at the close of
+      the foregoing chapter, I gave the Duke of Dorset an hour&rsquo;s grace.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I could have done no less. In the lives of most of us is some one thing
+      that we would not after the lapse of how many years soever confess to our
+      most understanding friend; the thing that does not bear thinking of; the
+      one thing to be forgotten; the unforgettable thing. Not the commission of
+      some great crime: this can be atoned for by great penances; and the very
+      enormity of it has a dark grandeur. Maybe, some little deadly act of
+      meanness, some hole-and-corner treachery? But what a man has once willed
+      to do, his will helps him to forget. The unforgettable thing in his life
+      is usually not a thing he has done or left undone, but a thing done to him&mdash;some
+      insolence or cruelty for which he could not, or did not, avenge himself.
+      This it is that often comes back to him, years after, in his dreams, and
+      thrusts itself suddenly into his waking thoughts, so that he clenches his
+      hands, and shakes his head, and hums a tune loudly&mdash;anything to beat
+      it off. In the very hour when first befell him that odious humiliation,
+      would you have spied on him? I gave the Duke of Dorset an hour&rsquo;s grace.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      What were his thoughts in that interval, what words, if any, he uttered to
+      the night, never will be known. For this, Clio has abused me in language
+      less befitting a Muse than a fishwife. I do not care. I would rather be
+      chidden by Clio than by my own sense of delicacy, any day.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XII
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Not less averse than from dogging the Duke was I from remaining another
+      instant in the presence of Miss Dobson. There seemed to be no possible
+      excuse for her. This time she had gone too far. She was outrageous. As
+      soon as the Duke had had time to get clear away, I floated out into the
+      night.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I may have consciously reasoned that the best way to forget the present
+      was in the revival of memories. Or I may have been driven by a mere homing
+      instinct. Anyhow, it was in the direction of my old College that I went.
+      Midnight was tolling as I floated in through the shut grim gate at which I
+      had so often stood knocking for admission.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The man who now occupied my room had sported his oak&mdash;my oak. I read
+      the name on the visiting-card attached thereto&mdash;E. J. Craddock&mdash;and
+      went in.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      E. J. Craddock, interloper, was sitting at my table, with elbows squared
+      and head on one side, in the act of literary composition. The oars and
+      caps on my walls betokened him a rowing-man. Indeed, I recognised his
+      somewhat heavy face as that of the man whom, from the Judas barge this
+      afternoon, I had seen rowing &ldquo;stroke&rdquo; in my College Eight.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He ought, therefore, to have been in bed and asleep two hours ago. And the
+      offence of his vigil was aggravated by a large tumbler that stood in front
+      of him, containing whisky and soda. From this he took a deep draught. Then
+      he read over what he had written. I did not care to peer over his shoulder
+      at MS. which, though written in my room, was not intended for my eyes. But
+      the writer&rsquo;s brain was open to me; and he had written &ldquo;I, the undersigned
+      Edward Joseph Craddock, do hereby leave and bequeath all my personal and
+      other property to Zuleika Dobson, spinster. This is my last will and
+      testament.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He gnawed his pen, and presently altered the &ldquo;hereby leave&rdquo; to &ldquo;hereby and
+      herewith leave.&rdquo; Fool!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I thereby and therewith left him. As I emerged through the floor of the
+      room above&mdash;through the very carpet that had so often been steeped in
+      wine, and encrusted with smithereens of glass, in the brave old days of a
+      well-remembered occupant&mdash;I found two men, both of them evidently
+      reading-men. One of them was pacing round the room. &ldquo;Do you know,&rdquo; he was
+      saying, &ldquo;what she reminded me of, all the time? Those words&mdash;aren&rsquo;t
+      they in the Song of Solomon?&mdash;&lsquo;fair as the moon, clear as the sun,
+      and... and...&rsquo;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;&lsquo;Terrible as an army with banners,&rsquo;&rdquo; supplied his host&mdash;rather
+      testily, for he was writing a letter. It began &ldquo;My dear Father. By the
+      time you receive this I shall have taken a step which...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Clearly it was vain to seek distraction in my old College. I floated out
+      into the untenanted meadows. Over them was the usual coverlet of white
+      vapour, trailed from the Isis right up to Merton Wall. The scent of these
+      meadows&rsquo; moisture is the scent of Oxford. Even in hottest noon, one feels
+      that the sun has not dried THEM. Always there is moisture drifting across
+      them, drifting into the Colleges. It, one suspects, must have had much to
+      do with the evocation of what is called the Oxford spirit&mdash;that
+      gentlest spirit, so lingering and searching, so dear to them who as youths
+      were brought into ken of it, so exasperating to them who were not. Yes,
+      certainly, it is this mild, miasmal air, not less than the grey beauty and
+      gravity of the buildings, that has helped Oxford to produce, and foster
+      eternally, her peculiar race of artist-scholars, scholar-artists. The
+      undergraduate, in his brief periods of residence, is too buoyant to be
+      mastered by the spirit of the place. He does but salute it, and catch the
+      manner. It is on him who stays to spend his maturity here that the spirit
+      will in its fulness gradually descend. The buildings and their traditions
+      keep astir in his mind whatsoever is gracious; the climate, enfolding and
+      enfeebling him, lulling him, keeps him careless of the sharp, harsh,
+      exigent realities of the outer world. Careless? Not utterly. These
+      realities may be seen by him. He may study them, be amused or touched by
+      them. But they cannot fire him. Oxford is too damp for that. The
+      &ldquo;movements&rdquo; made there have been no more than protests against the
+      mobility of others. They have been without the dynamic quality implied in
+      their name. They have been no more than the sighs of men gazing at what
+      other men had left behind them; faint, impossible appeals to the god of
+      retrogression, uttered for their own sake and ritual, rather than with any
+      intent that they should be heard. Oxford, that lotus-land, saps the
+      will-power, the power of action. But, in doing so, it clarifies the mind,
+      makes larger the vision, gives, above all, that playful and caressing
+      suavity of manner which comes of a conviction that nothing matters, except
+      ideas, and that not even ideas are worth dying for, inasmuch as the ghosts
+      of them slain seem worthy of yet more piously elaborate homage than can be
+      given to them in their heyday. If the Colleges could be transferred to the
+      dry and bracing top of some hill, doubtless they would be more evidently
+      useful to the nation. But let us be glad there is no engineer or enchanter
+      to compass that task. Egomet, I would liefer have the rest of England
+      subside into the sea than have Oxford set on a salubrious level. For there
+      is nothing in England to be matched with what lurks in the vapours of
+      these meadows, and in the shadows of these spires&mdash;that mysterious,
+      inenubilable spirit, spirit of Oxford. Oxford! The very sight of the word
+      printed, or sound of it spoken, is fraught for me with most actual magic.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And on that moonlit night when I floated among the vapours of these
+      meadows, myself less than a vapour, I knew and loved Oxford as never
+      before, as never since. Yonder, in the Colleges, was the fume and fret of
+      tragedy&mdash;Love as Death&rsquo;s decoy, and Youth following her. What then?
+      Not Oxford was menaced. Come what might, not a stone of Oxford&rsquo;s walls
+      would be loosened, nor a wreath of her vapours be undone, nor lost a
+      breath of her sacred spirit.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I floated up into the higher, drier air, that I might, for once, see the
+      total body of that spirit.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There lay Oxford far beneath me, like a map in grey and black and silver.
+      All that I had known only as great single things I saw now outspread in
+      apposition, and tiny; tiny symbols, as it were, of themselves, greatly
+      symbolising their oneness. There they lay, these multitudinous and
+      disparate quadrangles, all their rivalries merged in the making of a great
+      catholic pattern. And the roofs of the buildings around them seemed level
+      with their lawns. No higher the roofs of the very towers. Up from their
+      tiny segment of the earth&rsquo;s spinning surface they stood negligible beneath
+      infinity. And new, too, quite new, in eternity; transient upstarts. I saw
+      Oxford as a place that had no more past and no more future than a
+      mining-camp. I smiled down. O hoary and unassailable mushroom!... But if a
+      man carry his sense of proportion far enough, lo! he is back at the point
+      from which he started. He knows that eternity, as conceived by him, is but
+      an instant in eternity, and infinity but a speck in infinity. How should
+      they belittle the things near to him?... Oxford was venerable and magical,
+      after all, and enduring. Aye, and not because she would endure was it the
+      less lamentable that the young lives within her walls were like to be
+      taken. My equanimity was gone; and a tear fell on Oxford.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And then, as though Oxford herself were speaking up to me, the air
+      vibrated with a sweet noise of music. It was the hour of one; the end of
+      the Duke&rsquo;s hour of grace. Through the silvery tangle of sounds from other
+      clocks I floated quickly down to the Broad.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0015" id="link2H_4_0015">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XIII
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      I had on the way a horrible apprehension. What if the Duke, in his agony,
+      had taken the one means to forgetfulness? His room, I could see, was lit
+      up; but a man does not necessarily choose to die in the dark. I hovered,
+      afraid, over the dome of the Sheldonian. I saw that the window of the room
+      above the Duke&rsquo;s was also lit up. And there was no reason at all to doubt
+      the survival of Noaks. Perhaps the sight of him would hearten me.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I was wrong. The sight of Noaks in his room was as dismal a thing as could
+      be. With his chin sunk on his breast, he sat there, on a rickety chair,
+      staring up at the mantel-piece. This he had decked out as a sort of
+      shrine. In the centre, aloft on an inverted tin that had contained
+      Abernethy biscuits, stood a blue plush frame, with an inner rim of brass,
+      several sizes too big for the picture-postcard installed in it. Zuleika&rsquo;s
+      image gazed forth with a smile that was obviously not intended for the
+      humble worshipper at this execrable shrine. On either side of her stood a
+      small vase, one holding some geraniums, the other some mignonette. And
+      just beneath her was placed that iron ring which, rightly or wrongly,
+      Noaks supposed to alleviate rheumatism&mdash;that same iron ring which, by
+      her touch to-night, had been charged for him with a yet deeper magic,
+      insomuch that he dared no longer wear it, and had set it before her as an
+      oblation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Yet, for all his humility, he was possessed by a spirit of egoism that
+      repelled me. While he sat peering over his spectacles at the beauteous
+      image, he said again and again to himself, in a hollow voice, &ldquo;I am so
+      young to die.&rdquo; Every time he said this, two large, pear-shaped tears
+      emerged from behind his spectacles, and found their way to his waistcoat.
+      It did not seem to strike him that quite half of the undergraduates who
+      contemplated death&mdash;and contemplated it in a fearless, wholesome,
+      manly fashion&mdash;were his juniors. It seemed to seem to him that his
+      own death, even though all those other far brighter and more promising
+      lives than his were to be sacrificed, was a thing to bother about. Well,
+      if he did not want to die, why could he not have, at least, the courage of
+      his cowardice? The world would not cease to revolve because Noaks still
+      clung to its surface. For me the whole tragedy was cheapened by his
+      participation in it. I was fain to leave him. His squint, his short legs
+      dangling towards the floor, his tear-sodden waistcoat, and his refrain &ldquo;I
+      am so young to die,&rdquo; were beyond measure exasperating. Yet I hesitated to
+      pass into the room beneath, for fear of what I might see there.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      How long I might have paltered, had no sound come from that room, I know
+      not. But a sound came, sharp and sudden in the night, instantly
+      reassuring. I swept down into the presence of the Duke.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He stood with his head flung back and his arms folded, gorgeous in a
+      dressing-gown of crimson brocade. In animation of pride and pomp, he
+      looked less like a mortal man than like a figure from some great biblical
+      group by Paul Veronese.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And this was he whom I had presumed to pity! And this was he whom I had
+      half expected to find dead.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His face, usually pale, was now red; and his hair, which no eye had ever
+      yet seen disordered, stood up in a glistening shock. These two changes in
+      him intensified the effect of vitality. One of them, however, vanished as
+      I watched it. The Duke&rsquo;s face resumed its pallor. I realised then that he
+      had but blushed; and I realised, simultaneously, that what had called that
+      blush to his cheek was what had also been the signal to me that he was
+      alive. His blush had been a pendant to his sneeze. And his sneeze had been
+      a pendant to that outrage which he had been striving to forget. He had
+      caught cold.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He had caught cold. In the hour of his soul&rsquo;s bitter need, his body had
+      been suborned against him. Base! Had he not stripped his body of its wet
+      vesture? Had he not vigorously dried his hair, and robed himself in
+      crimson, and struck in solitude such attitudes as were most congruous with
+      his high spirit and high rank? He had set himself to crush remembrance of
+      that by which through his body his soul had been assailed. And well had he
+      known that in this conflict a giant demon was his antagonist. But that his
+      own body would play traitor&mdash;no, this he had not foreseen. This was
+      too base a thing to be foreseen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He stood quite still, a figure orgulous and splendent. And it seemed as
+      though the hot night, too, stood still, to watch him, in awe, through the
+      open lattices of his window, breathlessly. But to me, equipped to see
+      beneath the surface, he was piteous, piteous in ratio to the pretension of
+      his aspect. Had he crouched down and sobbed, I should have been as much
+      relieved as he. But he stood seignorial and aquiline.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Painless, by comparison with this conflict in him, seemed the conflict
+      that had raged in him yesternight. Then, it had been his dandihood against
+      his passion for Zuleika. What mattered the issue? Whichever won, the
+      victory were sweet. And of this he had all the while been subconscious,
+      gallantly though he fought for his pride of dandihood. To-night in the
+      battle between pride and memory, he knew from the outset that pride&rsquo;s was
+      but a forlorn hope, and that memory would be barbarous in her triumph. Not
+      winning to oblivion, he must hate with a fathomless hatred. Of all the
+      emotions, hatred is the most excruciating. Of all the objects of hatred, a
+      woman once loved is the most hateful. Of all deaths, the bitterest that
+      can befall a man is that he lay down his life to flatter the woman he
+      deems vilest of her sex.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Such was the death that the Duke of Dorset saw confronting him. Most men,
+      when they are at war with the past, have the future as ally. Looking
+      steadfastly forward, they can forget. The Duke&rsquo;s future was openly in
+      league with his past. For him, prospect was memory. All that there was for
+      him of future was the death to which his honour was pledged. To envisage
+      that was to... no, he would NOT envisage it! With a passionate effort he
+      hypnotised himself to think of nothing at all. His brain, into which, by
+      the power Zeus gave me, I was gazing, became a perfect vacuum, insulated
+      by the will. It was the kind of experiment which scientists call
+      &ldquo;beautiful.&rdquo; And yes, beautiful it was.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But not in the eyes of Nature. She abhors a vacuum. Seeing the enormous
+      odds against which the Duke was fighting, she might well have stood aside.
+      But she has no sense of sport whatsoever. She stepped in.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At first I did not realise what was happening. I saw the Duke&rsquo;s eyes
+      contract, and the muscles of his mouth drawn down, and, at the same time,
+      a tense upward movement of his whole body. Then, suddenly, the strain
+      undone: a downward dart of the head, a loud percussion. Thrice the Duke
+      sneezed, with a sound that was as the bursting of the dams of body and
+      soul together; then sneezed again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Now was his will broken. He capitulated. In rushed shame and horror and
+      hatred, pell-mell, to ravage him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      What care now, what use, for deportment? He walked coweringly round and
+      round his room, with frantic gestures, with head bowed. He shuffled and
+      slunk. His dressing-gown had the look of a gabardine.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Shame and horror and hatred went slashing and hewing throughout the fallen
+      citadel. At length, exhausted, he flung himself down on the window-seat
+      and leaned out into the night, panting. The air was full of thunder. He
+      clutched at his throat. From the depths of the black caverns beneath their
+      brows the eyes of the unsleeping Emperors watched him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He had gone through much in the day that was past. He had loved and lost.
+      He had striven to recapture, and had failed. In a strange resolve he had
+      found serenity and joy. He had been at the point of death, and had been
+      saved. He had seen that his beloved was worthless, and he had not cared.
+      He had fought for her, and conquered; and had pled with her, and&mdash;all
+      these memories were loathsome by reason of that final thing which had all
+      the while lain in wait for him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He looked back and saw himself as he had been at a score of crucial
+      moments in the day&mdash;always in the shadow of that final thing. He saw
+      himself as he had been on the playing-fields of Eton; aye! and in the arms
+      of his nurse, to and fro on the terrace of Tankerton&mdash;always in the
+      shadow of that final thing, always piteous and ludicrous, doomed. Thank
+      heaven the future was unknowable? It wasn&rsquo;t, now. To-morrow&mdash;to-day&mdash;he
+      must die for that accursed fiend of a woman&mdash;the woman with the hyena
+      laugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      What to do meanwhile? Impossible to sleep. He felt in his body the strain
+      of his quick sequence of spiritual adventures. He was dog-tired. But his
+      brain was furiously out of hand: no stopping it. And the night was
+      stifling. And all the while, in the dead silence, as though his soul had
+      ears, there was a sound. It was a very faint, unearthly sound, and seemed
+      to come from nowhere, yet to have a meaning. He feared he was rather
+      over-wrought.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He must express himself. That would soothe him. Ever since childhood he
+      had had, from time to time, the impulse to set down in writing his
+      thoughts or his moods. In such exercises he had found for his
+      self-consciousness the vent which natures less reserved than his find in
+      casual talk with Tom, Dick and Harry, with Jane, Susan, and Liz. Aloof
+      from either of these triads, he had in his first term at Eton taken to
+      himself as confidant, and retained ever since, a great quarto volume,
+      bound in red morocco and stamped with his coronet and cypher. It was
+      herein, year by year, that his soul spread itself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He wrote mostly in English prose; but other modes were not infrequent.
+      Whenever he was abroad, it was his courteous habit to write in the
+      language of the country where he was residing&mdash;French, when he was in
+      his house on the Champs Elysees; Italian, when he was in his villa at
+      Baiae; and so on. When he was in his own country he felt himself free to
+      deviate sometimes from the vernacular into whatever language were aptest
+      to his frame of mind. In his sterner moods he gravitated to Latin, and
+      wrought the noble iron of that language to effects that were, if anything,
+      a trifle over-impressive. He found for his highest flights of
+      contemplation a handy vehicle in Sanscrit. In hours of mere joy it was
+      Greek poetry that flowed likeliest from his pen; and he had a special
+      fondness for the metre of Alcaeus.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And now, too, in his darkest hour, it was Greek that surged in him&mdash;iambics
+      of thunderous wrath such as those which are volleyed by Prometheus. But as
+      he sat down to his writing-table, and unlocked the dear old album, and
+      dipped his pen in the ink, a great calm fell on him. The iambics in him
+      began to breathe such sweetness as is on the lips of Alcestis going to her
+      doom. But, just as he set pen to paper, his hand faltered, and he sprang
+      up, victim of another and yet more violent fit of sneezing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Disbuskined, dangerous. The spirit of Juvenal woke in him. He would flay.
+      He would make Woman (as he called Zuleika) writhe. Latin hexameters, of
+      course. An epistle to his heir presumptive... &ldquo;Vae tibi,&rdquo; he began,
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+     &ldquo;Vae tibi, vae misero, nisi circumspexeris artes
+     Femineas, nam nulla salus quin femina possit
+     Tradere, nulla fides quin&rdquo;&mdash;
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Quin,&rdquo; he repeated. In writing soliloquies, his trouble was to curb
+      inspiration. The thought that he was addressing his heir-presumptive&mdash;now
+      heir-only-too-apparent&mdash;gave him pause. Nor, he reflected, was he
+      addressing this brute only, but a huge posthumous audience. These
+      hexameters would be sure to appear in the &ldquo;authorised&rdquo; biography. &ldquo;A
+      melancholy interest attaches to the following lines, written, it would
+      seem, on the very eve of&rdquo;... He winced. Was it really possible, and no
+      dream, that he was to die to-morrow&mdash;to-day?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Even you, unassuming reader, go about with a vague notion that in your
+      case, somehow, the ultimate demand of nature will be waived. The Duke,
+      until he conceived his sudden desire to die, had deemed himself certainly
+      exempt. And now, as he sat staring at his window, he saw in the paling of
+      the night the presage of the dawn of his own last day. Sometimes (orphaned
+      though he was in early childhood) he had even found it hard to believe
+      there was no exemption for those to whom he stood in any personal
+      relation. He remembered how, soon after he went to Eton, he had received
+      almost with incredulity the news of the death of his god-father, Lord
+      Stackley, an octogenarian.... He took from the table his album, knowing
+      that on one of the earliest pages was inscribed his boyish sense of that
+      bereavement. Yes, here the passage was, written in a large round hand:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Death knocks, as we know, at the door of the cottage and of the castle.
+      He stalks up the front-garden and the steep steps of the semi-detached
+      villa, and plies the ornamental knocker so imperiously that the panels of
+      imitation stained glass quiver in the thin front-door. Even the family
+      that occupies the topmost story of a building without a lift is on his
+      ghastly visiting-list. He rattles his fleshless knuckles against the door
+      of the gypsy&rsquo;s caravan. Into the savage&rsquo;s tent, wigwam, or wattled hut, he
+      darts unbidden. Even on the hermit in the cave he forces his obnoxious
+      presence. His is an universal beat, and he walks it with a grin. But be
+      sure it is at the sombre portal of the nobleman that he knocks with the
+      greatest gusto. It is there, where haply his visit will be commemorated
+      with a hatchment; it is then, when the muffled thunder of the Dead March
+      in &lsquo;Saul&rsquo; will soon be rolling in cathedrals; it is then, it is there,
+      that the pride of his unquestioned power comes grimliest home to him. Is
+      there no withstanding him? Why should he be admitted always with awe, a
+      cravenly-honoured guest? When next he calls, let the butler send him about
+      his business, or tell him to step round to the servants&rsquo; entrance. If it
+      be made plain to him that his visits are an impertinence, he will soon be
+      disemboldened. Once the aristocracy make a stand against him, there need
+      be no more trouble about the exorbitant Duties named after him. And for
+      the hereditary system&mdash;that system which both offends the common
+      sense of the Radical, and wounds the Tory by its implied admission that
+      noblemen are mortal&mdash;a seemly substitute will have been found.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Artless and crude in expression, very boyish, it seemed now to its author.
+      Yet, in its simple wistfulness, it had quality: it rang true. The Duke
+      wondered whether, with all that he had since mastered in the great art of
+      English prose, he had not lost something, too.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is there no withstanding him?&rdquo; To think that the boy who uttered that
+      cry, and gave back so brave an answer, was within nine years to go seek
+      death of his own accord! How the gods must be laughing! Yes, the exquisite
+      point of the joke, for them, was that he CHOSE to die. But&mdash;and, as
+      the thought flashed through him, he started like a man shot&mdash;what if
+      he chose not to? Stay, surely there was some reason why he MUST die. Else,
+      why throughout the night had he taken his doom for granted?... Honour:
+      yes, he had pledged himself. Better death than dishonour. Was it, though?
+      was it? Ah, he, who had come so near to death, saw dishonour as a tiny
+      trifle. Where was the sting of it? Not he would be ridiculous to-morrow&mdash;to-day.
+      Every one would acclaim his splendid act of moral courage. She, she, the
+      hyena woman, would be the fool. No one would have thought of dying for
+      her, had he not set the example. Every one would follow his new example.
+      Yes, he would save Oxford yet. That was his duty. Duty and darling
+      vengeance! And life&mdash;life!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was full dawn now. Gone was that faint, monotonous sound which had
+      punctuated in his soul the horrors of his vigil. But, in reminder of those
+      hours, his lamp was still burning. He extinguished it; and the going-out
+      of that tarnished light made perfect his sense of release.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He threw wide his arms in welcome of the great adorable day, and of all
+      the great adorable days that were to be his.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He leaned out from his window, drinking the dawn in. The gods had made
+      merry over him, had they? And the cry of the hyena had made night hideous.
+      Well, it was his turn now. He would laugh last and loudest.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And already, for what was to be, he laughed outright into the morning;
+      insomuch that the birds in the trees of Trinity, and still more the
+      Emperors over the way, marvelled greatly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0016" id="link2H_4_0016">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XIV
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      They had awaited thousands and innumerable thousands of daybreaks in the
+      Broad, these Emperors, counting the long slow hours till the night were
+      over. It is in the night especially that their fallen greatness haunts
+      them. Day brings some distraction. They are not incurious of the lives
+      around them&mdash;these little lives that succeed one another so quickly.
+      To them, in their immemorial old age, youth is a constant wonder. And so
+      is death, which to them comes not. Youth or death&mdash;which, they had
+      often asked themselves, was the goodlier? But it was ill that these two
+      things should be mated. It was ill-come, this day of days.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Long after the Duke was in bed and asleep, his peal of laughter echoed in
+      the ears of the Emperors. Why had he laughed?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And they said to themselves &ldquo;We are very old men, and broken, and in a
+      land not our own. There are things that we do not understand.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Brief was the freshness of the dawn. From all points of the compass, dark
+      grey clouds mounted into the sky. There, taking their places as though in
+      accordance to a strategic plan laid down for them, they ponderously massed
+      themselves, and presently, as at a given signal, drew nearer to earth, and
+      halted, an irresistible great army, awaiting orders.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Somewhere under cover of them the sun went his way, transmitting a
+      sulphurous heat. The very birds in the trees of Trinity were oppressed and
+      did not twitter. The very leaves did not whisper.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Out through the railings, and across the road, prowled a skimpy and dingy
+      cat, trying to look like a tiger.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was all very sinister and dismal.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The hours passed. The Broad put forth, one by one, its signs of waking.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Soon after eight o&rsquo;clock, as usual, the front-door of the Duke&rsquo;s lodgings
+      was opened from within. The Emperors watched for the faint cloud of dust
+      that presently emerged, and for her whom it preceded. To them, this first
+      outcoming of the landlady&rsquo;s daughter was a moment of daily interest.
+      Katie!&mdash;they had known her as a toddling child; and later as a little
+      girl scampering off to school, all legs and pinafore and streaming golden
+      hair. And now she was sixteen years old. Her hair, tied back at the nape
+      of her neck, would very soon be &ldquo;up.&rdquo; Her big blue eyes were as they had
+      always been; but she had long passed out of pinafores into aprons, had
+      taken on a sedateness befitting her years and her duties, and was anxious
+      to be regarded rather as an aunt than as a sister by her brother Clarence,
+      aged twelve. The Emperors had always predicted that she would be pretty.
+      And very pretty she was.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As she came slowly out, with eyes downcast to her broom, sweeping the dust
+      so seriously over the doorstep and then across the pavement, and anon when
+      she reappeared with pail and scrubbing-brush, and abased herself before
+      the doorstep, and wrought so vehemently there, what filled her little soul
+      was not the dignity of manual labour. The duties that Zuleika had envied
+      her were dear to her exactly as they would have been, yesterday morning,
+      to Zuleika. The Emperors had often noticed that during vacations their
+      little favourite&rsquo;s treatment of the doorstep was languid and perfunctory.
+      They knew well her secret, and always (for who can be long in England
+      without becoming sentimental?) they cherished the hope of a romantic union
+      between her and &ldquo;a certain young gentleman,&rdquo; as they archly called the
+      Duke. His continued indifference to her they took almost as an affront to
+      themselves. Where in all England was a prettier, sweeter girl than their
+      Katie? The sudden irruption of Zuleika into Oxford was especially grievous
+      to them because they could no longer hope against hope that Katie would be
+      led by the Duke to the altar, and thence into the highest social circles,
+      and live happily ever after. Luckily it was for Katie, however, that they
+      had no power to fill her head with their foolish notions. It was well for
+      her to have never doubted she loved in vain. She had soon grown used to
+      her lot. Not until yesterday had there been any bitterness. Jealousy
+      surged in Katie at the very moment when she beheld Zuleika on the
+      threshold. A glance at the Duke&rsquo;s face when she showed the visitor up was
+      enough to acquaint her with the state of his heart. And she did not, for
+      confirming her intuition, need the two or three opportunities she took of
+      listening at the keyhole. What in the course of those informal audiences
+      did surprise her&mdash;so much indeed that she could hardly believe her
+      ear&mdash;was that it was possible for a woman not to love the Duke. Her
+      jealousy of &ldquo;that Miss Dobson&rdquo; was for a while swallowed up in her pity
+      for him. What she had borne so cheerfully for herself she could not bear
+      for her hero. She wished she had not happened to listen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And this morning, while she knelt swaying and spreading over &ldquo;his&rdquo;
+       doorstep, her blue eyes added certain tears to be scrubbed away in the
+      general moisture of the stone. Rising, she dried her hands in her apron,
+      and dried her eyes with her hands. Lest her mother should see that she had
+      been crying, she loitered outside the door. Suddenly, her roving glance
+      changed to a stare of acute hostility. She knew well that the person
+      wandering towards her was&mdash;no, not &ldquo;that Miss Dobson,&rdquo; as she had for
+      the fraction of an instant supposed, but the next worst thing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It has been said that Melisande indoors was an evidently French maid. Out
+      of doors she was not less evidently Zuleika&rsquo;s. Not that she aped her
+      mistress. The resemblance had come by force of propinquity and devotion.
+      Nature had laid no basis for it. Not one point of form or colour had the
+      two women in common. It has been said that Zuleika was not strictly
+      beautiful. Melisande, like most Frenchwomen, was strictly plain. But in
+      expression and port, in her whole tournure, she had become, as every good
+      maid does, her mistress&rsquo; replica. The poise of her head, the boldness of
+      her regard and brilliance of her smile, the leisurely and swinging way in
+      which she walked, with a hand on the hip&mdash;all these things of hers
+      were Zuleika&rsquo;s too. She was no conqueror. None but the man to whom she was
+      betrothed&mdash;a waiter at the Cafe Tourtel, named Pelleas&mdash;had ever
+      paid court to her; nor was she covetous of other hearts. Yet she looked
+      victorious, and insatiable of victories, and &ldquo;terrible as an army with
+      banners.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      In the hand that was not on her hip she carried a letter. And on her
+      shoulders she had to bear the full burden of the hatred that Zuleika had
+      inspired in Katie. But this she did not know. She came glancing boldly,
+      leisurely, at the numbers on the front-doors.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Katie stepped back on to the doorstep, lest the inferiority of her stature
+      should mar the effect of her disdain.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good-day. Is it here that Duke D&rsquo;Orsay lives?&rdquo; asked Melisande, as nearly
+      accurate as a Gaul may be in such matters.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Duke of Dorset,&rdquo; said Katie with a cold and insular emphasis, &ldquo;lives
+      here.&rdquo; And &ldquo;You,&rdquo; she tried to convey with her eyes, &ldquo;you, for all your
+      smart black silk, are a hireling. I am Miss Batch. I happen to have a
+      hobby for housework. I have not been crying.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then please mount this to him at once,&rdquo; said Melisande, holding out the
+      letter. &ldquo;It is from Miss Dobson&rsquo;s part. Very express. I wait response.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are very ugly,&rdquo; Katie signalled with her eyes. &ldquo;I am very pretty. I
+      have the Oxfordshire complexion. And I play the piano.&rdquo; With her lips she
+      said merely, &ldquo;His Grace is not called before nine o&rsquo;clock.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But to-day you go wake him now&mdash;quick&mdash;is it not?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Quite out of the question,&rdquo; said Katie. &ldquo;If you care to leave that letter
+      here, I will see that it is placed on his Grace&rsquo;s breakfast-table, with
+      the morning&rsquo;s post.&rdquo; &ldquo;For the rest,&rdquo; added her eyes, &ldquo;Down with France!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I find you droll, but droll, my little one!&rdquo; cried Melisande.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Katie stepped back and shut the door in her face. &ldquo;Like a little Empress,&rdquo;
+       the Emperors commented.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Frenchwoman threw up her hands and apostrophised heaven. To this day
+      she believes that all the bonnes of Oxford are mad, but mad, and of a
+      madness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She stared at the door, at the pail and scrubbing-brush that had been shut
+      out with her, at the letter in her hand. She decided that she had better
+      drop the letter into the slit in the door and make report to Miss Dobson.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As the envelope fell through the slit to the door-mat, Katie made at
+      Melisande a grimace which, had not the panels been opaque, would have
+      astonished the Emperors. Resuming her dignity, she picked the thing up,
+      and, at arm&rsquo;s length, examined it. It was inscribed in pencil. Katie&rsquo;s
+      lips curled at sight of the large, audacious handwriting. But it is
+      probable that whatever kind of handwriting Zuleika might have had would
+      have been just the kind that Katie would have expected.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fingering the envelope, she wondered what the wretched woman had to say.
+      It occurred to her that the kettle was simmering on the hob in the
+      kitchen, and that she might easily steam open the envelope and master its
+      contents. However, her doing this would have in no way affected the course
+      of the tragedy. And so the gods (being to-day in a strictly artistic mood)
+      prompted her to mind her own business.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Laying the Duke&rsquo;s table for breakfast, she made as usual a neat
+      rectangular pile of the letters that had come for him by post. Zuleika&rsquo;s
+      letter she threw down askew. That luxury she allowed herself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And he, when he saw the letter, allowed himself the luxury of leaving it
+      unopened awhile. Whatever its purport, he knew it could but minister to
+      his happy malice. A few hours ago, with what shame and dread it would have
+      stricken him! Now it was a dainty to be dallied with.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His eyes rested on the black tin boxes that contained his robes of the
+      Garter. Hateful had been the sight of them in the watches of the night,
+      when he thought he had worn those robes for the last time. But now&mdash;!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He opened Zuleika&rsquo;s letter. It did not disappoint him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;DEAR DUKE,&mdash;DO, DO forgive me. I am beyond words ashamed of the
+      silly tomboyish thing I did last night. Of course it was no worse than
+      that, but an awful fear haunts me that you MAY have thought I acted in
+      anger at the idea of your breaking your promise to me. Well, it is quite
+      true I had been hurt and angry when you hinted at doing that, but the
+      moment I left you I saw that you had been only in fun, and I enjoyed the
+      joke against myself, though I thought it was rather too bad of you. And
+      then, as a sort of revenge, but almost before I knew what I was doing, I
+      played that IDIOTIC practical joke on you. I have been MISERABLE ever
+      since. DO come round as early as possible and tell me I am forgiven. But
+      before you tell me that, please lecture me till I cry&mdash;though indeed
+      I have been crying half through the night. And then if you want to be VERY
+      horrid you may tease me for being so slow to see a joke. And then you
+      might take me to see some of the Colleges and things before we go on to
+      lunch at The MacQuern&rsquo;s? Forgive pencil and scrawl. Am sitting up in bed
+      to write.&mdash;Your sincere friend,
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Z. D.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;P.S.&mdash;Please burn this.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At that final injunction, the Duke abandoned himself to his mirth. &ldquo;Please
+      burn this.&rdquo; Poor dear young woman, how modest she was in the glare of her
+      diplomacy! Why there was nothing, not one phrase, to compromise her in the
+      eyes of a coroner&rsquo;s jury!... Seriously, she had good reason to be proud of
+      her letter. For the purpose in view it couldn&rsquo;t have been better done.
+      That was what made it so touchingly absurd. He put himself in her
+      position. He pictured himself as her, &ldquo;sitting up in bed,&rdquo; pencil in hand,
+      to explain away, to soothe, to clinch and bind... Yes, if he had happened
+      to be some other man&mdash;one whom her insult might have angered without
+      giving love its death-blow, and one who could be frightened out of not
+      keeping his word&mdash;this letter would have been capital.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He helped himself to some more marmalade, and poured out another cup of
+      coffee. Nothing is more thrilling, thought he, than to be treated as a
+      cully by the person you hold in the hollow of your hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But within this great irony lay (to be glided over) another irony. He knew
+      well in what mood Zuleika had done what she had done to him last night;
+      yet he preferred to accept her explanation of it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Officially, then, he acquitted her of anything worse than tomboyishness.
+      But this verdict for his own convenience implied no mercy to the culprit.
+      The sole point for him was how to administer her punishment the most
+      poignantly. Just how should he word his letter?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He rose from his chair, and &ldquo;Dear Miss Dobson&mdash;no, MY dear Miss
+      Dobson,&rdquo; he murmured, pacing the room, &ldquo;I am so very sorry I cannot come
+      to see you: I have to attend two lectures this morning. By contrast with
+      this weariness, it will be the more delightful to meet you at The
+      MacQuern&rsquo;s. I want to see as much as I can of you to-day, because to-night
+      there is the Bump Supper, and to-morrow morning, alas! I must motor to
+      Windsor for this wretched Investiture. Meanwhile, how can you ask to be
+      forgiven when there is nothing whatever to forgive? It seems to me that
+      mine, not yours, is the form of humour that needs explanation. My proposal
+      to die for you was made in as playful a spirit as my proposal to marry
+      you. And it is really for me to ask forgiveness of you. One thing
+      especially,&rdquo; he murmured, fingering in his waistcoat-pocket the ear-rings
+      she had given him, &ldquo;pricks my conscience. I do feel that I ought not to
+      have let you give me these two pearls&mdash;at any rate, not the one which
+      went into premature mourning for me. As I have no means of deciding which
+      of the two this one is, I enclose them both, with the hope that the pretty
+      difference between them will in time reappear&rdquo;... Or words to that
+      effect... Stay! why not add to the joy of contriving that effect the
+      greater joy of watching it? Why send Zuleika a letter? He would obey her
+      summons. He would speed to her side. He snatched up a hat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In this haste, however, he detected a certain lack of dignity. He steadied
+      himself, and went slowly to the mirror. There he adjusted his hat with
+      care, and regarded himself very seriously, very sternly, from various
+      angles, like a man invited to paint his own portrait for the Uffizi. He
+      must be worthy of himself. It was well that Zuleika should be chastened.
+      Great was her sin. Out of life and death she had fashioned toys for her
+      vanity. But his joy must be in vindication of what was noble, not in
+      making suffer what was vile. Yesterday he had been her puppet, her
+      Jumping-Jack; to-day it was as avenging angel that he would appear before
+      her. The gods had mocked him who was now their minister. Their minister?
+      Their master, as being once more master of himself. It was they who had
+      plotted his undoing. Because they loved him they were fain that he should
+      die young. The Dobson woman was but their agent, their cat&rsquo;s-paw. By her
+      they had all but got him. Not quite! And now, to teach them, through her,
+      a lesson they would not soon forget, he would go forth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Shaking with laughter, the gods leaned over the thunder-clouds to watch
+      him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He went forth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On the well-whitened doorstep he was confronted by a small boy in uniform
+      bearing a telegram.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Duke of Dorset?&rdquo; asked the small boy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Opening the envelope, the Duke saw that the message, with which was a
+      prepaid form for reply, had been handed in at the Tankerton post-office.
+      It ran thus:
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+     Deeply regret inform your grace last night
+     two black owls came and perched on battlements
+     remained there through night hooting
+     at dawn flew away none knows whither
+     awaiting instructions            Jellings
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      The Duke&rsquo;s face, though it grew white, moved not one muscle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Somewhat shamed now, the gods ceased from laughing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Duke looked from the telegram to the boy. &ldquo;Have you a pencil?&rdquo; he
+      asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, my Lord,&rdquo; said the boy, producing a stump of pencil.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Holding the prepaid form against the door, the Duke wrote:
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+     Jellings Tankerton Hall
+     Prepare vault for funeral Monday
+
+                              Dorset
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      His handwriting was as firmly and minutely beautiful as ever. Only in that
+      he forgot there was nothing to pay did he belie his calm. &ldquo;Here,&rdquo; he said
+      to the boy, &ldquo;is a shilling; and you may keep the change.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you, my Lord,&rdquo; said the boy, and went his way, as happy as a
+      postman.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0017" id="link2H_4_0017">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XV
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Humphrey Greddon, in the Duke&rsquo;s place, would have taken a pinch of snuff.
+      But he could not have made that gesture with a finer air than the Duke
+      gave to its modern equivalent. In the art of taking and lighting a
+      cigarette, there was one man who had no rival in Europe. This time he
+      outdid even himself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah,&rdquo; you say, &ldquo;but &lsquo;pluck&rsquo; is one thing, endurance another. A man who
+      doesn&rsquo;t reel on receipt of his death-warrant may yet break down when he
+      has had time to think it over. How did the Duke acquit himself when he
+      came to the end of his cigarette? And by the way, how was it that after he
+      had read the telegram you didn&rsquo;t give him again an hour&rsquo;s grace?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      In a way, you have a perfect right to ask both those questions. But their
+      very pertinence shows that you think I might omit things that matter.
+      Please don&rsquo;t interrupt me again. Am <i>I</i> writing this history, or are
+      you?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Though the news that he must die was a yet sharper douche, as you have
+      suggested, than the douche inflicted by Zuleika, it did at least leave
+      unscathed the Duke&rsquo;s pride. The gods can make a man ridiculous through a
+      woman, but they cannot make him ridiculous when they deal him a blow
+      direct. The very greatness of their power makes them, in that respect,
+      impotent. They had decreed that the Duke should die, and they had told him
+      so. There was nothing to demean him in that. True, he had just measured
+      himself against them. But there was no shame in being gravelled. The
+      peripety was according to the best rules of tragic art. The whole thing
+      was in the grand manner.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Thus I felt that there were no indelicacy, this time, in watching him.
+      Just as &ldquo;pluck&rdquo; comes of breeding, so is endurance especially an attribute
+      of the artist. Because he can stand outside himself, and (if there be
+      nothing ignoble in them) take a pleasure in his own sufferings, the artist
+      has a huge advantage over you and me. The Duke, so soon as Zuleika&rsquo;s spell
+      was broken, had become himself again&mdash;a highly self-conscious artist
+      in life. And now, standing pensive on the doorstep, he was almost enviable
+      in his great affliction.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Through the wreaths of smoke which, as they came from his lips, hung in
+      the sultry air as they would have hung in a closed room, he gazed up at
+      the steadfast thunder-clouds. How nobly they had been massed for him! One
+      of them, a particularly large and dark one, might with advantage, he
+      thought, have been placed a little further to the left. He made a gesture
+      to that effect. Instantly the cloud rolled into position. The gods were
+      painfully anxious, now, to humour him in trifles. His behaviour in the
+      great emergency had so impressed them at a distance that they rather
+      dreaded meeting him anon at close quarters. They rather wished they had
+      not uncaged, last night, the two black owls. Too late. What they had done
+      they had done.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That faint monotonous sound in the stillness of the night&mdash;the Duke
+      remembered it now. What he had thought to be only his fancy had been his
+      death-knell, wafted to him along uncharted waves of ether, from the
+      battlements of Tankerton. It had ceased at daybreak. He wondered now that
+      he had not guessed its meaning. And he was glad that he had not. He was
+      thankful for the peace that had been granted to him, the joyous arrogance
+      in which he had gone to bed and got up for breakfast. He valued these
+      mercies the more for the great tragic irony that came of them. Aye, and he
+      was inclined to blame the gods for not having kept him still longer in the
+      dark and so made the irony still more awful. Why had they not caused the
+      telegram to be delayed in transmission? They ought to have let him go and
+      riddle Zuleika with his scorn and his indifference. They ought to have let
+      him hurl through her his defiance of them. Art aside, they need not have
+      grudged him that excursion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He could not, he told himself, face Zuleika now. As artist, he saw that
+      there was irony enough left over to make the meeting a fine one. As
+      theologian, he did not hold her responsible for his destiny. But as a man,
+      after what she had done to him last night, and before what he had to do
+      for her to-day, he would not go out of his way to meet her. Of course, he
+      would not actually avoid her. To seem to run away from her were beneath
+      his dignity. But, if he did meet her, what in heaven&rsquo;s name should he say
+      to her? He remembered his promise to lunch with The MacQuern, and
+      shuddered. She would be there. Death, as he had said, cancelled all
+      engagements. A very simple way out of the difficulty would be to go
+      straight to the river. No, that would be like running away. It couldn&rsquo;t be
+      done.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hardly had he rejected the notion when he had a glimpse of a female figure
+      coming quickly round the corner&mdash;a glimpse that sent him walking
+      quickly away, across the road, towards Turl Street, blushing violently.
+      Had she seen him? he asked himself. And had she seen that he saw her? He
+      heard her running after him. He did not look round, he quickened his pace.
+      She was gaining on him. Involuntarily, he ran&mdash;ran like a hare, and,
+      at the corner of Turl Street, rose like a trout, saw the pavement rise at
+      him, and fell, with a bang, prone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Let it be said at once that in this matter the gods were absolutely
+      blameless. It is true they had decreed that a piece of orange-peel should
+      be thrown down this morning at the corner of Turl Street. But the Master
+      of Balliol, not the Duke, was the person they had destined to slip on it.
+      You must not imagine that they think out and appoint everything that is to
+      befall us, down to the smallest detail. Generally, they just draw a sort
+      of broad outline, and leave us to fill it in according to our taste. Thus,
+      in the matters of which this book is record, it was they who made the
+      Warden invite his grand-daughter to Oxford, and invite the Duke to meet
+      her on the evening of her arrival. And it was they who prompted the Duke
+      to die for her on the following (Tuesday) afternoon. They had intended
+      that he should execute his resolve after, or before, the boat-race of that
+      evening. But an oversight upset this plan. They had forgotten on Monday
+      night to uncage the two black owls; and so it was necessary that the
+      Duke&rsquo;s death should be postponed. They accordingly prompted Zuleika to
+      save him. For the rest, they let the tragedy run its own course&mdash;merely
+      putting in a felicitous touch here and there, or vetoing a superfluity,
+      such as that Katie should open Zuleika&rsquo;s letter. It was no part of their
+      scheme that the Duke should mistake Melisande for her mistress, or that he
+      should run away from her, and they were genuinely sorry when he, instead
+      of the Master of Balliol, came to grief over the orange-peel.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Them, however, the Duke cursed as he fell; them again as he raised himself
+      on one elbow, giddy and sore; and when he found that the woman bending
+      over him was not she whom he dreaded, but her innocent maid, it was
+      against them that he almost foamed at the mouth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Monsieur le Duc has done himself harm&mdash;no?&rdquo; panted Melisande. &ldquo;Here
+      is a letter from Miss Dobson&rsquo;s part. She say to me &lsquo;Give it him with your
+      own hand.&rsquo;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Duke received the letter and, sitting upright, tore it to shreds, thus
+      confirming a suspicion which Melisande had conceived at the moment when he
+      took to his heels, that all English noblemen are mad, but mad, and of a
+      madness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nom de Dieu,&rdquo; she cried, wringing her hands, &ldquo;what shall I tell to
+      Mademoiselle?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell her&mdash;&rdquo; the Duke choked back a phrase of which the memory would
+      have shamed his last hours. &ldquo;Tell her,&rdquo; he substituted, &ldquo;that you have
+      seen Marius sitting among the ruins of Carthage,&rdquo; and limped quickly away
+      down the Turl.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Both his hands had been abraded by the fall. He tended them angrily with
+      his handkerchief. Mr. Druce, the chemist, had anon the privilege of
+      bathing and plastering them, also of balming and binding the right knee
+      and the left shin. &ldquo;Might have been a very nasty accident, your Grace,&rdquo; he
+      said. &ldquo;It was,&rdquo; said the Duke. Mr. Druce concurred.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Nevertheless, Mr. Druce&rsquo;s remark sank deep. The Duke thought it quite
+      likely that the gods had intended the accident to be fatal, and that only
+      by his own skill and lightness in falling had he escaped the ignominy of
+      dying in full flight from a lady&rsquo;s-maid. He had not, you see, lost all
+      sense of free-will. While Mr. Druce put the finishing touches to his shin,
+      &ldquo;I am utterly purposed,&rdquo; he said to himself, &ldquo;that for this death of mine
+      I will choose my own manner and my own&mdash;well, not &lsquo;time&rsquo; exactly, but
+      whatever moment within my brief span of life shall seem aptest to me.
+      Unberufen,&rdquo; he added, lightly tapping Mr. Druce&rsquo;s counter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The sight of some bottles of Cold Mixture on that hospitable board
+      reminded him of a painful fact. In the clash of the morning&rsquo;s excitements,
+      he had hardly felt the gross ailment that was on him. He became fully
+      conscious of it now, and there leapt in him a hideous doubt: had he
+      escaped a violent death only to succumb to &ldquo;natural causes&rdquo;? He had never
+      hitherto had anything the matter with him, and thus he belonged to the
+      worst, the most apprehensive, class of patients. He knew that a cold, were
+      it neglected, might turn malignant; and he had a vision of himself gripped
+      suddenly in the street by internal agonies&mdash;a sympathetic crowd, an
+      ambulance, his darkened bedroom; local doctor making hopelessly wrong
+      diagnosis; eminent specialists served up hot by special train, commending
+      local doctor&rsquo;s treatment, but shaking their heads and refusing to say more
+      than &ldquo;He has youth on his side&rdquo;; a slight rally at sunset; the end. All
+      this flashed through his mind. He quailed. There was not a moment to lose.
+      He frankly confessed to Mr. Druce that he had a cold.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Druce, trying to insinuate by his manner that this fact had not been
+      obvious, suggested the Mixture&mdash;a teaspoonful every two hours. &ldquo;Give
+      me some now, please, at once,&rdquo; said the Duke.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He felt magically better for the draught. He handled the little glass
+      lovingly, and eyed the bottle. &ldquo;Why not two teaspoonfuls every hour?&rdquo; he
+      suggested, with an eagerness almost dipsomaniacal. But Mr. Druce was
+      respectfully firm against that. The Duke yielded. He fancied, indeed, that
+      the gods had meant him to die of an overdose.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Still, he had a craving for more. Few though his hours were, he hoped the
+      next two would pass quickly. And, though he knew Mr. Druce could be
+      trusted to send the bottle round to his rooms immediately, he preferred to
+      carry it away with him. He slipped it into the breast-pocket of his coat,
+      almost heedless of the slight extrusion it made there.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Just as he was about to cross the High again, on his way home, a butcher&rsquo;s
+      cart dashed down the slope, recklessly driven. He stepped well back on the
+      pavement, and smiled a sardonic smile. He looked to right and to left,
+      carefully gauging the traffic. Some time elapsed before he deemed the road
+      clear enough for transit.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Safely across, he encountered a figure that seemed to loom up out of the
+      dim past. Oover! Was it but yesternight that Oover dined with him? With
+      the sensation of a man groping among archives, he began to apologise to
+      the Rhodes Scholar for having left him so abruptly at the Junta. Then,
+      presto!&mdash;as though those musty archives were changed to a crisp
+      morning paper agog with terrific head-lines&mdash;he remembered the awful
+      resolve of Oover, and of all young Oxford.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course,&rdquo; he asked, with a lightness that hardly hid his dread of the
+      answer, &ldquo;you have dismissed the notion you were toying with when I left
+      you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Oover&rsquo;s face, like his nature, was as sensitive as it was massive, and it
+      instantly expressed his pain at the doubt cast on his high seriousness.
+      &ldquo;Duke,&rdquo; he asked, &ldquo;d&rsquo;you take me for a skunk?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Without pretending to be quite sure what a skunk is,&rdquo; said the Duke, &ldquo;I
+      take you to be all that it isn&rsquo;t. And the high esteem in which I hold you
+      is the measure for me of the loss that your death would be to America and
+      to Oxford.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Oover blushed. &ldquo;Duke&rdquo; he said &ldquo;that&rsquo;s a bully testimonial. But don&rsquo;t
+      worry. America can turn out millions just like me, and Oxford can have as
+      many of them as she can hold. On the other hand, how many of YOU can be
+      turned out, as per sample, in England? Yet you choose to destroy yourself.
+      You avail yourself of the Unwritten Law. And you&rsquo;re right, Sir. Love
+      transcends all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But does it? What if I told you I had changed my mind?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then, Duke,&rdquo; said Oover, slowly, &ldquo;I should believe that all those yarns I
+      used to hear about the British aristocracy were true, after all. I should
+      aver that you were not a white man. Leading us on like that, and then&mdash;Say,
+      Duke! Are you going to die to-day, or not?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As a matter of fact, I am, but&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Shake!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Oover wrung the Duke&rsquo;s hand, and was passing on. &ldquo;Stay!&rdquo; he was adjured.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sorry, unable. It&rsquo;s just turning eleven o&rsquo;clock, and I&rsquo;ve a lecture.
+      While life lasts, I&rsquo;m bound to respect Rhodes&rsquo; intentions.&rdquo; The
+      conscientious Scholar hurried away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Duke wandered down the High, taking counsel with himself. He was
+      ashamed of having so utterly forgotten the mischief he had wrought at
+      large. At dawn he had vowed to undo it. Undo it he must. But the task was
+      not a simple one now. If he could say &ldquo;Behold, I take back my word. I
+      spurn Miss Dobson, and embrace life,&rdquo; it was possible that his example
+      would suffice. But now that he could only say &ldquo;Behold, I spurn Miss
+      Dobson, and will not die for her, but I am going to commit suicide, all
+      the same,&rdquo; it was clear that his words would carry very little force.
+      Also, he saw with pain that they placed him in a somewhat ludicrous
+      position. His end, as designed yesterday, had a large and simple grandeur.
+      So had his recantation of it. But this new compromise between the two
+      things had a fumbled, a feeble, an ignoble look. It seemed to combine all
+      the disadvantages of both courses. It stained his honour without
+      prolonging his life. Surely, this was a high price to pay for snubbing
+      Zuleika... Yes, he must revert without more ado to his first scheme. He
+      must die in the manner that he had blazoned forth. And he must do it with
+      a good grace, none knowing he was not glad; else the action lost all
+      dignity. True, this was no way to be a saviour. But only by not dying at
+      all could he have set a really potent example.... He remembered the look
+      that had come into Oover&rsquo;s eyes just now at the notion of his unfaith.
+      Perhaps he would have been the mock, not the saviour, of Oxford. Better
+      dishonour than death, maybe. But, since die he must, he must die not
+      belittling or tarnishing the name of Tanville-Tankerton.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Within these bounds, however, he must put forth his full might to avert
+      the general catastrophe&mdash;and to punish Zuleika nearly well enough,
+      after all, by intercepting that vast nosegay from her outstretched hands
+      and her distended nostrils. There was no time to be lost, then. But he
+      wondered, as he paced the grand curve between St. Mary&rsquo;s and Magdalen
+      Bridge, just how was he to begin?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Down the flight of steps from Queen&rsquo;s came lounging an average
+      undergraduate.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Smith,&rdquo; said the Duke, &ldquo;a word with you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But my name is not Smith,&rdquo; said the young man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Generically it is,&rdquo; replied the Duke. &ldquo;You are Smith to all intents and
+      purposes. That, indeed, is why I address you. In making your acquaintance,
+      I make a thousand acquaintances. You are a short cut to knowledge. Tell
+      me, do you seriously think of drowning yourself this afternoon?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Rather,&rdquo; said the undergraduate.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A meiosis in common use, equivalent to &lsquo;Yes, assuredly,&rsquo;&rdquo; murmured the
+      Duke. &ldquo;And why,&rdquo; he then asked, &ldquo;do you mean to do this?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why? How can you ask? Why are YOU going to do it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Socratic manner is not a game at which two can play. Please answer my
+      question, to the best of your ability.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, because I can&rsquo;t live without her. Because I want to prove my love
+      for her. Because&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;One reason at a time please,&rdquo; said the Duke, holding up his hand. &ldquo;You
+      can&rsquo;t live without her? Then I am to assume that you look forward to
+      dying?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Rather.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are truly happy in that prospect?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. Rather.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, suppose I showed you two pieces of equally fine amber&mdash;a big
+      one and a little one. Which of these would you rather possess?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The big one, I suppose.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And this because it is better to have more than to have less of a good
+      thing?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Just so.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you consider happiness a good thing or a bad one?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A good one.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So that a man would rather have more than less of happiness?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Undoubtedly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then does it not seem to you that you would do well to postpone your
+      suicide indefinitely?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I have just said I can&rsquo;t live without her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have still more recently declared yourself truly happy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, but&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, be careful, Mr. Smith. Remember, this is a matter of life and death.
+      Try to do yourself justice. I have asked you&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But the undergraduate was walking away, not without a certain dignity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Duke felt that he had not handled his man skilfully. He remembered
+      that even Socrates, for all the popular charm of his mock-modesty and his
+      true geniality, had ceased after a while to be tolerable. Without such a
+      manner to grace his method, Socrates would have had a very brief time
+      indeed. The Duke recoiled from what he took to be another pitfall. He
+      almost smelt hemlock.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A party of four undergraduates abreast was approaching. How should he
+      address them? His choice wavered between the evangelic wistfulness of &ldquo;Are
+      you saved?&rdquo; and the breeziness of the recruiting sergeant&rsquo;s &ldquo;Come, you&rsquo;re
+      fine upstanding young fellows. Isn&rsquo;t it a pity,&rdquo; etc. Meanwhile, the
+      quartet had passed by.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Two other undergraduates approached. The Duke asked them simply as a
+      personal favour to himself not to throw away their lives. They said they
+      were very sorry, but in this particular matter they must please
+      themselves. In vain he pled. They admitted that but for his example they
+      would never have thought of dying. They wished they could show him their
+      gratitude in any way but the one which would rob them of it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Duke drifted further down the High, bespeaking every undergraduate he
+      met, leaving untried no argument, no inducement. For one man, whose name
+      he happened to know, he invented an urgent personal message from Miss
+      Dobson imploring him not to die on her account. On another man he offered
+      to settle by hasty codicil a sum of money sufficient to yield an annual
+      income of two thousand pounds&mdash;three thousand&mdash;any sum within
+      reason. With another he offered to walk, arm in arm, to Carfax and back
+      again. All to no avail.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He found himself in the precincts of Magdalen, preaching from the little
+      open-air pulpit there an impassioned sermon on the sacredness of human
+      life, and referring to Zuleika in terms which John Knox would have
+      hesitated to utter. As he piled up the invective, he noticed an ominous
+      restiveness in the congregation&mdash;murmurs, clenching of hands, dark
+      looks. He saw the pulpit as yet another trap laid for him by the gods. He
+      had walked straight into it: another moment, and he might be dragged down,
+      overwhelmed by numbers, torn limb from limb. All that was in him of
+      quelling power he put hastily into his eyes, and manoeuvred his tongue to
+      gentler discourse, deprecating his right to judge &ldquo;this lady,&rdquo; and merely
+      pointing the marvel, the awful though noble folly, of his resolve. He
+      ended on a note of quiet pathos. &ldquo;To-night I shall be among the shades.
+      There be not you, my brothers.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Good though the sermon was in style and sentiment, the flaw in its
+      reasoning was too patent for any converts to be made. As he walked out of
+      the quadrangle, the Duke felt the hopelessness of his cause. Still he
+      battled bravely for it up the High, waylaying, cajoling, commanding,
+      offering vast bribes. He carried his crusade into the Loder, and thence
+      into Vincent&rsquo;s, and out into the street again, eager, untiring,
+      unavailing: everywhere he found his precept checkmated by his example.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The sight of The MacQuern coming out top-speed from the Market, with a
+      large but inexpensive bunch of flowers, reminded him of the luncheon that
+      was to be. Never to throw over an engagement was for him, as we have seen,
+      a point of honour. But this particular engagement&mdash;hateful, when he
+      accepted it, by reason of his love&mdash;was now impossible for the reason
+      which had made him take so ignominiously to his heels this morning. He
+      curtly told the Scot not to expect him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is SHE not coming?&rdquo; gasped the Scot, with quick suspicion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; said the Duke, turning on his heel, &ldquo;she doesn&rsquo;t know that I shan&rsquo;t
+      be there. You may count on her.&rdquo; This he took to be the very truth, and he
+      was glad to have made of it a thrust at the man who had so uncouthly
+      asserted himself last night. He could not help smiling, though, at this
+      little resentment erect after the cataclysm that had swept away all else.
+      Then he smiled to think how uneasy Zuleika would be at his absence. What
+      agonies of suspense she must have had all this morning! He imagined her
+      silent at the luncheon, with a vacant gaze at the door, eating nothing at
+      all. And he became aware that he was rather hungry. He had done all he
+      could to save young Oxford. Now for some sandwiches! He went into the
+      Junta.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As he rang the dining-room bell, his eyes rested on the miniature of
+      Nellie O&rsquo;Mora. And the eyes of Nellie O&rsquo;Mora seemed to meet his in
+      reproach. Just as she may have gazed at Greddon when he cast her off, so
+      now did she gaze at him who a few hours ago had refused to honour her
+      memory.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Yes, and many other eyes than hers rebuked him. It was around the walls of
+      this room that hung those presentments of the Junta as focussed, year
+      after year, in a certain corner of Tom Quad, by Messrs. Hills and
+      Saunders. All around, the members of the little hierarchy, a hierarchy
+      ever changing in all but youth and a certain sternness of aspect that
+      comes at the moment of being immortalised, were gazing forth now with a
+      sternness beyond their wont. Not one of them but had in his day handed on
+      loyally the praise of Nellie O&rsquo;Mora, in the form their Founder had
+      ordained. And the Duke&rsquo;s revolt last night had so incensed them that they
+      would, if they could, have come down from their frames and walked straight
+      out of the club, in chronological order&mdash;first, the men of the
+      &lsquo;sixties, almost as near in time to Greddon as to the Duke, all so
+      gloriously be-whiskered and cravated, but how faded now, alas, by
+      exposure; and last of all in the procession and angrier perhaps than any
+      of them, the Duke himself&mdash;the Duke of a year ago, President and sole
+      Member.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But, as he gazed into the eyes of Nellie O&rsquo;Mora now, Dorset needed not for
+      penitence the reproaches of his past self or of his forerunners. &ldquo;Sweet
+      girl,&rdquo; he murmured, &ldquo;forgive me. I was mad. I was under the sway of a
+      deplorable infatuation. It is past. See,&rdquo; he murmured with a delicacy of
+      feeling that justified the untruth, &ldquo;I am come here for the express
+      purpose of undoing my impiety.&rdquo; And, turning to the club-waiter who at
+      this moment answered the bell, he said &ldquo;Bring me a glass of port, please,
+      Barrett.&rdquo; Of sandwiches he said nothing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At the word &ldquo;See&rdquo; he had stretched one hand towards Nellie; the other he
+      had laid on his heart, where it seemed to encounter some sort of hard
+      obstruction. This he vaguely fingered, wondering what it might be, while
+      he gave his order to Barrett. With a sudden cry he dipped his hand into
+      his breast-pocket and drew forth the bottle he had borne away from Mr.
+      Druce&rsquo;s. He snatched out his watch: one o&rsquo;clock!&mdash;fifteen minutes
+      overdue. Wildly he called the waiter back. &ldquo;A tea-spoon, quick! No port. A
+      wine-glass and a tea-spoon. And&mdash;for I don&rsquo;t mind telling you,
+      Barrett, that your mission is of an urgency beyond conjecture&mdash;take
+      lightning for your model. Go!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Agitation mastered him. He tried vainly to feel his pulse, well knowing
+      that if he found it he could deduce nothing from its action. He saw
+      himself haggard in the looking-glass. Would Barrett never come? &ldquo;Every two
+      hours&rdquo;&mdash;the directions were explicit. Had he delivered himself into
+      the gods&rsquo; hands? The eyes of Nellie O&rsquo;Mora were on him compassionately;
+      and all the eyes of his forerunners were on him in austere scorn: &ldquo;See,&rdquo;
+       they seemed to be saying, &ldquo;the chastisement of last night&rsquo;s blasphemy.&rdquo;
+       Violently, insistently, he rang the bell.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In rushed Barrett at last. From the tea-spoon into the wine-glass the Duke
+      poured the draught of salvation, and then, raising it aloft, he looked
+      around at his fore-runners and in a firm voice cried &ldquo;Gentlemen, I give
+      you Nellie O&rsquo;Mora, the fairest witch that ever was or will be.&rdquo; He drained
+      his glass, heaved the deep sigh of a double satisfaction, dismissed with a
+      glance the wondering Barrett, and sat down.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was glad to be able to face Nellie with a clear conscience. Her eyes
+      were not less sad now, but it seemed to him that their sadness came of a
+      knowledge that she would never see him again. She seemed to be saying to
+      him &ldquo;Had you lived in my day, it is you that I would have loved, not
+      Greddon.&rdquo; And he made silent answer, &ldquo;Had you lived in my day, I should
+      have been Dobson-proof.&rdquo; He realised, however, that to Zuleika he owed the
+      tenderness he now felt for Miss O&rsquo;Mora. It was Zuleika that had cured him
+      of his aseity. She it was that had made his heart a warm and negotiable
+      thing. Yes, and that was the final cruelty. To love and be loved&mdash;this,
+      he had come to know, was all that mattered. Yesterday, to love and die had
+      seemed felicity enough. Now he knew that the secret, the open secret, of
+      happiness was in mutual love&mdash;a state that needed not the fillip of
+      death. And he had to die without having ever lived. Admiration, homage,
+      fear, he had sown broadcast. The one woman who had loved him had turned to
+      stone because he loved her. Death would lose much of its sting for him if
+      there were somewhere in the world just one woman, however lowly, whose
+      heart would be broken by his dying. What a pity Nellie O&rsquo;Mora was not
+      really extant!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Suddenly he recalled certain words lightly spoken yesterday by Zuleika.
+      She had told him he was loved by the girl who waited on him&mdash;the
+      daughter of his landlady. Was this so? He had seen no sign of it, had
+      received no token of it. But, after all, how should he have seen a sign of
+      anything in one whom he had never consciously visualised? That she had
+      never thrust herself on his notice might mean merely that she had been
+      well brought-up. What likelier than that the daughter of Mrs. Batch, that
+      worthy soul, had been well brought up?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Here, at any rate, was the chance of a new element in his life, or rather
+      in his death. Here, possibly, was a maiden to mourn him. He would lunch in
+      his rooms.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      With a farewell look at Nellie&rsquo;s miniature, he took the medicine-bottle
+      from the table, and went quickly out. The heavens had grown steadily
+      darker and darker, the air more sulphurous and baleful. And the High had a
+      strangely woebegone look, being all forsaken by youth, in this hour of
+      luncheon. Even so would its look be all to-morrow, thought the Duke, and
+      for many morrows. Well he had done what he could. He was free now to
+      brighten a little his own last hours. He hastened on, eager to see the
+      landlady&rsquo;s daughter. He wondered what she was like, and whether she really
+      loved him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As he threw open the door of his sitting-room, he was aware of a rustle, a
+      rush, a cry. In another instant, he was aware of Zuleika Dobson at his
+      feet, at his knees, clasping him to her, sobbing, laughing, sobbing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0018" id="link2H_4_0018">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XVI
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      For what happened a few moments later you must not blame him. Some measure
+      of force was the only way out of an impossible situation. It was in vain
+      that he commanded the young lady to let go: she did but cling the closer.
+      It was in vain that he tried to disentangle himself of her by standing
+      first on one foot, then on the other, and veering sharply on his heel: she
+      did but sway as though hinged to him. He had no choice but to grasp her by
+      the wrists, cast her aside, and step clear of her into the room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her hat, gauzily basking with a pair of long white gloves on one of his
+      arm-chairs, proclaimed that she had come to stay.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Nor did she rise. Propped on one elbow, with heaving bosom and parted
+      lips, she seemed to be trying to realise what had been done to her.
+      Through her undried tears her eyes shone up to him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He asked: &ldquo;To what am I indebted for this visit?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, say that again!&rdquo; she murmured. &ldquo;Your voice is music.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He repeated his question.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Music!&rdquo; she said dreamily; and such is the force of habit that &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t,&rdquo;
+       she added, &ldquo;know anything about music, really. But I know what I like.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Had you not better get up from the floor?&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;The door is open,
+      and any one who passed might see you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Softly she stroked the carpet with the palms of her hands. &ldquo;Happy carpet!&rdquo;
+       she crooned. &ldquo;Aye, happy the very women that wove the threads that are
+      trod by the feet of my beloved master. But hark! he bids his slave rise
+      and stand before him!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Just after she had risen, a figure appeared in the doorway.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I beg pardon, your Grace; Mother wants to know, will you be lunching in?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said the Duke. &ldquo;I will ring when I am ready.&rdquo; And it dawned on him
+      that this girl, who perhaps loved him, was, according to all known
+      standards, extraordinarily pretty.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will&mdash;&rdquo; she hesitated, &ldquo;will Miss Dobson be&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I shall be alone.&rdquo; And there was in the girl&rsquo;s parting
+      half-glance at Zuleika that which told him he was truly loved, and made
+      him the more impatient of his offensive and accursed visitor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You want to be rid of me?&rdquo; asked Zuleika, when the girl was gone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have no wish to be rude; but&mdash;since you force me to say it&mdash;yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then take me,&rdquo; she cried, throwing back her arms, &ldquo;and throw me out of
+      the window.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He smiled coldly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You think I don&rsquo;t mean it? You think I would struggle? Try me.&rdquo; She let
+      herself droop sideways, in an attitude limp and portable. &ldquo;Try me,&rdquo; she
+      repeated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All this is very well conceived, no doubt,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;and well executed.
+      But it happens to be otiose.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do you mean?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I mean you may set your mind at rest. I am not going to back out of my
+      promise.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Zuleika flushed. &ldquo;You are cruel. I would give the world and all not to
+      have written you that hateful letter. Forget it, forget it, for pity&rsquo;s
+      sake!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Duke looked searchingly at her. &ldquo;You mean that you now wish to release
+      me from my promise?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Release you? As if you were ever bound! Don&rsquo;t torture me!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He wondered what deep game she was playing. Very real, though, her anguish
+      seemed; and, if real it was, then&mdash;he stared, he gasped&mdash;there
+      could be but one explanation. He put it to her. &ldquo;You love me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;With all my soul.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His heart leapt. If she spoke truth, then indeed vengeance was his! But
+      &ldquo;What proof have I?&rdquo; he asked her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Proof? Have men absolutely NO intuition? If you need proof, produce it.
+      Where are my ear-rings?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your ear-rings? Why?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Impatiently she pointed to two white pearls that fastened the front of her
+      blouse. &ldquo;These are your studs. It was from them I had the great first hint
+      this morning.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Black and pink, were they not, when you took them?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course. And then I forgot that I had them. When I undressed, they must
+      have rolled on to the carpet. Melisande found them this morning when she
+      was making the room ready for me to dress. That was just after she came
+      back from bringing you my first letter. I was bewildered. I doubted. Might
+      not the pearls have gone back to their natural state simply through being
+      yours no more? That is why I wrote again to you, my own darling&mdash;a
+      frantic little questioning letter. When I heard how you had torn it up, I
+      knew, I knew that the pearls had not mocked me. I telescoped my toilet and
+      came rushing round to you. How many hours have I been waiting for you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Duke had drawn her ear-rings from his waistcoat pocket, and was
+      contemplating them in the palm of his hand. Blanched, both of them, yes.
+      He laid them on the table. &ldquo;Take them,&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; she shuddered. &ldquo;I could never forget that once they were both
+      black.&rdquo; She flung them into the fender. &ldquo;Oh John,&rdquo; she cried, turning to
+      him and falling again to her knees, &ldquo;I do so want to forget what I have
+      been. I want to atone. You think you can drive me out of your life. You
+      cannot, darling&mdash;since you won&rsquo;t kill me. Always I shall follow you
+      on my knees, thus.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He looked down at her over his folded arms,
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am not going to back out of my promise,&rdquo; he repeated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She stopped her ears.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      With a stern joy he unfolded his arms, took some papers from his
+      breast-pocket, and, selecting one of them, handed it to her. It was the
+      telegram sent by his steward.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She read it. With a stern joy he watched her reading it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Wild-eyed, she looked up from it to him, tried to speak, and swerved down
+      senseless.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He had not foreseen this. &ldquo;Help!&rdquo; he vaguely cried&mdash;was she not a
+      fellow-creature?&mdash;and rushed blindly out to his bedroom, whence he
+      returned, a moment later, with the water-jug. He dipped his hand, and
+      sprinkled the upturned face (Dew-drops on a white rose? But some other,
+      sharper analogy hovered to him). He dipped and sprinkled. The water-beads
+      broke, mingled&mdash;rivulets now. He dipped and flung, then caught the
+      horrible analogy and rebounded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was at this moment that Zuleika opened her eyes. &ldquo;Where am I?&rdquo; She
+      weakly raised herself on one elbow; and the suspension of the Duke&rsquo;s
+      hatred would have been repealed simultaneously with that of her
+      consciousness, had it not already been repealed by the analogy. She put a
+      hand to her face, then looked at the wet palm wonderingly, looked at the
+      Duke, saw the water-jug beside him. She, too, it seemed, had caught the
+      analogy; for with a wan smile she said &ldquo;We are quits now, John, aren&rsquo;t
+      we?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Her poor little jest drew to the Duke&rsquo;s face no answering smile, did but
+      make hotter the blush there. The wave of her returning memory swept on&mdash;swept
+      up to her with a roar the instant past. &ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; she cried, staggering to her
+      feet, &ldquo;the owls, the owls!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Vengeance was his, and &ldquo;Yes, there,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;is the ineluctable hard
+      fact you wake to. The owls have hooted. The gods have spoken. This day
+      your wish is to be fulfilled.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The owls have hooted. The gods have spoken. This day&mdash;oh, it must
+      not be, John! Heaven have mercy on me!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The unerring owls have hooted. The dispiteous and humorous gods have
+      spoken. Miss Dobson, it has to be. And let me remind you,&rdquo; he added, with
+      a glance at his watch, &ldquo;that you ought not to keep The MacQuern waiting
+      for luncheon.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is unworthy of you,&rdquo; she said. There was in her eyes a look that
+      made the words sound as if they had been spoken by a dumb animal.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have sent him an excuse?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I have forgotten him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is unworthy of you. After all, he is going to die for you, like the
+      rest of us. I am but one of a number, you know. Use your sense of
+      proportion.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If I do that,&rdquo; she said after a pause, &ldquo;you may not be pleased by the
+      issue. I may find that whereas yesterday I was great in my sinfulness, and
+      to-day am great in my love, you, in your hate of me, are small. I may find
+      that what I had taken to be a great indifference is nothing but a very
+      small hate... Ah, I have wounded you? Forgive me, a weak woman, talking at
+      random in her wretchedness. Oh John, John, if I thought you small, my love
+      would but take on the crown of pity. Don&rsquo;t forbid me to call you John. I
+      looked you up in Debrett while I was waiting for you. That seemed to bring
+      you nearer to me. So many other names you have, too. I remember you told
+      me them all yesterday, here in this room&mdash;not twenty-four hours ago.
+      Hours? Years!&rdquo; She laughed hysterically. &ldquo;John, don&rsquo;t you see why I won&rsquo;t
+      stop talking? It&rsquo;s because I dare not think.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yonder in Balliol,&rdquo; he suavely said, &ldquo;you will find the matter of my
+      death easier to forget than here.&rdquo; He took her hat and gloves from the
+      arm-chair, and held them carefully out to her; but she did not take them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I give you three minutes,&rdquo; he told her. &ldquo;Two minutes, that is, in which
+      to make yourself tidy before the mirror. A third in which to say good-bye
+      and be outside the front-door.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If I refuse?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will not.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If I do?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall send for a policeman.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She looked well at him. &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; she slowly said, &ldquo;I think you would do
+      that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She took her things from him, and laid them by the mirror. With a high
+      hand she quelled the excesses of her hair&mdash;some of the curls still
+      agleam with water&mdash;and knowingly poised and pinned her hat. Then,
+      after a few swift touches and passes at neck and waist, she took her
+      gloves and, wheeling round to him, &ldquo;There!&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;I have been quick.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Admirably,&rdquo; he allowed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Quick in more than meets the eye, John. Spiritually quick. You saw me
+      putting on my hat; you did not see love taking on the crown of pity, and
+      me bonneting her with it, tripping her up and trampling the life out of
+      her. Oh, a most cold-blooded business, John! Had to be done, though. No
+      other way out. So I just used my sense of proportion, as you rashly bade
+      me, and then hardened my heart at sight of you as you are. One of a
+      number? Yes, and a quite unlovable unit. So I am all right again. And now,
+      where is Balliol? Far from here?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; he answered, choking a little, as might a card-player who, having
+      been dealt a splendid hand, and having played it with flawless skill, has
+      yet&mdash;damn it!&mdash;lost the odd trick. &ldquo;Balliol is quite near. At
+      the end of this street in fact. I can show it to you from the front-door.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Yes, he had controlled himself. But this, he furiously felt, did not make
+      him look the less a fool. What ought he to have SAID? He prayed, as he
+      followed the victorious young woman downstairs, that l&rsquo;esprit de
+      l&rsquo;escalier might befall him. Alas, it did not.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By the way,&rdquo; she said, when he had shown her where Balliol lay, &ldquo;have you
+      told anybody that you aren&rsquo;t dying just for me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; he answered, &ldquo;I have preferred not to.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then officially, as it were, and in the eyes of the world, you die for
+      me? Then all&rsquo;s well that ends well. Shall we say good-bye here? I shall be
+      on the Judas Barge; but I suppose there will be a crush, as yesterday?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sure to be. There always is on the last night of the Eights, you know.
+      Good-bye.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good-bye, little John&mdash;small John,&rdquo; she cried across her shoulder,
+      having the last word.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0019" id="link2H_4_0019">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XVII
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      He might not have grudged her the last word, had she properly needed it.
+      Its utter superfluity&mdash;the perfection of her victory without it&mdash;was
+      what galled him. Yes, she had outflanked him, taken him unawares, and he
+      had fired not one shot. Esprit de l&rsquo;escalier&mdash;it was as he went
+      upstairs that he saw how he might yet have snatched from her, if not the
+      victory, the palm. Of course he ought to have laughed aloud&mdash;&ldquo;Capital,
+      capital! You really do deserve to fool me. But ah, yours is a love that
+      can&rsquo;t be dissembled. Never was man by maiden loved more ardently than I by
+      you, my poor girl, at this moment.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And stay!&mdash;what if she really HAD been but pretending to have killed
+      her love? He paused on the threshold of his room. The sudden doubt made
+      his lost chance the more sickening. Yet was the doubt dear to him ... What
+      likelier, after all, than that she had been pretending? She had already
+      twitted him with his lack of intuition. He had not seen that she loved him
+      when she certainly did love him. He had needed the pearls&rsquo; demonstration
+      of that.&mdash;The pearls! THEY would betray her. He darted to the fender,
+      and one of them he espied there instantly&mdash;white? A rather flushed
+      white, certainly. For the other he had to peer down. There it lay, not
+      very distinct on the hearth&rsquo;s black-leading.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He turned away. He blamed himself for not dismissing from his mind the
+      hussy he had dismissed from his room. Oh for an ounce of civet and a few
+      poppies! The water-jug stood as a reminder of the hateful visit and of...
+      He took it hastily away into his bedroom. There he washed his hands. The
+      fact that he had touched Zuleika gave to this ablution a symbolism that
+      made it the more refreshing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Civet, poppies? Was there not, at his call, a sweeter perfume, a stronger
+      anodyne? He rang the bell, almost caressingly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His heart beat at sound of the clinking and rattling of the tray borne up
+      the stairs. She was coming, the girl who loved him, the girl whose heart
+      would be broken when he died. Yet, when the tray appeared in the doorway,
+      and she behind it, the tray took precedence of her in his soul not less
+      than in his sight. Twice, after an arduous morning, had his luncheon been
+      postponed, and the coming of it now made intolerable the pangs of his
+      hunger.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Also, while the girl laid the table-cloth, it occurred to him how flimsy,
+      after all, was the evidence that she loved him. Suppose she did nothing of
+      the kind! At the Junta, he had foreseen no difficulty in asking her. Now
+      he found himself a prey to embarrassment. He wondered why. He had not
+      failed in flow of gracious words to Nellie O&rsquo;Mora. Well, a miniature by
+      Hoppner was one thing, a landlady&rsquo;s live daughter was another. At any
+      rate, he must prime himself with food. He wished Mrs. Batch had sent up
+      something more calorific than cold salmon. He asked her daughter what was
+      to follow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There&rsquo;s a pigeon-pie, your Grace.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Cold? Then please ask your mother to heat it in the oven&mdash;quickly.
+      Anything after that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A custard pudding, your Grace.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Cold? Let this, too, be heated. And bring up a bottle of champagne,
+      please; and&mdash;and a bottle of port.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His was a head that had always hitherto defied the grape. But he thought
+      that to-day, by all he had gone through, by all the shocks he had
+      suffered, and the strains he had steeled himself to bear, as well as by
+      the actual malady that gripped him, he might perchance have been sapped
+      enough to experience by reaction that cordial glow of which he had now and
+      again seen symptoms in his fellows.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Nor was he altogether disappointed of this hope. As the meal progressed,
+      and the last of the champagne sparkled in his glass, certain things said
+      to him by Zuleika&mdash;certain implied criticisms that had rankled, yes&mdash;lost
+      their power to discommode him. He was able to smile at the impertinences
+      of an angry woman, the tantrums of a tenth-rate conjurer told to go away.
+      He felt he had perhaps acted harshly. With all her faults, she had adored
+      him. Yes, he had been arbitrary. There seemed to be a strain of brutality
+      in his nature. Poor Zuleika! He was glad for her that she had contrived to
+      master her infatuation... Enough for him that he was loved by this
+      exquisite meek girl who had served him at the feast. Anon, when he
+      summoned her to clear the things away, he would bid her tell him the tale
+      of her lowly passion. He poured a second glass of port, sipped it, quaffed
+      it, poured a third. The grey gloom of the weather did but, as he eyed the
+      bottle, heighten his sense of the rich sunshine so long ago imprisoned by
+      the vintner and now released to make glad his soul. Even so to be released
+      was the love pent for him in the heart of this sweet girl. Would that he
+      loved her in return!... Why not?
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+                             &ldquo;Prius insolentem
+                    Serva Briseis niveo colore
+                          Movit Achillem.&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      Nor were it gracious to invite an avowal of love and offer none in return.
+      Yet, yet, expansive though his mood was, he could not pretend to himself
+      that he was about to feel in this girl&rsquo;s presence anything but gratitude.
+      He might pretend to her? Deception were a very poor return indeed for all
+      her kindness. Besides, it might turn her head. Some small token of his
+      gratitude&mdash;some trinket by which to remember him&mdash;was all that
+      he could allow himself to offer... What trinket? Would she like to have
+      one of his scarf-pins? Studs? Still more abs&mdash;Ah! he had it, he
+      literally and most providentially had it, there, in the fender: a pair of
+      ear-rings!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He plucked the pink pearl and the black from where they lay, and rang the
+      bell.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His sense of dramatic propriety needed that the girl should, before he
+      addressed her, perform her task of clearing the table. If she had it to
+      perform after telling her love, and after receiving his gift and his
+      farewell, the bathos would be distressing for them both.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But, while he watched her at her task, he did wish she would be a little
+      quicker. For the glow in him seemed to be cooling momently. He wished he
+      had had more than three glasses from the crusted bottle which she was
+      putting away into the chiffonier. Down, doubt! Down, sense of disparity!
+      The moment was at hand. Would he let it slip? Now she was folding up the
+      table-cloth, now she was going.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stay!&rdquo; he uttered. &ldquo;I have something to say to you.&rdquo; The girl turned to
+      him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He forced his eyes to meet hers. &ldquo;I understand,&rdquo; he said in a constrained
+      voice, &ldquo;that you regard me with sentiments of something more than esteem.&mdash;Is
+      this so?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The girl had stepped quickly back, and her face was scarlet.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nay,&rdquo; he said, having to go through with it now, &ldquo;there is no cause for
+      embarrassment. And I am sure you will acquit me of wanton curiosity. Is it
+      a fact that you&mdash;love me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She tried to speak, could not. But she nodded her head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Duke, much relieved, came nearer to her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is your name?&rdquo; he asked gently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Katie,&rdquo; she was able to gasp.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, Katie, how long have you loved me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ever since,&rdquo; she faltered, &ldquo;ever since you came to engage the rooms.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are not, of course, given to idolising any tenant of your mother&rsquo;s?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;May I boast myself the first possessor of your heart?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo; She had become very pale now, and was trembling painfully.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And may I assume that your love for me has been entirely
+      disinterested?... You do not catch my meaning? I will put my question in
+      another way. In loving me, you never supposed me likely to return your
+      love?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The girl looked up at him quickly, but at once her eyelids fluttered down
+      again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come, come!&rdquo; said the Duke. &ldquo;My question is a plain one. Did you ever for
+      an instant suppose, Katie, that I might come to love you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; she said in a whisper; &ldquo;I never dared to hope that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Precisely,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;You never imagined that you had anything to gain by
+      your affection. You were not contriving a trap for me. You were upheld by
+      no hope of becoming a young Duchess, with more frocks than you could wear
+      and more dross than you could scatter. I am glad. I am touched. You are
+      the first woman that has loved me in that way. Or rather,&rdquo; he muttered,
+      &ldquo;the first but one. And she... Answer me,&rdquo; he said, standing over the
+      girl, and speaking with a great intensity. &ldquo;If I were to tell you that I
+      loved you, would you cease to love me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh your Grace!&rdquo; cried the girl. &ldquo;Why no! I never dared&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Enough!&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;The catechism is ended. I have something which I
+      should like to give you. Are your ears pierced?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, your Grace.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then, Katie, honour me by accepting this present.&rdquo; So saying, he placed
+      in the girl&rsquo;s hand the black pearl and the pink. The sight of them
+      banished for a moment all other emotions in their recipient. She forgot
+      herself. &ldquo;Lor!&rdquo; she said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hope you will wear them always for my sake,&rdquo; said the Duke.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She had expressed herself in the monosyllable. No words came to her lips,
+      but to her eyes many tears, through which the pearls were visible. They
+      whirled in her bewildered brain as a token that she was loved&mdash;loved
+      by HIM, though but yesterday he had loved another. It was all so sudden,
+      so beautiful. You might have knocked her down (she says so to this day)
+      with a feather. Seeing her agitation, the Duke pointed to a chair, bade
+      her be seated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her mind was cleared by the new posture. Suspicion crept into it, followed
+      by alarm. She looked at the ear-rings, then up at the Duke.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; said he, misinterpreting the question in her eyes, &ldquo;they are real
+      pearls.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It isn&rsquo;t that,&rdquo; she quavered, &ldquo;it is&mdash;it is&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That they were given to me by Miss Dobson?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, they were, were they? Then&rdquo;&mdash;Katie rose, throwing the pearls on
+      the floor&mdash;&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll have nothing to do with them. I hate her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So do I,&rdquo; said the Duke, in a burst of confidence. &ldquo;No, I don&rsquo;t,&rdquo; he
+      added hastily. &ldquo;Please forget that I said that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It occurred to Katie that Miss Dobson would be ill-pleased that the pearls
+      should pass to her. She picked them up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Only&mdash;only&mdash;&rdquo; again her doubts beset her and she looked from
+      the pearls to the Duke.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Speak on,&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh you aren&rsquo;t playing with me, are you? You don&rsquo;t mean me harm, do you? I
+      have been well brought up. I have been warned against things. And it seems
+      so strange, what you have said to me. You are a Duke, and I&mdash;I am
+      only&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is the privilege of nobility to condescend.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, yes,&rdquo; she cried. &ldquo;I see. Oh I was wicked to doubt you. And love
+      levels all, doesn&rsquo;t it? love and the Board school. Our stations are far
+      apart, but I&rsquo;ve been educated far above mine. I&rsquo;ve learnt more than most
+      real ladies have. I passed the Seventh Standard when I was only just
+      fourteen. I was considered one of the sharpest girls in the school. And
+      I&rsquo;ve gone on learning since then,&rdquo; she continued eagerly. &ldquo;I utilise all
+      my spare moments. I&rsquo;ve read twenty-seven of the Hundred Best Books. I
+      collect ferns. I play the piano, whenever...&rdquo; She broke off, for she
+      remembered that her music was always interrupted by the ringing of the
+      Duke&rsquo;s bell and a polite request that it should cease.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am glad to hear of these accomplishments. They do you great credit, I
+      am sure. But&mdash;well, I do not quite see why you enumerate them just
+      now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It isn&rsquo;t that I am vain,&rdquo; she pleaded. &ldquo;I only mentioned them because ...
+      oh, don&rsquo;t you see? If I&rsquo;m not ignorant, I shan&rsquo;t disgrace you. People
+      won&rsquo;t be so able to say you&rsquo;ve been and thrown yourself away.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thrown myself away? What do you mean?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, they&rsquo;ll make all sorts of objections, I know. They&rsquo;ll all be against
+      me, and&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For heaven&rsquo;s sake, explain yourself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your aunt, she looked a very proud lady&mdash;very high and hard. I
+      thought so when she came here last term. But you&rsquo;re of age. You&rsquo;re your
+      own master. Oh, I trust you; you&rsquo;ll stand by me. If you love me really you
+      won&rsquo;t listen to them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Love you? I? Are you mad?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Each stared at the other, utterly bewildered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The girl was the first to break the silence. Her voice came in a whisper.
+      &ldquo;You&rsquo;ve not been playing a joke on me? You meant what you said, didn&rsquo;t
+      you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What have I said?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You said you loved me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You must be dreaming.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&rsquo;m not. Here are the ear-rings you gave me.&rdquo; She pinched them as
+      material proof. &ldquo;You said you loved me just before you gave me them. You
+      know you did. And if I thought you&rsquo;d been laughing at me all the time&mdash;I&rsquo;d&mdash;I&rsquo;d&rdquo;&mdash;a
+      sob choked her voice&mdash;&ldquo;I&rsquo;d throw them in your face!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You must not speak to me in that manner,&rdquo; said the Duke coldly. &ldquo;And let
+      me warn you that this attempt to trap me and intimidate me&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The girl had flung the ear-rings at his face. She had missed her mark. But
+      this did not extenuate the outrageous gesture. He pointed to the door.
+      &ldquo;Go!&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t try that on!&rdquo; she laughed. &ldquo;I shan&rsquo;t go&mdash;not unless you drag
+      me out. And if you do that, I&rsquo;ll raise the house. I&rsquo;ll have in the
+      neighbours. I&rsquo;ll tell them all what you&rsquo;ve done, and&mdash;&rdquo; But defiance
+      melted in the hot shame of humiliation. &ldquo;Oh, you coward!&rdquo; she gasped. &ldquo;You
+      coward!&rdquo; She caught her apron to her face and, swaying against the wall,
+      sobbed piteously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Unaccustomed to love-affairs, the Duke could not sail lightly over a flood
+      of woman&rsquo;s tears. He was filled with pity for the poor quivering figure
+      against the wall. How should he soothe her? Mechanically he picked up the
+      two pearls from the carpet, and crossed to her side. He touched her on the
+      shoulder. She shuddered away from him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t,&rdquo; he said gently. &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t cry. I can&rsquo;t bear it. I have been stupid
+      and thoughtless. What did you say your name was? &lsquo;Katie,&rsquo; to be sure.
+      Well, Katie, I want to beg your pardon. I expressed myself badly. I was
+      unhappy and lonely, and I saw in you a means of comfort. I snatched at
+      you, Katie, as at a straw. And then, I suppose, I must have said something
+      which made you think I loved you. I almost wish I did. I don&rsquo;t wonder you
+      threw the ear-rings at me. I&mdash;I almost wish they had hit me... You
+      see, I have quite forgiven you. Now do you forgive me. You will not refuse
+      now to wear the ear-rings. I gave them to you as a keepsake. Wear them
+      always in memory of me. For you will never see me again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The girl had ceased from crying, and her anger had spent itself in sobs.
+      She was gazing at him woebegone but composed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where are you going?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You must not ask that,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;Enough that my wings are spread.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you going because of ME?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not in the least. Indeed, your devotion is one of the things which make
+      bitter my departure. And yet&mdash;I am glad you love me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t go,&rdquo; she faltered. He came nearer to her, and this time she did not
+      shrink from him. &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t you find the rooms comfortable?&rdquo; she asked, gazing
+      up at him. &ldquo;Have you ever had any complaint to make about the attendance?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; said the Duke, &ldquo;the attendance has always been quite satisfactory. I
+      have never felt that so keenly as I do to-day.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then why are you leaving? Why are you breaking my heart?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Suffice it that I cannot do otherwise. Henceforth you will see me no
+      more. But I doubt not that in the cultivation of my memory you will find
+      some sort of lugubrious satisfaction. See! here are the ear-rings. If you
+      like, I will put them in with my own hands.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She held up her face side-ways. Into the lobe of her left ear he
+      insinuated the hook of the black pearl. On the cheek upturned to him there
+      were still traces of tears; the eyelashes were still spangled. For all her
+      blondness, they were quite dark, these glistening eyelashes. He had an
+      impulse, which he put from him. &ldquo;Now the other ear,&rdquo; he said. The girl
+      turned her head. Soon the pink pearl was in its place. Yet the girl did
+      not move. She seemed to be waiting. Nor did the Duke himself seem to be
+      quite satisfied. He let his fingers dally with the pearl. Anon, with a
+      sigh, he withdrew them. The girl looked up. Their eyes met. He looked away
+      from her. He turned away from her. &ldquo;You may kiss my hand,&rdquo; he murmured,
+      extending it towards her. After a pause, the warm pressure of her lips was
+      laid on it. He sighed, but did not look round. Another pause, a longer
+      pause, and then the clatter and clink of the outgoing tray.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0020" id="link2H_4_0020">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XVIII
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Her actual offspring does not suffice a very motherly woman. Such a woman
+      was Mrs. Batch. Had she been blest with a dozen children, she must yet
+      have regarded herself as also a mother to whatever two young gentlemen
+      were lodging under her roof. Childless but for Katie and Clarence, she had
+      for her successive pairs of tenants a truly vast fund of maternal feeling
+      to draw on. Nor were the drafts made in secret. To every gentleman, from
+      the outset, she proclaimed the relation in which she would stand to him.
+      Moreover, always she needed a strong filial sense in return: this was only
+      fair.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Because the Duke was an orphan, even more than because he was a Duke, her
+      heart had with a special rush gone out to him when he and Mr. Noaks became
+      her tenants. But, perhaps because he had never known a mother, he was
+      evidently quite incapable of conceiving either Mrs. Batch as his mother or
+      himself as her son. Indeed, there was that in his manner, in his look,
+      which made her falter, for once, in exposition of her theory&mdash;made
+      her postpone the matter to some more favourable time. That time never
+      came, somehow. Still, her solicitude for him, her pride in him, her sense
+      that he was a great credit to her, rather waxed than waned. He was more to
+      her (such are the vagaries of the maternal instinct) than Katie or Mr.
+      Noaks: he was as much as Clarence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was, therefore, a deeply agitated woman who now came heaving up into
+      the Duke&rsquo;s presence. His Grace was &ldquo;giving notice&rdquo;? She was sure she
+      begged his pardon for coming up so sudden. But the news was that sudden.
+      Hadn&rsquo;t her girl made a mistake, maybe? Girls were so vague-like nowadays.
+      She was sure it was most kind of him to give those handsome ear-rings. But
+      the thought of him going off so unexpected&mdash;middle of term, too&mdash;with
+      never a why or a but! Well!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In some such welter of homely phrase (how foreign to these classic pages!)
+      did Mrs. Batch utter her pain. The Duke answered her tersely but kindly.
+      He apologised for going so abruptly, and said he would be very happy to
+      write for her future use a testimonial to the excellence of her rooms and
+      of her cooking; and with it he would give her a cheque not only for the
+      full term&rsquo;s rent, and for his board since the beginning of term, but also
+      for such board as he would have been likely to have in the term&rsquo;s
+      remainder. He asked her to present her accounts forthwith.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He occupied the few minutes of her absence by writing the testimonial. It
+      had shaped itself in his mind as a short ode in Doric Greek. But, for the
+      benefit of Mrs. Batch, he chose to do a rough equivalent in English.
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+     TO AN UNDERGRADUATE NEEDING
+     ROOMS IN OXFORD
+
+     (A Sonnet in Oxfordshire Dialect)
+
+     Zeek w&rsquo;ere thee will in t&rsquo;Univursity,
+     Lad, thee&rsquo;ll not vind nor bread nor bed that
+          matches
+     Them as thee&rsquo;ll vind, roight zure, at Mrs.
+          Batch&rsquo;s...
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      I do not quote the poem in extenso, because, frankly, I think it was one
+      of his least happily-inspired works. His was not a Muse that could with a
+      good grace doff the grand manner. Also, his command of the Oxfordshire
+      dialect seems to me based less on study than on conjecture. In fact, I do
+      not place the poem higher than among the curiosities of literature. It has
+      extrinsic value, however, as illustrating the Duke&rsquo;s thoughtfulness for
+      others in the last hours of his life. And to Mrs. Batch the MS., framed
+      and glazed in her hall, is an asset beyond price (witness her recent
+      refusal of Mr. Pierpont Morgan&rsquo;s sensational bid for it).
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This MS. she received together with the Duke&rsquo;s cheque. The presentation
+      was made some twenty minutes after she had laid her accounts before him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lavish in giving large sums of his own accord, he was apt to be
+      circumspect in the matter of small payments. Such is ever the way of
+      opulent men. Nor do I see that we have a right to sneer at them for it. We
+      cannot deny that their existence is a temptation to us. It is in our
+      fallen nature to want to get something out of them; and, as we think in
+      small sums (heaven knows), it is of small sums that they are careful.
+      Absurd to suppose they really care about halfpence. It must, therefore, be
+      about us that they care; and we ought to be grateful to them for the pains
+      they are at to keep us guiltless. I do not suggest that Mrs. Batch had at
+      any point overcharged the Duke; but how was he to know that she had not
+      done so, except by checking the items, as was his wont? The reductions
+      that he made, here and there, did not in all amount to three-and-sixpence.
+      I do not say they were just. But I do say that his motive for making them,
+      and his satisfaction at having made them, were rather beautiful than
+      otherwise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Having struck an average of Mrs. Batch&rsquo;s weekly charges, and a similar
+      average of his own reductions, he had a basis on which to reckon his board
+      for the rest of the term. This amount he added to Mrs. Batch&rsquo;s amended
+      total, plus the full term&rsquo;s rent, and accordingly drew a cheque on the
+      local bank where he had an account. Mrs. Batch said she would bring up a
+      stamped receipt directly; but this the Duke waived, saying that the cashed
+      cheque itself would be a sufficient receipt. Accordingly, he reduced by
+      one penny the amount written on the cheque. Remembering to initial the
+      correction, he remembered also, with a melancholy smile, that to-morrow
+      the cheque would not be negotiable. Handing it, and the sonnet, to Mrs.
+      Batch, he bade her cash it before the bank closed. &ldquo;And,&rdquo; he said, with a
+      glance at his watch, &ldquo;you have no time to lose. It is a quarter to four.&rdquo;
+       Only two hours and a quarter before the final races! How quickly the sands
+      were running out!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Batch paused on the threshold, wanted to know if she could &ldquo;help with
+      the packing.&rdquo; The Duke replied that he was taking nothing with him: his
+      various things would be sent for, packed, and removed, within a few days.
+      No, he did not want her to order a cab. He was going to walk. And
+      &ldquo;Good-bye, Mrs. Batch,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;For legal reasons with which I won&rsquo;t
+      burden you, you really must cash that cheque at once.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He sat down in solitude; and there crept over him a mood of deep
+      depression... Almost two hours and a quarter before the final races! What
+      on earth should he do in the meantime? He seemed to have done all that
+      there was for him to do. His executors would do the rest. He had no
+      farewell-letters to write. He had no friends with whom he was on terms of
+      valediction. There was nothing at all for him to do. He stared blankly out
+      of the window, at the greyness and blackness of the sky. What a day! What
+      a climate! Why did any sane person live in England? He felt positively
+      suicidal.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His dully vagrant eye lighted on the bottle of Cold Mixture. He ought to
+      have dosed himself a full hour ago. Well, he didn&rsquo;t care.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Had Zuleika noticed the bottle? he idly wondered. Probably not. She would
+      have made some sprightly reference to it before she went.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Since there was nothing to do but sit and think, he wished he could
+      recapture that mood in which at luncheon he had been able to see Zuleika
+      as an object for pity. Never, till to-day, had he seen things otherwise
+      than they were. Nor had he ever needed to. Never, till last night, had
+      there been in his life anything he needed to forget. That woman! As if it
+      really mattered what she thought of him. He despised himself for wishing
+      to forget she despised him. But the wish was the measure of the need. He
+      eyed the chiffonier. Should he again solicit the grape?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Reluctantly he uncorked the crusted bottle, and filled a glass. Was he
+      come to this? He sighed and sipped, quaffed and sighed. The spell of the
+      old stored sunshine seemed not to work, this time. He could not cease from
+      plucking at the net of ignominies in which his soul lay enmeshed. Would
+      that he had died yesterday, escaping how much!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Not for an instant did he flinch from the mere fact of dying to-day. Since
+      he was not immortal, as he had supposed, it were as well he should die now
+      as fifty years hence. Better, indeed. To die &ldquo;untimely,&rdquo; as men called it,
+      was the timeliest of all deaths for one who had carved his youth to
+      greatness. What perfection could he, Dorset, achieve beyond what was
+      already his? Future years could but stale, if not actually mar, that
+      perfection. Yes, it was lucky to perish leaving much to the imagination of
+      posterity. Dear posterity was of a sentimental, not a realistic, habit.
+      She always imagined the dead young hero prancing gloriously up to the
+      Psalmist&rsquo;s limit a young hero still; and it was the sense of her vast loss
+      that kept his memory green. Byron!&mdash;he would be all forgotten to-day
+      if he had lived to be a florid old gentleman with iron-grey whiskers,
+      writing very long, very able letters to &ldquo;The Times&rdquo; about the Repeal of
+      the Corn Laws. Yes, Byron would have been that. It was indicated in him.
+      He would have been an old gentleman exacerbated by Queen Victoria&rsquo;s
+      invincible prejudice against him, her brusque refusal to &ldquo;entertain&rdquo; Lord
+      John Russell&rsquo;s timid nomination of him for a post in the Government...
+      Shelley would have been a poet to the last. But how dull, how very dull,
+      would have been the poetry of his middle age!&mdash;a great unreadable
+      mass interposed between him and us... Did Byron, mused the Duke, know what
+      was to be at Missolonghi? Did he know that he was to die in service of the
+      Greeks whom he despised? Byron might not have minded that. But what if the
+      Greeks had told him, in so many words, that they despised HIM? How would
+      he have felt then? Would he have been content with his potations of
+      barley-water?... The Duke replenished his glass, hoping the spell might
+      work yet.... Perhaps, had Byron not been a dandy&mdash;but ah, had he not
+      been in his soul a dandy there would have been no Byron worth mentioning.
+      And it was because he guarded not his dandyism against this and that
+      irrelevant passion, sexual or political, that he cut so annoyingly
+      incomplete a figure. He was absurd in his politics, vulgar in his loves.
+      Only in himself, at the times when he stood haughtily aloof, was he
+      impressive. Nature, fashioning him, had fashioned also a pedestal for him
+      to stand and brood on, to pose and sing on. Off that pedestal he was
+      lost.... &ldquo;The idol has come sliding down from its pedestal&rdquo;&mdash;the Duke
+      remembered these words spoken yesterday by Zuleika. Yes, at the moment
+      when he slid down, he, too, was lost. For him, master-dandy, the common
+      arena was no place. What had he to do with love? He was an utter fool at
+      it. Byron had at least had some fun out of it. What fun had HE had? Last
+      night, he had forgotten to kiss Zuleika when he held her by the wrists.
+      To-day it had been as much as he could do to let poor little Katie kiss
+      his hand. Better be vulgar with Byron than a noodle with Dorset! he
+      bitterly reflected... Still, noodledom was nearer than vulgarity to
+      dandyism. It was a less flagrant lapse. And he had over Byron this further
+      advantage: his noodledom was not a matter of common knowledge; whereas
+      Byron&rsquo;s vulgarity had ever needed to be in the glare of the footlights of
+      Europe. The world would say of him that he laid down his life for a woman.
+      Deplorable somersault? But nothing evident save this in his whole life was
+      faulty... The one other thing that might be carped at&mdash;the partisan
+      speech he made in the Lords&mdash;had exquisitely justified itself by its
+      result. For it was as a Knight of the Garter that he had set the perfect
+      seal on his dandyism. Yes, he reflected, it was on the day when first he
+      donned the most grandiose of all costumes, and wore it grandlier than ever
+      yet in history had it been worn, than ever would it be worn hereafter,
+      flaunting the robes with a grace unparalleled and inimitable, and lending,
+      as it were, to the very insignia a glory beyond their own, that he once
+      and for all fulfilled himself, doer of that which he had been sent into
+      the world to do.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And there floated into his mind a desire, vague at first, soon definite,
+      imperious, irresistible, to see himself once more, before he died, indued
+      in the fulness of his glory and his might.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Nothing hindered. There was yet a whole hour before he need start for the
+      river. His eyes dilated, somewhat as might those of a child about to
+      &ldquo;dress up&rdquo; for a charade; and already, in his impatience, he had undone
+      his neck-tie.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One after another, he unlocked and threw open the black tin boxes,
+      snatching out greedily their great good splendours of crimson and white
+      and royal blue and gold. You wonder he was not appalled by the task of
+      essaying unaided a toilet so extensive and so intricate? You wondered even
+      when you heard that he was wont at Oxford to make without help his toilet
+      of every day. Well, the true dandy is always capable of such high
+      independence. He is craftsman as well as artist. And, though any unaided
+      Knight but he with whom we are here concerned would belike have doddered
+      hopeless in that labyrinth of hooks and buckles which underlies the
+      visible glory of a Knight &ldquo;arraied full and proper,&rdquo; Dorset threaded his
+      way featly and without pause. He had mastered his first excitement. In his
+      swiftness was no haste. His procedure had the ease and inevitability of a
+      natural phenomenon, and was most like to the coming of a rainbow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Crimson-doubleted, blue-ribanded, white-trunk-hosed, he stooped to
+      understrap his left knee with that strap of velvet round which sparkles
+      the proud gay motto of the Order. He affixed to his breast the octoradiant
+      star, so much larger and more lustrous than any actual star in heaven.
+      Round his neck he slung that long daedal chain wherefrom St. George,
+      slaying the Dragon, dangles. He bowed his shoulders to assume that vast
+      mantle of blue velvet, so voluminous, so enveloping, that, despite the
+      Cross of St. George blazing on it, and the shoulder-knots like two great
+      white tropical flowers planted on it, we seem to know from it in what
+      manner of mantle Elijah prophesied. Across his breast he knotted this
+      mantle&rsquo;s two cords of gleaming bullion, one tassel a due trifle higher
+      than its fellow. All these things being done, he moved away from the
+      mirror, and drew on a pair of white kid gloves. Both of these being
+      buttoned, he plucked up certain folds of his mantle into the hollow of his
+      left arm, and with his right hand gave to his left hand that
+      ostrich-plumed and heron-plumed hat of black velvet in which a Knight of
+      the Garter is entitled to take his walks abroad. Then, with head erect,
+      and measured tread, he returned to the mirror.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      You are thinking, I know, of Mr. Sargent&rsquo;s famous portrait of him. Forget
+      it. Tankerton Hall is open to the public on Wednesdays. Go there, and in
+      the dining-hall stand to study well Sir Thomas Lawrence&rsquo;s portrait of the
+      eleventh Duke. Imagine a man some twenty years younger than he whom you
+      there behold, but having some such features and some such bearing, and
+      clad in just such robes. Sublimate the dignity of that bearing and of
+      those features, and you will then have seen the fourteenth Duke somewhat
+      as he stood reflected in the mirror of his room. Resist your impulse to
+      pass on to the painting which hangs next but two to Lawrence&rsquo;s. It
+      deserves, I know, all that you said about it when (at the very time of the
+      events in this chronicle) it was hanging in Burlington House. Marvellous,
+      I grant you, are those passes of the swirling brush by which the velvet of
+      the mantle is rendered&mdash;passes so light and seemingly so fortuitous,
+      yet, seen at the right distance, so absolute in their power to create an
+      illusion of the actual velvet. Sheen of white satin and silk, glint of
+      gold, glitter of diamonds&mdash;never were such things caught by surer
+      hand obedient to more voracious eye. Yes, all the splendid surface of
+      everything is there. Yet must you not look. The soul is not there. An
+      expensive, very new costume is there, but no evocation of the high antique
+      things it stands for; whereas by the Duke it was just these things that
+      were evoked to make an aura round him, a warm symbolic glow sharpening the
+      outlines of his own particular magnificence. Reflecting him, the mirror
+      reflected, in due subordination, the history of England. There is nothing
+      of that on Mr. Sargent&rsquo;s canvas. Obtruded instead is the astounding
+      slickness of Mr. Sargent&rsquo;s technique: not the sitter, but the painter, is
+      master here. Nay, though I hate to say it, there is in the portrayal of
+      the Duke&rsquo;s attitude and expression a hint of something like mockery&mdash;unintentional,
+      I am sure, but to a sensitive eye discernible. And&mdash;but it is clumsy
+      of me to be reminding you of the very picture I would have you forget.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Long stood the Duke gazing, immobile. One thing alone ruffled his deep
+      inward calm. This was the thought that he must presently put off from him
+      all his splendour, and be his normal self.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The shadow passed from his brow. He would go forth as he was. He would be
+      true to the motto he wore, and true to himself. A dandy he had lived. In
+      the full pomp and radiance of his dandyism he would die.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His soul rose from calm to triumph. A smile lit his face, and he held his
+      head higher than ever. He had brought nothing into this world and could
+      take nothing out of it? Well, what he loved best he could carry with him
+      to the very end; and in death they would not be divided.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The smile was still on his face as he passed out from his room. Down the
+      stairs he passed, and &ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; every stair creaked faintly, &ldquo;I ought to have
+      been marble!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And it did indeed seem that Mrs. Batch and Katie, who had hurried out into
+      the hall, were turned to some kind of stone at sight of the descending
+      apparition. A moment ago, Mrs. Batch had been hoping she might yet at the
+      last speak motherly words. A hopeless mute now! A moment ago, Katie&rsquo;s
+      eyelids had been red with much weeping. Even from them the colour suddenly
+      ebbed now. Dead-white her face was between the black pearl and the pink.
+      &ldquo;And this is the man of whom I dared once for an instant hope that he
+      loved me!&rdquo;&mdash;it was thus that the Duke, quite correctly, interpreted
+      her gaze.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      To her and to her mother he gave an inclusive bow as he swept slowly by.
+      Stone was the matron, and stone the maid.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stone, too, the Emperors over the way; and the more poignantly thereby was
+      the Duke a sight to anguish them, being the very incarnation of what
+      themselves had erst been, or tried to be. But in this bitterness they did
+      not forget their sorrow at his doom. They were in a mood to forgive him
+      the one fault they had ever found in him&mdash;his indifference to their
+      Katie. And now&mdash;o mirum mirorum&mdash;even this one fault was wiped
+      out.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For, stung by memory of a gibe lately cast at him by himself, the Duke had
+      paused and, impulsively looking back into the hall, had beckoned Katie to
+      him; and she had come (she knew not how) to him; and there, standing on
+      the doorstep whose whiteness was the symbol of her love, he&mdash;very
+      lightly, it is true, and on the upmost confines of the brow, but quite
+      perceptibly&mdash;had kissed her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0021" id="link2H_4_0021">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XIX
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      And now he had passed under the little arch between the eighth and the
+      ninth Emperor, rounded the Sheldonian, and been lost to sight of Katie,
+      whom, as he was equally glad and sorry he had kissed her, he was able to
+      dismiss from his mind.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the quadrangle of the Old Schools he glanced round at the familiar
+      labels, blue and gold, over the iron-studded doors,&mdash;Schola
+      Theologiae et Antiquae Philosophiae; Museum Arundelianum; Schola Musicae.
+      And Bibliotheca Bodleiana&mdash;he paused there, to feel for the last time
+      the vague thrill he had always felt at sight of the small and devious
+      portal that had lured to itself, and would always lure, so many scholars
+      from the ends of the earth, scholars famous and scholars obscure, scholars
+      polyglot and of the most diverse bents, but none of them not stirred in
+      heart somewhat on the found threshold of the treasure-house. &ldquo;How deep,
+      how perfect, the effect made here by refusal to make any effect
+      whatsoever!&rdquo; thought the Duke. Perhaps, after all... but no: one could lay
+      down no general rule. He flung his mantle a little wider from his breast,
+      and proceeded into Radcliffe Square.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Another farewell look he gave to the old vast horse-chestnut that is
+      called Bishop Heber&rsquo;s tree. Certainly, no: there was no general rule. With
+      its towering and bulging masses of verdure tricked out all over in their
+      annual finery of catkins, Bishop Heber&rsquo;s tree stood for the very type of
+      ingenuous ostentation. And who should dare cavil? who not be gladdened?
+      Yet awful, more than gladdening, was the effect that the tree made to-day.
+      Strangely pale was the verdure against the black sky; and the
+      multitudinous catkins had a look almost ghostly. The Duke remembered the
+      legend that every one of these fair white spires of blossom is the spirit
+      of some dead man who, having loved Oxford much and well, is suffered thus
+      to revisit her, for a brief while, year by year. And it pleased him to
+      doubt not that on one of the topmost branches, next Spring, his own spirit
+      would be.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, look!&rdquo; cried a young lady emerging with her brother and her aunt
+      through the gate of Brasenose.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For heaven&rsquo;s sake, Jessie, try to behave yourself,&rdquo; hissed her brother.
+      &ldquo;Aunt Mabel, for heaven&rsquo;s sake don&rsquo;t stare.&rdquo; He compelled the pair to walk
+      on with him. &ldquo;Jessie, if you look round over your shoulder... No, it is
+      NOT the Vice-Chancellor. It&rsquo;s Dorset, of Judas&mdash;the Duke of Dorset...
+      Why on earth shouldn&rsquo;t he?... No, it isn&rsquo;t odd in the least... No, I&rsquo;m NOT
+      losing my temper. Only, don&rsquo;t call me your dear boy... No, we will NOT
+      walk slowly so as to let him pass us... Jessie, if you look round...&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Poor fellow! However fond an undergraduate be of his womenfolk, at Oxford
+      they keep him in a painful state of tension: at any moment they may
+      somehow disgrace him. And if throughout the long day he shall have had the
+      added strain of guarding them from the knowledge that he is about to
+      commit suicide, a certain measure of irritability must be condoned.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Poor Jessie and Aunt Mabel! They were destined to remember that Harold had
+      been &ldquo;very peculiar&rdquo; all day. They had arrived in the morning, happy and
+      eager despite the menace of the sky, and&mdash;well, they were destined to
+      reproach themselves for having felt that Harold was &ldquo;really rather
+      impossible.&rdquo; Oh, if he had only confided in them! They could have reasoned
+      with him, saved him&mdash;surely they could have saved him! When he told
+      them that the &ldquo;First Division&rdquo; of the races was always very dull, and that
+      they had much better let him go to it alone,&mdash;when he told them that
+      it was always very rowdy, and that ladies were not supposed to be there&mdash;oh,
+      why had they not guessed and clung to him, and kept him away from the
+      river?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Well, here they were, walking on Harold&rsquo;s either side, blind to fate, and
+      only longing to look back at the gorgeous personage behind them. Aunt
+      Mabel had inwardly calculated that the velvet of the mantle alone could
+      not have cost less than four guineas a yard. One good look back, and she
+      would be able to calculate how many yards there were... She followed the
+      example of Lot&rsquo;s wife; and Jessie followed hers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well,&rdquo; said Harold. &ldquo;That settles it. I go alone.&rdquo; And he was gone
+      like an arrow, across the High, down Oriel Street.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The two women stood staring ruefully at each other.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pardon me,&rdquo; said the Duke, with a sweep of his plumed hat. &ldquo;I observe you
+      are stranded; and, if I read your thoughts aright, you are impugning the
+      courtesy of that young runagate. Neither of you, I am very sure, is as one
+      of those ladies who in Imperial Rome took a saucy pleasure in the
+      spectacle of death. Neither of you can have been warned by your escort
+      that you were on the way to see him die, of his own accord, in company
+      with many hundreds of other lads, myself included. Therefore, regard his
+      flight from you as an act not of unkindness, but of tardy compunction. The
+      hint you have had from him let me turn into a counsel. Go back, both of
+      you, to the place whence you came.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you SO much,&rdquo; said Aunt Mabel, with what she took to be great
+      presence of mind. &ldquo;MOST kind of you. We&rsquo;ll do JUST what you tell us. Come,
+      Jessie dear,&rdquo; and she hurried her niece away with her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Something in her manner of fixing him with her eye had made the Duke
+      suspect what was in her mind. Well, she would find out her mistake soon
+      enough, poor woman. He desired, however, that her mistake should be made
+      by no one else. He would give no more warnings.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Tragic it was for him, in Merton Street, to see among the crowd converging
+      to the meadows so many women, young and old, all imprescient, troubled by
+      nothing but the thunder that was in the air, that was on the brows of
+      their escorts. He knew not whether it was for their escorts or for them
+      that he felt the greater pity; and an added load for his heart was the
+      sense of his partial responsibility for what impended. But his lips were
+      sealed now. Why should he not enjoy the effect he was creating?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was with a measured tread, as yesterday with Zuleika, that he entered
+      the avenue of elms. The throng streamed past from behind him, parting
+      wide, and marvelling as it streamed. Under the pall of this evil evening
+      his splendour was the more inspiring. And, just as yesterday no man had
+      questioned his right to be with Zuleika, so to-day there was none to deem
+      him caparisoned too much. All the men felt at a glance that he, coming to
+      meet death thus, did no more than the right homage to Zuleika&mdash;aye,
+      and that he made them all partakers in his own glory, casting his great
+      mantle over all commorients. Reverence forbade them to do more than
+      glance. But the women with them were impelled by wonder to stare hard,
+      uttering sharp little cries that mingled with the cawing of the rooks
+      overhead. Thus did scores of men find themselves shamed like our friend
+      Harold. But this, you say, was no more than a just return for their
+      behaviour yesterday, when, in this very avenue, so many women were almost
+      crushed to death by them in their insensate eagerness to see Miss Dobson.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      To-day by scores of women it was calculated not only that the velvet of
+      the Duke&rsquo;s mantle could not have cost less than four guineas a yard, but
+      also that there must be quite twenty-five yards of it. Some of the fair
+      mathematicians had, in the course of the past fortnight, visited the Royal
+      Academy and seen there Mr. Sargent&rsquo;s portrait of the wearer, so that their
+      estimate now was but the endorsement of an estimate already made. Yet
+      their impression of the Duke was above all a spiritual one. The nobility
+      of his face and bearing was what most thrilled them as they went by; and
+      those of them who had heard the rumour that he was in love with that
+      frightfully flashy-looking creature, Zuleika Dobson, were more than ever
+      sure there wasn&rsquo;t a word of truth in it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As he neared the end of the avenue, the Duke was conscious of a thinning
+      in the procession on either side of him, and anon he was aware that not
+      one undergraduate was therein. And he knew at once&mdash;did not need to
+      look back to know&mdash;why this was. SHE was coming.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Yes, she had come into the avenue, her magnetism speeding before her,
+      insomuch that all along the way the men immediately ahead of her looked
+      round, beheld her, stood aside for her. With her walked The MacQuern, and
+      a little bodyguard of other blest acquaintances; and behind her swayed the
+      dense mass of the disorganised procession. And now the last rank between
+      her and the Duke was broken, and at the revealed vision of him she
+      faltered midway in some raillery she was addressing to The MacQuern. Her
+      eyes were fixed, her lips were parted, her tread had become stealthy. With
+      a brusque gesture of dismissal to the men beside her, she darted forward,
+      and lightly overtook the Duke just as he was turning towards the barges.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;May I?&rdquo; she whispered, smiling round into his face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His shoulder-knots just perceptibly rose.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There isn&rsquo;t a policeman in sight, John. You&rsquo;re at my mercy. No, no; I&rsquo;m
+      at yours. Tolerate me. You really do look quite wonderful. There, I won&rsquo;t
+      be so impertinent as to praise you. Only let me be with you. Will you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The shoulder-knots repeated their answer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You needn&rsquo;t listen to me; needn&rsquo;t look at me&mdash;unless you care to use
+      my eyes as mirrors. Only let me be seen with you. That&rsquo;s what I want. Not
+      that your society isn&rsquo;t a boon in itself, John. Oh, I&rsquo;ve been so bored
+      since I left you. The MacQuern is too, too dull, and so are his friends.
+      Oh, that meal with them in Balliol! As soon as I grew used to the thought
+      that they were going to die for me, I simply couldn&rsquo;t stand them. Poor
+      boys! it was as much as I could do not to tell them I wished them dead
+      already. Indeed, when they brought me down for the first races, I did
+      suggest that they might as well die now as later. Only they looked very
+      solemn and said it couldn&rsquo;t possibly be done till after the final races.
+      And oh, the tea with them! What have YOU been doing all the afternoon? Oh
+      John, after THEM, I could almost love you again. Why can&rsquo;t one fall in
+      love with a man&rsquo;s clothes? To think that all those splendid things you
+      have on are going to be spoilt&mdash;all for me. Nominally for me, that
+      is. It is very wonderful, John. I do appreciate it, really and truly,
+      though I know you think I don&rsquo;t. John, if it weren&rsquo;t mere spite you feel
+      for me&mdash;but it&rsquo;s no good talking about that. Come, let us be as
+      cheerful as we may be. Is this the Judas house-boat?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Judas barge,&rdquo; said the Duke, irritated by a mistake which but
+      yesterday had rather charmed him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As he followed his companion across the plank, there came dully from the
+      hills the first low growl of the pent storm. The sound struck for him a
+      strange contrast with the prattle he had perforce been listening to.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thunder,&rdquo; said Zuleika over her shoulder.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Evidently,&rdquo; he answered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Half-way up the stairs to the roof, she looked round. &ldquo;Aren&rsquo;t you coming?&rdquo;
+       she asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He shook his head, and pointed to the raft in front of the barge. She
+      quickly descended.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Forgive me,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;my gesture was not a summons. The raft is for
+      men.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do you want to do on it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To wait there till the races are over.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But&mdash;what do you mean? Aren&rsquo;t you coming up on to the roof at all?
+      Yesterday&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I see,&rdquo; said the Duke, unable to repress a smile. &ldquo;But to-day I am
+      not dressed for a flying-leap.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Zuleika put a finger to her lips. &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t talk so loud. Those women up
+      there will hear you. No one must ever know I knew what was going to
+      happen. What evidence should I have that I tried to prevent it? Only my
+      own unsupported word&mdash;and the world is always against a woman. So do
+      be careful. I&rsquo;ve thought it all out. The whole thing must be SPRUNG on me.
+      Don&rsquo;t look so horribly cynical... What was I saying? Oh yes; well, it
+      doesn&rsquo;t really matter. I had it fixed in my mind that you&mdash;but no, of
+      course, in that mantle you couldn&rsquo;t. But why not come up on the roof with
+      me meanwhile, and then afterwards make some excuse and&mdash;&rdquo; The rest of
+      her whisper was lost in another growl of thunder.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I would rather make my excuses forthwith,&rdquo; said the Duke. &ldquo;And, as the
+      races must be almost due now, I advise you to go straight up and secure a
+      place against the railing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It will look very odd, my going all alone into a crowd of people whom I
+      don&rsquo;t know. I&rsquo;m an unmarried girl. I do think you might&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good-bye,&rdquo; said the Duke.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Again Zuleika raised a warning finger.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good-bye, John,&rdquo; she whispered. &ldquo;See, I am still wearing your studs.
+      Good-bye. Don&rsquo;t forget to call my name in a loud voice. You promised.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And,&rdquo; she added, after a pause, &ldquo;remember this. I have loved but twice in
+      my life; and none but you have I loved. This, too: if you hadn&rsquo;t forced me
+      to kill my love, I would have died with you. And you know it is true.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo; It was true enough.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Courteously he watched her up the stairs.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As she reached the roof, she cried down to him from the throng, &ldquo;Then you
+      will wait down there to take me home afterwards?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He bowed silently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The raft was even more crowded than yesterday, but way was made for him by
+      Judasians past and present. He took his place in the centre of the front
+      row.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At his feet flowed the fateful river. From the various barges the last
+      punt-loads had been ferried across to the towing-path, and the last of the
+      men who were to follow the boats in their course had vanished towards the
+      starting-point. There remained, however, a fringe of lesser enthusiasts.
+      Their figures stood outlined sharply in that strange dark clearness which
+      immediately precedes a storm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The thunder rumbled around the hills, and now and again there was a faint
+      glare on the horizon.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Would Judas bump Magdalen? Opinion on the raft seemed to be divided. But
+      the sanguine spirits were in a majority.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If I were making a book on the event,&rdquo; said a middle-aged clergyman, with
+      that air of breezy emancipation which is so distressing to the laity, &ldquo;I&rsquo;d
+      bet two to one we bump.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You demean your cloth, sir,&rdquo; the Duke would have said, &ldquo;without cheating
+      its disabilities,&rdquo; had not his mouth been stopped by a loud and prolonged
+      thunder-clap.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the hush thereafter, came the puny sound of a gunshot. The boats were
+      starting. Would Judas bump Magdalen? Would Judas be head of the river?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Strange, thought the Duke, that for him, standing as he did on the peak of
+      dandyism, on the brink of eternity, this trivial question of boats could
+      have importance. And yet, and yet, for this it was that his heart was
+      beating. A few minutes hence, an end to victors and vanquished alike; and
+      yet...
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A sudden white vertical streak slid down the sky. Then there was a
+      consonance to split the drums of the world&rsquo;s ears, followed by a horrific
+      rattling as of actual artillery&mdash;tens of thousands of gun-carriages
+      simultaneously at the gallop, colliding, crashing, heeling over in the
+      blackness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then, and yet more awful, silence; the little earth cowering voiceless
+      under the heavens&rsquo; menace. And, audible in the hush now, a faint sound;
+      the sound of the runners on the towing-path cheering the crews forward,
+      forward.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And there was another faint sound that came to the Duke&rsquo;s ears. It he
+      understood when, a moment later, he saw the surface of the river alive
+      with infinitesimal fountains.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Rain!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His very mantle was aspersed. In another minute he would stand sodden,
+      inglorious, a mock. He didn&rsquo;t hesitate.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Zuleika!&rdquo; he cried in a loud voice. Then he took a deep breath, and,
+      burying his face in his mantle, plunged.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Full on the river lay the mantle outspread. Then it, too, went under. A
+      great roll of water marked the spot. The plumed hat floated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was a confusion of shouts from the raft, of screams from the roof.
+      Many youths&mdash;all the youths there&mdash;cried &ldquo;Zuleika!&rdquo; and leapt
+      emulously headlong into the water. &ldquo;Brave fellows!&rdquo; shouted the elder men,
+      supposing rescue-work. The rain pelted, the thunder pealed. Here and there
+      was a glimpse of a young head above water&mdash;for an instant only.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Shouts and screams now from the infected barges on either side. A score of
+      fresh plunges. &ldquo;Splendid fellows!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Meanwhile, what of the Duke? I am glad to say that he was alive and (but
+      for the cold he had caught last night) well. Indeed, his mind had never
+      worked more clearly than in this swift dim underworld. His mantle, the
+      cords of it having come untied, had drifted off him, leaving his arms
+      free. With breath well-pent, he steadily swam, scarcely less amused than
+      annoyed that the gods had, after all, dictated the exact time at which he
+      should seek death.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I am loth to interrupt my narrative at this rather exciting moment&mdash;a
+      moment when the quick, tense style, exemplified in the last paragraph but
+      one, is so very desirable. But in justice to the gods I must pause to put
+      in a word of excuse for them. They had imagined that it was in mere irony
+      that the Duke had said he could not die till after the bumping-races; and
+      not until it seemed that he stood ready to make an end of himself had the
+      signal been given by Zeus for the rain to fall. One is taught to refrain
+      from irony, because mankind does tend to take it literally. In the hearing
+      of the gods, who hear all, it is conversely unsafe to make a simple and
+      direct statement. So what is one to do? The dilemma needs a whole volume
+      to itself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But to return to the Duke. He had now been under water for a full minute,
+      swimming down stream; and he calculated that he had yet another full
+      minute of consciousness. Already the whole of his past life had vividly
+      presented itself to him&mdash;myriads of tiny incidents, long forgotten,
+      now standing out sharply in their due sequence. He had mastered this
+      conspectus in a flash of time, and was already tired of it. How smooth and
+      yielding were the weeds against his face! He wondered if Mrs. Batch had
+      been in time to cash the cheque. If not, of course his executors would pay
+      the amount, but there would be delays, long delays, Mrs. Batch in meshes
+      of red tape. Red tape for her, green weeds for him&mdash;he smiled at this
+      poor conceit, classifying it as a fair sample of merman&rsquo;s wit. He swam on
+      through the quiet cool darkness, less quickly now. Not many more strokes
+      now, he told himself; a few, only a few; then sleep. How was he come here?
+      Some woman had sent him. Ever so many years ago, some woman. He forgave
+      her. There was nothing to forgive her. It was the gods who had sent him&mdash;too
+      soon, too soon. He let his arms rise in the water, and he floated up.
+      There was air in that over-world, and something he needed to know there
+      before he came down again to sleep.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He gasped the air into his lungs, and he remembered what it was that he
+      needed to know.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Had he risen in mid-stream, the keel of the Magdalen boat might have
+      killed him. The oars of Magdalen did all but graze his face. The eyes of
+      the Magdalen cox met his. The cords of the Magdalen rudder slipped from
+      the hands that held them; whereupon the Magdalen man who rowed &ldquo;bow&rdquo;
+       missed his stroke.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      An instant later, just where the line of barges begins, Judas had bumped
+      Magdalen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A crash of thunder deadened the din of the stamping and dancing crowd on
+      the towing-path. The rain was a deluge making land and water as one.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And the conquered crew, and the conquering, both now had seen the face of
+      the Duke. A white smiling face, anon it was gone. Dorset was gone down to
+      his last sleep.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Victory and defeat alike forgotten, the crews staggered erect and flung
+      themselves into the river, the slender boats capsizing and spinning futile
+      around in a melley of oars.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      From the towing-path&mdash;no more din there now, but great single cries
+      of &ldquo;Zuleika!&rdquo;&mdash;leapt figures innumerable through rain to river. The
+      arrested boats of the other crews drifted zigzag hither and thither. The
+      dropped oars rocked and clashed, sank and rebounded, as the men plunged
+      across them into the swirling stream.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And over all this confusion and concussion of men and man-made things
+      crashed the vaster discords of the heavens; and the waters of the heavens
+      fell ever denser and denser, as though to the aid of waters that could not
+      in themselves envelop so many hundreds of struggling human forms.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      All along the soaked towing-path lay strewn the horns, the rattles, the
+      motor-hooters, that the youths had flung aside before they leapt. Here and
+      there among these relics stood dazed elder men, staring through the storm.
+      There was one of them&mdash;a grey-beard&mdash;who stripped off his
+      blazer, plunged, grabbed at some live man, grappled him, was dragged
+      under. He came up again further along stream, swam choking to the bank,
+      clung to the grasses. He whimpered as he sought foot-hold in the slime. It
+      was ill to be down in that abominable sink of death.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Abominable, yes, to them who discerned there death only; but sacramental
+      and sweet enough to the men who were dying there for love. Any face that
+      rose was smiling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The thunder receded; the rain was less vehement: the boats and the oars
+      had drifted against the banks. And always the patient river bore its awful
+      burden towards Iffley.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As on the towing-path, so on the youth-bereft rafts of the barges, yonder,
+      stood many stupefied elders, staring at the river, staring back from the
+      river into one another&rsquo;s faces.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dispeopled now were the roofs of the barges. Under the first drops of the
+      rain most of the women had come huddling down for shelter inside; panic
+      had presently driven down the rest. Yet on one roof one woman still was. A
+      strange, drenched figure, she stood bright-eyed in the dimness; alone, as
+      it was well she should be in her great hour; draining the lees of such
+      homage as had come to no woman in history recorded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0022" id="link2H_4_0022">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XX
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Artistically, there is a good deal to be said for that old Greek friend of
+      ours, the Messenger; and I dare say you blame me for having, as it were,
+      made you an eye-witness of the death of the undergraduates, when I might
+      so easily have brought some one in to tell you about it after it was all
+      over... Some one? Whom? Are you not begging the question? I admit there
+      were, that evening in Oxford, many people who, when they went home from
+      the river, gave vivid reports of what they had seen. But among them was
+      none who had seen more than a small portion of the whole affair.
+      Certainly, I might have pieced together a dozen of the various accounts,
+      and put them all into the mouth of one person. But credibility is not
+      enough for Clio&rsquo;s servant. I aim at truth. And so, as I by my Zeus-given
+      incorporeity was the one person who had a good view of the scene at large,
+      you must pardon me for having withheld the veil of indirect narration.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Too late,&rdquo; you will say if I offer you a Messenger now. But it was not
+      thus that Mrs. Batch and Katie greeted Clarence when, lamentably soaked
+      with rain, that Messenger appeared on the threshold of the kitchen. Katie
+      was laying the table-cloth for seven o&rsquo;clock supper. Neither she nor her
+      mother was clairvoyante. Neither of them knew what had been happening.
+      But, as Clarence had not come home since afternoon-school, they had
+      assumed that he was at the river; and they now assumed from the look of
+      him that something very unusual had been happening there. As to what this
+      was, they were not quickly enlightened. Our old Greek friend, after a run
+      of twenty miles, would always reel off a round hundred of graphic verses
+      unimpeachable in scansion. Clarence was of degenerate mould. He collapsed
+      on to a chair, and sat there gasping; and his recovery was rather delayed
+      than hastened by his mother, who, in her solicitude, patted him vigorously
+      between the shoulders.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let him alone, mother, do,&rdquo; cried Katie, wringing her hands.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Duke, he&rsquo;s drowned himself,&rdquo; presently gasped the Messenger.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Blank verse, yes, so far as it went; but delivered without the slightest
+      regard for rhythm, and composed in stark defiance of those laws which
+      should regulate the breaking of bad news. You, please remember, were
+      carefully prepared by me against the shock of the Duke&rsquo;s death; and yet I
+      hear you still mumbling that I didn&rsquo;t let the actual fact be told you by a
+      Messenger. Come, do you really think your grievance against me is for a
+      moment comparable with that of Mrs. and Miss Batch against Clarence? Did
+      you feel faint at any moment in the foregoing chapter? No. But Katie, at
+      Clarence&rsquo;s first words, fainted outright. Think a little more about this
+      poor girl senseless on the floor, and a little less about your own paltry
+      discomfort.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Batch herself did not faint, but she was too much overwhelmed to
+      notice that her daughter had done so.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No! Mercy on us! Speak, boy, can&rsquo;t you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The river,&rdquo; gasped Clarence. &ldquo;Threw himself in. On purpose. I was on the
+      towing-path. Saw him do it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Batch gave a low moan.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Katie&rsquo;s fainted,&rdquo; added the Messenger, not without a touch of personal
+      pride.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Saw him do it,&rdquo; Mrs. Batch repeated dully. &ldquo;Katie,&rdquo; she said, in the same
+      voice, &ldquo;get up this instant.&rdquo; But Katie did not hear her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The mother was loth to have been outdone in sensibility by the daughter,
+      and it was with some temper that she hastened to make the necessary
+      ministrations.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where am I?&rdquo; asked Katie, at length, echoing the words used in this very
+      house, at a similar juncture, on this very day, by another lover of the
+      Duke.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, you may well ask that,&rdquo; said Mrs. Batch, with more force than reason.
+      &ldquo;A mother&rsquo;s support indeed! Well! And as for you,&rdquo; she cried, turning on
+      Clarence, &ldquo;sending her off like that with your&mdash;&rdquo; She was face to
+      face again with the tragic news. Katie, remembering it simultaneously,
+      uttered a loud sob. Mrs. Batch capped this with a much louder one.
+      Clarence stood before the fire, slowly revolving on one heel. His clothes
+      steamed briskly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It isn&rsquo;t true,&rdquo; said Katie. She rose and came uncertainly towards her
+      brother, half threatening, half imploring.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All right,&rdquo; said he, strong in his advantage. &ldquo;Then I shan&rsquo;t tell either
+      of you anything more.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Batch through her tears called Katie a bad girl, and Clarence a bad
+      boy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where did you get THEM?&rdquo; asked Clarence, pointing to the ear-rings worn
+      by his sister.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;HE gave me them,&rdquo; said Katie. Clarence curbed the brotherly intention of
+      telling her she looked &ldquo;a sight&rdquo; in them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She stood staring into vacancy. &ldquo;He didn&rsquo;t love HER,&rdquo; she murmured. &ldquo;That
+      was all over. I&rsquo;ll vow he didn&rsquo;t love HER.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who d&rsquo;you mean by her?&rdquo; asked Clarence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That Miss Dobson that&rsquo;s been here.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What&rsquo;s her other name?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Zuleika,&rdquo; Katie enunciated with bitterest abhorrence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, then, he jolly well did love her. That&rsquo;s the name he called out
+      just before he threw himself in. &lsquo;Zuleika!&rsquo;&mdash;like that,&rdquo; added the
+      boy, with a most infelicitous attempt to reproduce the Duke&rsquo;s manner.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Katie had shut her eyes, and clenched her hands.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He hated her. He told me so,&rdquo; she said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was always a mother to him,&rdquo; sobbed Mrs. Batch, rocking to and fro on a
+      chair in a corner. &ldquo;Why didn&rsquo;t he come to me in his trouble?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He kissed me,&rdquo; said Katie, as in a trance. &ldquo;No other man shall ever do
+      that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He did?&rdquo; exclaimed Clarence. &ldquo;And you let him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You wretched little whipper-snapper!&rdquo; flashed Katie.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I am, am I?&rdquo; shouted Clarence, squaring up to his sister. &ldquo;Say that
+      again, will you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There is no doubt that Katie would have said it again, had not her mother
+      closed the scene with a prolonged wail of censure.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You ought to be thinking of ME, you wicked girl,&rdquo; said Mrs. Batch. Katie
+      went across, and laid a gentle hand on her mother&rsquo;s shoulder. This,
+      however, did but evoke a fresh flood of tears. Mrs. Batch had a keen sense
+      of the deportment owed to tragedy. Katie, by bickering with Clarence, had
+      thrown away the advantage she had gained by fainting. Mrs. Batch was not
+      going to let her retrieve it by shining as a consoler. I hasten to add
+      that this resolve was only sub-conscious in the good woman. Her grief was
+      perfectly sincere. And it was not the less so because with it was mingled
+      a certain joy in the greatness of the calamity. She came of good sound
+      peasant stock. Abiding in her was the spirit of those old songs and
+      ballads in which daisies and daffodillies and lovers&rsquo; vows and smiles are
+      so strangely inwoven with tombs and ghosts, with murders and all manner of
+      grim things. She had not had education enough to spoil her nerve. She was
+      able to take the rough with the smooth. She was able to take all life for
+      her province, and death too.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Duke was dead. This was the stupendous outline she had grasped: now
+      let it be filled in. She had been stricken: now let her be racked. Soon
+      after her daughter had moved away, Mrs. Batch dried her eyes, and bade
+      Clarence tell just what had happened. She did not flinch. Modern Katie
+      did.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Such had ever been the Duke&rsquo;s magic in the household that Clarence had at
+      first forgotten to mention that any one else was dead. Of this omission he
+      was glad. It promised him a new lease of importance. Meanwhile, he
+      described in greater detail the Duke&rsquo;s plunge. Mrs. Batch&rsquo;s mind, while
+      she listened, ran ahead, dog-like, into the immediate future, ranging
+      around: &ldquo;the family&rdquo; would all be here to-morrow, the Duke&rsquo;s own room must
+      be &ldquo;put straight&rdquo; to-night, &ldquo;I was of speaking&rdquo;...
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Katie&rsquo;s mind harked back to the immediate past&mdash;to the tone of that
+      voice, to that hand which she had kissed, to the touch of those lips on
+      her brow, to the door-step she had made so white for him, day by day...
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The sound of the rain had long ceased. There was the noise of a gathering
+      wind.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then in went a lot of others,&rdquo; Clarence was saying. &ldquo;And they all shouted
+      out &lsquo;Zuleika!&rsquo; just like he did. Then a lot more went in. First I thought
+      it was some sort of fun. Not it!&rdquo; And he told how, by inquiries further
+      down the river, he had learned the extent of the disaster. &ldquo;Hundreds and
+      hundreds of them&mdash;ALL of them,&rdquo; he summed up. &ldquo;And all for the love
+      of HER,&rdquo; he added, as with a sulky salute to Romance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Batch had risen from her chair, the better to cope with such
+      magnitude. She stood with wide-spread arms, silent, gaping. She seemed, by
+      sheer force of sympathy, to be expanding to the dimensions of a crowd.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Intensive Katie recked little of all these other deaths. &ldquo;I only know,&rdquo;
+       she said, &ldquo;that he hated her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hundreds and hundreds&mdash;ALL,&rdquo; intoned Mrs. Batch, then gave a sudden
+      start, as having remembered something. Mr. Noaks! He, too! She staggered
+      to the door, leaving her actual offspring to their own devices, and went
+      heavily up the stairs, her mind scampering again before her.... If he was
+      safe and sound, dear young gentleman, heaven be praised! and she would
+      break the awful news to him, very gradually. If not, there was another
+      &ldquo;family&rdquo; to be solaced; &ldquo;I&rsquo;m a mother myself, Mrs. Noaks&rdquo;...
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The sitting-room door was closed. Twice did Mrs. Batch tap on the panel,
+      receiving no answer. She went in, gazed around in the dimness, sighed
+      deeply, and struck a match. Conspicuous on the table lay a piece of paper.
+      She bent to examine it. A piece of lined paper, torn from an exercise
+      book, it was neatly inscribed with the words &ldquo;What is Life without Love?&rdquo;
+       The final word and the note of interrogation were somewhat blurred, as by
+      a tear. The match had burnt itself out. The landlady lit another, and read
+      the legend a second time, that she might take in the full pathos of it.
+      Then she sat down in the arm-chair. For some minutes she wept there. Then,
+      having no more, tears, she went out on tip-toe, closing the door very
+      quietly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As she descended the last flight of stairs, her daughter had just shut the
+      front-door, and was coming along the hall.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Poor Mr. Noaks&mdash;he&rsquo;s gone,&rdquo; said the mother.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Has he?&rdquo; said Katie listlessly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes he has, you heartless girl. What&rsquo;s that you&rsquo;ve got in your hand? Why,
+      if it isn&rsquo;t the black-leading! And what have you been doing with that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let me alone, mother, do,&rdquo; said poor Katie. She had done her lowly task.
+      She had expressed her mourning, as best she could, there where she had
+      been wont to express her love.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0023" id="link2H_4_0023">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XXI
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      And Zuleika? She had done a wise thing, and was where it was best that she
+      should be.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her face lay upturned on the water&rsquo;s surface, and round it were the masses
+      of her dark hair, half floating, half submerged. Her eyes were closed, and
+      her lips were parted. Not Ophelia in the brook could have seemed more at
+      peace.
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+          &ldquo;Like a creature native and indued
+     Unto that element,&rdquo;
+ tranquil Zuleika lay.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      Gently to and fro her tresses drifted on the water, or under the water
+      went ever ravelling and unravelling. Nothing else of her stirred.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      What to her now the loves that she had inspired and played on? the lives
+      lost for her? Little thought had she now of them. Aloof she lay.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Steadily rising from the water was a thick vapour that turned to dew on
+      the window-pane. The air was heavy with scent of violets. These are the
+      flowers of mourning; but their scent here and now signified nothing; for
+      Eau de Violettes was the bath-essence that Zuleika always had.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The bath-room was not of the white-gleaming kind to which she was
+      accustomed. The walls were papered, not tiled, and the bath itself was of
+      japanned tin, framed in mahogany. These things, on the evening of her
+      arrival at the Warden&rsquo;s, had rather distressed her. But she was the better
+      able to bear them because of that well-remembered past when a bath-room
+      was in itself a luxury pined for&mdash;days when a not-large and not-full
+      can of not-hot water, slammed down at her bedroom door by a
+      governess-resenting housemaid, was as much as the gods allowed her. And
+      there was, to dulcify for her the bath of this evening, the yet sharper
+      contrast with the plight she had just come home in, sopped, shivering,
+      clung to by her clothes. Because this bath was not a mere luxury, but a
+      necessary precaution, a sure means of salvation from chill, she did the
+      more gratefully bask in it, till Melisande came back to her, laden with
+      warmed towels.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A few minutes before eight o&rsquo;clock she was fully ready to go down to
+      dinner, with even more than the usual glow of health, and hungry beyond
+      her wont.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Yet, as she went down, her heart somewhat misgave her. Indeed, by force of
+      the wide experience she had had as a governess, she never did feel quite
+      at her ease when she was staying in a private house: the fear of not
+      giving satisfaction haunted her; she was always on her guard; the shadow
+      of dismissal absurdly hovered. And to-night she could not tell herself, as
+      she usually did, not to be so silly. If her grandfather knew already the
+      motive by which those young men had been actuated, dinner with him might
+      be a rather strained affair. He might tell her, in so many words, that he
+      wished he had not invited her to Oxford.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Through the open door of the drawing room she saw him, standing majestic,
+      draped in a voluminous black gown. Her instinct was to run away; but this
+      she conquered. She went straight in, remembering not to smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, ah,&rdquo; said the Warden, shaking a forefinger at her with old-world
+      playfulness. &ldquo;And what have you to say for yourself?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Relieved, she was also a trifle shocked. Was it possible that he, a
+      responsible old man, could take things so lightly?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, grand-papa,&rdquo; she answered, hanging her head, &ldquo;what CAN I say? It is&mdash;it
+      is too, too, dreadful.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There, there, my dear. I was but jesting. If you have had an agreeable
+      time, you are forgiven for playing truant. Where have you been all day?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She saw that she had misjudged him. &ldquo;I have just come from the river,&rdquo; she
+      said gravely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes? And did the College make its fourth bump to-night?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&mdash;I don&rsquo;t know, grand-papa. There was so much happening. It&mdash;I
+      will tell you all about it at dinner.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, but to-night,&rdquo; he said, indicating his gown, &ldquo;I cannot be with you.
+      The bump-supper, you know. I have to preside in Hall.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Zuleika had forgotten there was to be a bump-supper, and, though she was
+      not very sure what a bump-supper was, she felt it would be a mockery
+      to-night.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But grand-papa&mdash;&rdquo; she began.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear, I cannot dissociate myself from the life of the College. And,
+      alas,&rdquo; he said, looking at the clock, &ldquo;I must leave you now. As soon as
+      you have finished dinner, you might, if you would care to, come and peep
+      down at us from the gallery. There is apt to be some measure of noise and
+      racket, but all of it good-humoured and&mdash;boys will be boys&mdash;pardonable.
+      Will you come?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perhaps, grand-papa,&rdquo; she said awkwardly. Left alone, she hardly knew
+      whether to laugh or cry. In a moment, the butler came to her rescue,
+      telling her that dinner was served.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As the figure of the Warden emerged from Salt Cellar into the Front
+      Quadrangle, a hush fell on the group of gowned Fellows outside the Hall.
+      Most of them had only just been told the news, and (such is the force of
+      routine in an University) were still sceptical of it. And in face of these
+      doubts the three or four dons who had been down at the river were now half
+      ready to believe that there must, after all, be some mistake, and that in
+      this world of illusions they had to-night been specially tricked. To rebut
+      this theory, there was the notable absence of undergraduates. Or was this
+      an illusion, too? Men of thought, agile on the plane of ideas, devils of
+      fellows among books, they groped feebly in this matter of actual life and
+      death. The sight of their Warden heartened them. After all, he was the
+      responsible person. He was father of the flock that had strayed, and
+      grandfather of the beautiful Miss Zuleika.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Like her, they remembered not to smile in greeting him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good evening, gentlemen,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;The storm seems to have passed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was a murmur of &ldquo;Yes, Warden.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And how did our boat acquit itself?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was a shuffling pause. Every one looked at the Sub-Warden: it was
+      manifestly for him to break the news, or to report the hallucination. He
+      was nudged forward&mdash;a large man, with a large beard at which he
+      plucked nervously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, really, Warden,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;we&mdash;we hardly know,&rdquo; * and he ended
+      with what can only be described as a giggle. He fell low in the esteem of
+      his fellows.
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+   *Those of my readers who are interested in athletic sports will
+    remember the long controversy that raged as to whether Judas had
+    actually bumped Magdalen; and they will not need to be minded that
+    it was mainly through the evidence of Mr. E. T. A. Cook, who had
+    been on the towing-path at the time, that the O. U. B. C. decided
+    the point in Judas&rsquo; favour, and fixed the order of the boats for
+    the following year accordingly.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      Thinking of that past Sub-Warden whose fame was linked with the sun-dial,
+      the Warden eyed this one keenly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, gentlemen,&rdquo; he presently said, &ldquo;our young men seem to be already at
+      table. Shall we follow their example?&rdquo; And he led the way up the steps.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Already at table? The dons&rsquo; dubiety toyed with this hypothesis. But the
+      aspect of the Hall&rsquo;s interior was hard to explain away. Here were the
+      three long tables, stretching white towards the dais, and laden with the
+      usual crockery and cutlery, and with pots of flowers in honour of the
+      occasion. And here, ranged along either wall, was the usual array of
+      scouts, motionless, with napkins across their arms. But that was all.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It became clear to the Warden that some organised prank or protest was
+      afoot. Dignity required that he should take no heed whatsoever. Looking
+      neither to the right nor to the left, stately he approached the dais, his
+      Fellows to heel.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In Judas, as in other Colleges, grace before meat is read by the Senior
+      Scholar. The Judas grace (composed, they say, by Christopher Whitrid
+      himself) is noted for its length and for the excellence of its Latinity.
+      Who was to read it to-night? The Warden, having searched his mind vainly
+      for a precedent, was driven to create one.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Junior Fellow,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;will read grace.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Blushing to the roots of his hair, and with crablike gait, Mr. Pedby, the
+      Junior Fellow, went and unhooked from the wall that little shield of wood
+      on which the words of the grace are carven. Mr. Pedby was&mdash;Mr. Pedby
+      is&mdash;a mathematician. His treatise on the Higher Theory of Short
+      Division by Decimals had already won for him an European reputation. Judas
+      was&mdash;Judas is&mdash;proud of Pedby. Nor is it denied that in
+      undertaking the duty thrust on him he quickly controlled his nerves and
+      read the Latin out in ringing accents. Better for him had he not done so.
+      The false quantities he made were so excruciating and so many that, while
+      the very scouts exchanged glances, the dons at the high table lost all
+      command of their features, and made horrible noises in the effort to
+      contain themselves. The very Warden dared not look from his plate.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In every breast around the high table, behind every shirt-front or black
+      silk waistcoat, glowed the recognition of a new birth. Suddenly,
+      unheralded, a thing of highest destiny had fallen into their academic
+      midst. The stock of Common Room talk had to-night been re-inforced and
+      enriched for all time. Summers and winters would come and go, old faces
+      would vanish, giving place to new, but the story of Pedby&rsquo;s grace would be
+      told always. Here was a tradition that generations of dons yet unborn
+      would cherish and chuckle over. Something akin to awe mingled itself with
+      the subsiding merriment. And the dons, having finished their soup, sipped
+      in silence the dry brown sherry.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Those who sat opposite to the Warden, with their backs to the void, were
+      oblivious of the matter that had so recently teased them. They were
+      conscious only of an agreeable hush, in which they peered down the vistas
+      of the future, watching the tradition of Pedby&rsquo;s grace as it rolled
+      brighter and ever brighter down to eternity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The pop of a champagne cork startled them to remembrance that this was a
+      bump-supper, and a bump-supper of a peculiar kind. The turbot that came
+      after the soup, the champagne that succeeded the sherry, helped to quicken
+      in these men of thought the power to grapple with a reality. The aforesaid
+      three or four who had been down at the river recovered their lost belief
+      in the evidence of their eyes and ears. In the rest was a spirit of
+      receptivity which, as the meal went on, mounted to conviction. The
+      Sub-Warden made a second and more determined attempt to enlighten the
+      Warden; but the Warden&rsquo;s eye met his with a suspicion so cruelly pointed
+      that he again floundered and gave in.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      All adown those empty other tables gleamed the undisturbed cutlery, and
+      the flowers in the pots innocently bloomed. And all adown either wall,
+      unneeded but undisbanded, the scouts remained. Some of the elder ones
+      stood with closed eyes and heads sunk forward, now and again jerking
+      themselves erect, and blinking around, wondering, remembering.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And for a while this scene was looked down on by a not disinterested
+      stranger. For a while, her chin propped on her hands, Zuleika leaned over
+      the rail of the gallery, just as she had lately leaned over the barge&rsquo;s
+      rail, staring down and along. But there was no spark of triumph now in her
+      eyes; only a deep melancholy; and in her mouth a taste as of dust and
+      ashes. She thought of last night, and of all the buoyant life that this
+      Hall had held. Of the Duke she thought, and of the whole vivid and eager
+      throng of his fellows in love. Her will, their will, had been done. But,
+      there rose to her lips the old, old question that withers victory&mdash;&ldquo;To
+      what end?&rdquo; Her eyes ranged along the tables, and an appalling sense of
+      loneliness swept over her. She turned away, wrapping the folds of her
+      cloak closer across her breast. Not in this College only, but through and
+      through Oxford, there was no heart that beat for her&mdash;no, not one,
+      she told herself, with that instinct for self-torture which comes to souls
+      in torment. She was utterly alone to-night in the midst of a vast
+      indifference. She! She! Was it possible? Were the gods so merciless? Ah
+      no, surely...
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Down at the high table the feast drew to its close, and very different was
+      the mood of the feasters from that of the young woman whose glance had for
+      a moment rested on their unromantic heads. Generations of undergraduates
+      had said that Oxford would be all very well but for the dons. Do you
+      suppose that the dons had had no answering sentiment? Youth is a very good
+      thing to possess, no doubt; but it is a tiresome setting for maturity.
+      Youth all around prancing, vociferating, mocking; callow and alien youth,
+      having to be looked after and studied and taught, as though nothing but it
+      mattered, term after term&mdash;and now, all of a sudden, in mid-term,
+      peace, ataraxy, a profound and leisured stillness. No lectures to deliver
+      to-morrow; no &ldquo;essays&rdquo; to hear and criticise; time for the unvexed pursuit
+      of pure learning...
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As the Fellows passed out on their way to Common Room, there to tackle
+      with a fresh appetite Pedby&rsquo;s grace, they paused, as was their wont, on
+      the steps of the Hall, looking up at the sky, envisaging the weather. The
+      wind had dropped. There was even a glimpse of the moon riding behind the
+      clouds. And now, a solemn and plangent token of Oxford&rsquo;s perpetuity, the
+      first stroke of Great Tom sounded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0024" id="link2H_4_0024">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XXII
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Stroke by stroke, the great familiar monody of that incomparable curfew
+      rose and fell in the stillness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Nothing of Oxford lingers more surely than it in the memory of Oxford men;
+      and to one revisiting these groves nothing is more eloquent of that
+      scrupulous historic economy whereby his own particular past is utilised as
+      the general present and future. &ldquo;All&rsquo;s as it was, all&rsquo;s as it will be,&rdquo;
+       says Great Tom; and that is what he stubbornly said on the evening I here
+      record.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Stroke by measured and leisured stroke, the old euphonious clangour
+      pervaded Oxford, spreading out over the meadows, along the river, audible
+      in Iffley. But to the dim groups gathering and dispersing on either bank,
+      and to the silent workers in the boats, the bell&rsquo;s message came softened,
+      equivocal; came as a requiem for these dead.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Over the closed gates of Iffley lock, the water gushed down, eager for the
+      sacrament of the sea. Among the supine in the field hard by, there was one
+      whose breast bore a faint-gleaming star. And bending over him, looking
+      down at him with much love and pity in her eyes, was the shade of Nellie
+      O&rsquo;Mora, that &ldquo;fairest witch,&rdquo; to whose memory he had to-day atoned.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And yonder, &ldquo;sitting upon the river-bank o&rsquo;ergrown,&rdquo; with questioning
+      eyes, was another shade, more habituated to these haunts&mdash;the shade
+      known so well to bathers &ldquo;in the abandoned lasher,&rdquo; and to dancers &ldquo;around
+      the Fyfield elm in May.&rdquo; At the bell&rsquo;s final stroke, the Scholar Gipsy
+      rose, letting fall on the water his gathered wild-flowers, and passed
+      towards Cumnor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And now, duly, throughout Oxford, the gates of the Colleges were closed,
+      and closed were the doors of the lodging-houses. Every night, for many
+      years, at this hour precisely, Mrs. Batch had come out from her kitchen,
+      to turn the key in the front-door. The function had long ago become
+      automatic. To-night, however, it was the cue for further tears. These did
+      not cease at her return to the kitchen, where she had gathered about her
+      some sympathetic neighbours&mdash;women of her own age and kind, capacious
+      of tragedy; women who might be relied on; founts of ejaculation, wells of
+      surmise, downpours of remembered premonitions.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      With his elbows on the kitchen table, and his knuckles to his brow, sat
+      Clarence, intent on belated &ldquo;prep.&rdquo; Even an eye-witness of disaster may
+      pall if he repeat his story too often. Clarence had noted in the last
+      recital that he was losing his hold on his audience. So now he sat
+      committing to memory the names of the cantons of Switzerland, and waving
+      aside with a harsh gesture such questions as were still put to him by the
+      women.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Katie had sought refuge in the need for &ldquo;putting the gentlemen&rsquo;s rooms
+      straight,&rdquo; against the arrival of the two families to-morrow. Duster in
+      hand, and by the light of a single candle that barely survived the draught
+      from the open window, she moved to and fro about the Duke&rsquo;s room, a wan
+      and listless figure, casting queerest shadows on the ceiling. There were
+      other candles that she might have lit, but this ambiguous gloom suited her
+      sullen humour. Yes, I am sorry to say, Katie was sullen. She had not
+      ceased to mourn the Duke; but it was even more anger than grief that she
+      felt at his dying. She was as sure as ever that he had not loved Miss
+      Dobson; but this only made it the more outrageous that he had died because
+      of her. What was there in this woman that men should so demean themselves
+      for her? Katie, as you know, had at first been unaffected by the death of
+      the undergraduates at large. But, because they too had died for Zuleika,
+      she was bitterly incensed against them now. What could they have admired
+      in such a woman? She didn&rsquo;t even look like a lady. Katie caught the dim
+      reflection of herself in the mirror. She took the candle from the table,
+      and examined the reflection closely. She was sure she was just as pretty
+      as Miss Dobson. It was only the clothes that made the difference&mdash;the
+      clothes and the behaviour. Katie threw back her head, and smiled
+      brilliantly, hand on hip. She nodded reassuringly at herself; and the
+      black pearl and the pink danced a duet. She put the candle down, and undid
+      her hair, roughly parting it on one side, and letting it sweep down over
+      the further eyebrow. She fixed it in that fashion, and posed accordingly.
+      Now! But gradually her smile relaxed, and a mist came to her eyes. For she
+      had to admit that even so, after all, she hadn&rsquo;t just that something which
+      somehow Miss Dobson had. She put away from her the hasty dream she had had
+      of a whole future generation of undergraduates drowning themselves, every
+      one, in honour of her. She went wearily on with her work.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently, after a last look round, she went up the creaking stairs, to do
+      Mr. Noaks&rsquo; room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She found on the table that screed which her mother had recited so often
+      this evening. She put it in the waste-paper basket.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Also on the table were a lexicon, a Thucydides, and some note-books. These
+      she took and shelved without a tear for the closed labours they bore
+      witness to.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The next disorder that met her eye was one that gave her pause&mdash;seemed,
+      indeed, to transfix her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Noaks had never, since he came to lodge here, possessed more than one
+      pair of boots. This fact had been for her a lasting source of annoyance;
+      for it meant that she had to polish Mr. Noaks&rsquo; boots always in the early
+      morning, when there were so many other things to be done, instead of
+      choosing her own time. Her annoyance had been all the keener because Mr.
+      Noaks&rsquo; boots more than made up in size for what they lacked in number.
+      Either of them singly took more time and polish than any other pair
+      imaginable. She would have recognised them, at a glance, anywhere. Even so
+      now, it was at a glance that she recognised the toes of them protruding
+      from beneath the window-curtain. She dismissed the theory that Mr. Noaks
+      might have gone utterly unshod to the river. She scouted the hypothesis
+      that his ghost could be shod thus. By process of elimination she arrived
+      at the truth. &ldquo;Mr. Noaks,&rdquo; she said quietly, &ldquo;come out of there.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was a slight quiver of the curtain; no more. Katie repeated her
+      words. There was a pause, then a convulsion of the curtain. Noaks stood
+      forth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Always, in polishing his boots, Katie had found herself thinking of him as
+      a man of prodigious stature, well though she knew him to be quite tiny.
+      Even so now, at recognition of his boots, she had fixed her eyes to meet
+      his, when he should emerge, a full yard too high. With a sharp drop she
+      focussed him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By what right,&rdquo; he asked, &ldquo;do you come prying about my room?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This was a stroke so unexpected that it left Katie mute. It equally
+      surprised Noaks, who had been about to throw himself on his knees and
+      implore this girl not to betray him. He was quick, though, to clinch his
+      advantage.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;is the first time I have caught you. Let it be the
+      last.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Was this the little man she had so long despised, and so superciliously
+      served? His very smallness gave him an air of concentrated force. She
+      remembered having read that all the greatest men in history had been of
+      less than the middle height. And&mdash;oh, her heart leapt&mdash;here was
+      the one man who had scorned to die for Miss Dobson. He alone had held out
+      against the folly of his fellows. Sole and splendid survivor he stood,
+      rock-footed, before her. And impulsively she abased herself, kneeling at
+      his feet as at the great double altar of some dark new faith.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are great, sir, you are wonderful,&rdquo; she said, gazing up to him, rapt.
+      It was the first time she had ever called him &ldquo;sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It is easier, as Michelet suggested, for a woman to change her opinion of
+      a man than for him to change his opinion of himself. Noaks, despite the
+      presence of mind he had shown a few moments ago, still saw himself as he
+      had seen himself during the past hours: that is, as an arrant little
+      coward&mdash;one who by his fear to die had put himself outside the pale
+      of decent manhood. He had meant to escape from the house at dead of night
+      and, under an assumed name, work his passage out to Australia&mdash;a land
+      which had always made strong appeal to his imagination. No one, he had
+      reflected, would suppose because his body was not retrieved from the water
+      that he had not perished with the rest. And he had looked to Australia to
+      make a man of him yet: in Encounter Bay, perhaps, or in the Gulf of
+      Carpentaria, he might yet end nobly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Thus Katie&rsquo;s behaviour was as much an embarrassment as a relief; and he
+      asked her in what way he was great and wonderful.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Modest, like all heroes!&rdquo; she cried, and, still kneeling, proceeded to
+      sing his praises with a so infectious fervour that Noaks did begin to feel
+      he had done a fine thing in not dying. After all, was it not moral
+      cowardice as much as love that had tempted him to die? He had wrestled
+      with it, thrown it. &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said he, when her rhapsody was over, &ldquo;perhaps I
+      am modest.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And that is why you hid yourself just now?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he gladly said. &ldquo;I hid myself for the same reason,&rdquo; he added, &ldquo;when
+      I heard your mother&rsquo;s footstep.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But,&rdquo; she faltered, with a sudden doubt, &ldquo;that bit of writing which
+      Mother found on the table&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That? Oh, that was only a general reflection, copied out of a book.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, won&rsquo;t poor Mother be glad when she knows!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t want her to know,&rdquo; said Noaks, with a return of nervousness. &ldquo;You
+      mustn&rsquo;t tell any one. I&mdash;the fact is&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, that is so like you!&rdquo; the girl said tenderly. &ldquo;I suppose it was your
+      modesty that all this while blinded me. Please, sir, I have a confession
+      to make to you. Never till to-night have I loved you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Exquisite was the shock of these words to one who, not without reason, had
+      always assumed that no woman would ever love him. Before he knew what he
+      was doing, he had bent down and kissed the sweet upturned face. It was the
+      first kiss he had ever given outside his family circle. It was an artless
+      and a resounding kiss.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He started back, dazed. What manner of man, he wondered, was he? A coward,
+      piling profligacy on poltroonery? Or a hero, claiming exemption from moral
+      law? What was done could not be undone; but it could be righted. He drew
+      off from the little finger of his left hand that iron ring which, after a
+      twinge of rheumatism, he had to-day resumed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wear it,&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You mean&mdash;?&rdquo; She leapt to her feet.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That we are engaged. I hope you don&rsquo;t think we have any choice?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She clapped her hands, like the child she was, and adjusted the ring.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is very pretty,&rdquo; she said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is very simple,&rdquo; he answered lightly. &ldquo;But,&rdquo; he added, with a change
+      of tone, &ldquo;it is very durable. And that is the important thing. For I shall
+      not be in a position to marry before I am forty.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A shadow of disappointment hovered over Katie&rsquo;s clear young brow, but was
+      instantly chased away by the thought that to be engaged was almost as
+      splendid as to be married.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Recently,&rdquo; said her lover, &ldquo;I meditated leaving Oxford for Australia. But
+      now that you have come into my life, I am compelled to drop that notion,
+      and to carve out the career I had first set for myself. A year hence, if I
+      get a Second in Greats&mdash;and I SHALL&rdquo; he said, with a fierce look that
+      entranced her&mdash;&ldquo;I shall have a very good chance of an
+      assistant-mastership in a good private school. In eighteen years, if I am
+      careful&mdash;and, with you waiting for me, I SHALL be careful&mdash;my
+      savings will enable me to start a small school of my own, and to take a
+      wife. Even then it would be more prudent to wait another five years, no
+      doubt. But there was always a streak of madness in the Noakses. I say
+      &lsquo;Prudence to the winds!&rsquo;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, don&rsquo;t say that!&rdquo; exclaimed Katie, laying a hand on his sleeve.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are right. Never hesitate to curb me. And,&rdquo; he said, touching the
+      ring, &ldquo;an idea has just occurred to me. When the time comes, let this be
+      the wedding-ring. Gold is gaudy&mdash;not at all the thing for a
+      schoolmaster&rsquo;s bride. It is a pity,&rdquo; he muttered, examining her through
+      his spectacles, &ldquo;that your hair is so golden. A schoolmaster&rsquo;s bride
+      should&mdash;Good heavens! Those ear-rings! Where did you get THEM?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They were given to me to-day,&rdquo; Katie faltered. &ldquo;The Duke gave me them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Indeed?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Please, sir, he gave me them as a memento.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And that memento shall immediately be handed over to his executors.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should think so!&rdquo; was on the tip of Noaks&rsquo; tongue, but suddenly he
+      ceased to see the pearls as trinkets finite and inapposite&mdash;saw them,
+      in a flash, as things transmutable by sale hereafter into desks, forms,
+      black-boards, maps, lockers, cubicles, gravel soil, diet unlimited, and
+      special attention to backward pupils. Simultaneously, he saw how mean had
+      been his motive for repudiating the gift. What more despicable than
+      jealousy of a man deceased? What sillier than to cast pearls before
+      executors? Sped by nothing but the pulse of his hot youth, he had wooed
+      and won this girl. Why flinch from her unsought dowry?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He told her his vision. Her eyes opened wide to it. &ldquo;And oh,&rdquo; she cried,
+      &ldquo;then we can be married as soon as you take your degree!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He bade her not be so foolish. Who ever heard of a head-master aged
+      three-and-twenty? What parent or guardian would trust a stripling? The
+      engagement must run its course. &ldquo;And,&rdquo; he said, fidgeting, &ldquo;do you know
+      that I have hardly done any reading to-day?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You want to read NOW&mdash;TO-NIGHT?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I must put in a good two hours. Where are the books that were on my
+      table?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Reverently&mdash;he was indeed a king of men&mdash;she took the books down
+      from the shelf, and placed them where she had found them. And she knew not
+      which thrilled her the more&mdash;the kiss he gave her at parting, or the
+      tone in which he told her that the one thing he could not and would not
+      stand was having his books disturbed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Still less than before attuned to the lugubrious session downstairs, she
+      went straight up to her attic, and did a little dance there in the dark.
+      She threw open the lattice of the dormer-window, and leaned out, smiling,
+      throbbing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Emperors, gazing up, saw her happy, and wondered; saw Noaks&rsquo; ring on
+      her finger, and would fain have shaken their grey heads.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently she was aware of a protrusion from the window beneath hers. The
+      head of her beloved! Fondly she watched it, wished she could reach down to
+      stroke it. She loved him for having, after all, left his books. It was
+      sweet to be his excuse. Should she call softly to him? No, it might shame
+      him to be caught truant. He had already chidden her for prying. So she did
+      but gaze down on his head silently, wondering whether in eighteen years it
+      would be bald, wondering whether her own hair would still have the fault
+      of being golden. Most of all, she wondered whether he loved her half so
+      much as she loved him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This happened to be precisely what he himself was wondering. Not that he
+      wished himself free. He was one of those in whom the will does not, except
+      under very great pressure, oppose the conscience. What pressure here? Miss
+      Batch was a superior girl; she would grace any station in life. He had
+      always been rather in awe of her. It was a fine thing to be suddenly loved
+      by her, to be in a position to over-rule her every whim. Plighting his
+      troth, he had feared she would be an encumbrance, only to find she was a
+      lever. But&mdash;was he deeply in love with her? How was it that he could
+      not at this moment recall her features, or the tone of her voice, while of
+      deplorable Miss Dobson, every lineament, every accent, so vividly haunted
+      him? Try as he would to beat off these memories, he failed, and&mdash;some
+      very great pressure here!&mdash;was glad he failed; glad though he found
+      himself relapsing to the self-contempt from which Miss Batch had raised
+      him. He scorned himself for being alive. And again, he scorned himself for
+      his infidelity. Yet he was glad he could not forget that face, that voice&mdash;that
+      queen. She had smiled at him when she borrowed the ring. She had said
+      &ldquo;Thank you.&rdquo; Oh, and now, at this very moment, sleeping or waking,
+      actually she was somewhere&mdash;she! herself! This was an incredible, an
+      indubitable, an all-magical fact for the little fellow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      From the street below came a faint cry that was as the cry of his own
+      heart, uttered by her own lips. Quaking, he peered down, and dimly saw,
+      over the way, a cloaked woman.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She&mdash;yes, it was she herself&mdash;came gliding to the middle of the
+      road, gazing up at him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;At last!&rdquo; he heard her say. His instinct was to hide himself from the
+      queen he had not died for. Yet he could not move.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Or,&rdquo; she quavered, &ldquo;are you a phantom sent to mock me? Speak!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good evening,&rdquo; he said huskily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I knew,&rdquo; she murmured, &ldquo;I knew the gods were not so cruel. Oh man of my
+      need,&rdquo; she cried, stretching out her arms to him, &ldquo;oh heaven-sent, I see
+      you only as a dark outline against the light of your room. But I know you.
+      Your name is Noaks, isn&rsquo;t it? Dobson is mine. I am your Warden&rsquo;s
+      grand-daughter. I am faint and foot-sore. I have ranged this desert city
+      in search of&mdash;of YOU. Let me hear from your own lips that you love
+      me. Tell me in your own words&mdash;&rdquo; She broke off with a little scream,
+      and did not stand with forefinger pointed at him, gazing, gasping.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Listen, Miss Dobson,&rdquo; he stammered, writhing under what he took to be the
+      lash of her irony. &ldquo;Give me time to explain. You see me here&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hush,&rdquo; she cried, &ldquo;man of my greater, my deeper and nobler need! Oh hush,
+      ideal which not consciously I was out for to-night&mdash;ideal vouchsafed
+      to me by a crowning mercy! I sought a lover, I find a master. I sought but
+      a live youth, was blind to what his survival would betoken. Oh master, you
+      think me light and wicked. You stare coldly down at me through your
+      spectacles, whose glint I faintly discern now that the moon peeps forth.
+      You would be readier to forgive me the havoc I have wrought if you could
+      for the life of you understand what charm your friends found in me. You
+      marvel, as at the skull of Helen of Troy. No, you don&rsquo;t think me hideous:
+      you simply think me plain. There was a time when I thought YOU plain&mdash;you
+      whose face, now that the moon shines full on it, is seen to be of a beauty
+      that is flawless without being insipid. Oh that I were a glove upon that
+      hand, that I might touch that cheek! You shudder at the notion of such
+      contact. My voice grates on you. You try to silence me with frantic though
+      exquisite gestures, and with noises inarticulate but divine. I bow to your
+      will, master. Chasten me with your tongue.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am not what you think me,&rdquo; gibbered Noaks. &ldquo;I was not afraid to die for
+      you. I love you. I was on my way to the river this afternoon, but I&mdash;I
+      tripped and sprained my ankle, and&mdash;and jarred my spine. They carried
+      me back here. I am still very weak. I can&rsquo;t put my foot to the ground. As
+      soon as I can&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Just then Zuleika heard a little sharp sound which, for the fraction of an
+      instant, before she knew it to be a clink of metal on the pavement, she
+      thought was the breaking of the heart within her. Looking quickly down,
+      she heard a shrill girlish laugh aloft. Looking quickly up, she descried
+      at the unlit window above her lover&rsquo;s a face which she remembered as that
+      of the land-lady&rsquo;s daughter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Find it, Miss Dobson,&rdquo; laughed the girl. &ldquo;Crawl for it. It can&rsquo;t have
+      rolled far, and it&rsquo;s the only engagement-ring you&rsquo;ll get from HIM,&rdquo; she
+      said, pointing to the livid face twisted painfully up at her from the
+      lower window. &ldquo;Grovel for it, Miss Dobson. Ask him to step down and help
+      you. Oh, he can! That was all lies about his spine and ankle. Afraid,
+      that&rsquo;s what he was&mdash;I see it all now&mdash;afraid of the water. I
+      wish you&rsquo;d found him as I did&mdash;skulking behind the curtain. Oh,
+      you&rsquo;re welcome to him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t listen,&rdquo; Noaks cried down. &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t listen to that person. I admit I
+      have trifled with her affections. This is her revenge&mdash;these wicked
+      untruths&mdash;these&mdash;these&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Zuleika silenced him with a gesture. &ldquo;Your tone to me,&rdquo; she said up to
+      Katie, &ldquo;is not without offence; but the stamp of truth is on what you tell
+      me. We have both been deceived in this man, and are, in some sort,
+      sisters.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sisters?&rdquo; cried Katie. &ldquo;Your sisters are the snake and the spider, though
+      neither of them wishes it known. I loathe you. And the Duke loathed you,
+      too.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What&rsquo;s that?&rdquo; gasped Zuleika.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Didn&rsquo;t he tell you? He told me. And I warrant he told you, too.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He died for love of me: d&rsquo;you hear?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, you&rsquo;d like people to think so, wouldn&rsquo;t you? Does a man who loves a
+      woman give away the keepsake she gave him? Look!&rdquo; Katie leaned forward,
+      pointing to her ear-rings. &ldquo;He loved ME,&rdquo; she cried. &ldquo;He put them in with
+      his own hands&mdash;told me to wear them always. And he kissed me&mdash;kissed
+      me good-bye in the street, where every one could see. He kissed me,&rdquo; she
+      sobbed. &ldquo;No other man shall ever do that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, that he did!&rdquo; said a voice level with Zuleika. It was the voice of
+      Mrs. Batch, who a few moments ago had opened the door for her departing
+      guests.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, that he did!&rdquo; echoed the guests.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never mind them, Miss Dobson,&rdquo; cried Noaks, and at the sound of his voice
+      Mrs. Batch rushed into the middle of the road, to gaze up. &ldquo;<i>I</i> love
+      you. Think what you will of me. I&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You!&rdquo; flashed Zuleika. &ldquo;As for you, little Sir Lily Liver, leaning out
+      there, and, I frankly tell you, looking like nothing so much as a gargoyle
+      hewn by a drunken stone-mason for the adornment of a Methodist Chapel in
+      one of the vilest suburbs of Leeds or Wigan, I do but felicitate the
+      river-god and his nymphs that their water was saved to-day by your
+      cowardice from the contamination of your plunge.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Shame on you, Mr. Noaks,&rdquo; said Mrs. Batch, &ldquo;making believe you were dead&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Shame!&rdquo; screamed Clarence, who had darted out into the fray.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I found him hiding behind the curtain,&rdquo; chimed in Katie.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And I a mother to him!&rdquo; said Mrs. Batch, shaking her fist. &ldquo;&lsquo;What is life
+      without love?&rsquo; indeed! Oh, the cowardly, underhand&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wretch,&rdquo; prompted her cronies.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let&rsquo;s kick him out of the house!&rdquo; suggested Clarence, dancing for joy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Zuleika, smiling brilliantly down at the boy, said &ldquo;Just you run up and
+      fight him!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Right you are,&rdquo; he answered, with a look of knightly devotion, and darted
+      back into the house.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No escape!&rdquo; she cried up to Noaks. &ldquo;You&rsquo;ve got to fight him now. He and
+      you are just about evenly matched, I fancy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But, grimly enough, Zuleika&rsquo;s estimate was never put to the test. Is it
+      harder for a coward to fight with his fists than to kill himself? Or
+      again, is it easier for him to die than to endure a prolonged cross-fire
+      of women&rsquo;s wrath and scorn? This I know: that in the life of even the
+      least and meanest of us there is somewhere one fine moment&mdash;one high
+      chance not missed. I like to think it was by operation of this law that
+      Noaks had now clambered out upon the window-sill, silencing, sickening,
+      scattering like chaff the women beneath him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was already not there when Clarence bounded into the room. &ldquo;Come on!&rdquo;
+       yelled the boy, first thrusting his head behind the door, then diving
+      beneath the table, then plucking aside either window-curtain, vowing
+      vengeance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Vengeance was not his. Down on the road without, not yet looked at but by
+      the steadfast eyes of the Emperors, the last of the undergraduates lay
+      dead; and fleet-footed Zuleika, with her fingers still pressed to her
+      ears, had taken full toll now.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0025" id="link2H_4_0025">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XXIII
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Twisting and turning in her flight, with wild eyes that fearfully retained
+      the image of that small man gathering himself to spring, Zuleika found
+      herself suddenly where she could no further go.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She was in that grim ravine by which you approach New College. At sight of
+      the great shut gate before her, she halted, and swerved to the wall. She
+      set her brow and the palms of her hands against the cold stones. She threw
+      back her head, and beat the stones with her fists.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was not only what she had seen, it was what she had barely saved
+      herself from seeing, and what she had not quite saved herself from
+      hearing, that she strove so piteously to forget. She was sorrier for
+      herself, angrier, than she had been last night when the Duke laid hands on
+      her. Why should every day have a horrible ending? Last night she had
+      avenged herself. To-night&rsquo;s outrage was all the more foul and mean because
+      of its certain immunity. And the fact that she had in some measure brought
+      it on herself did but whip her rage. What a fool she had been to taunt the
+      man! Yet no, how could she have foreseen that he would&mdash;do THAT? How
+      could she have guessed that he, who had not dared seemly death for her in
+      the gentle river, would dare&mdash;THAT?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She shuddered the more as she now remembered that this very day, in that
+      very house, she had invited for her very self a similar fate. What if the
+      Duke had taken her word? Strange! she wouldn&rsquo;t have flinched then. She had
+      felt no horror at the notion of such a death. And thus she now saw Noaks&rsquo; 
+      conduct in a new light&mdash;saw that he had but wished to prove his love,
+      not at all to affront her. This understanding quickly steadied her nerves.
+      She did not need now to forget what she had seen; and, not needing to
+      forget it&mdash;thus are our brains fashioned&mdash;she was able to forget
+      it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But by removal of one load her soul was but bared for a more grievous
+      other. Her memory harked back to what had preceded the crisis. She
+      recalled those moments of doomed rapture in which her heart had soared up
+      to the apocalyptic window&mdash;recalled how, all the while she was
+      speaking to the man there, she had been chafed by the inadequacy of
+      language. Oh, how much more she had meant than she could express! Oh, the
+      ecstasy of that self-surrender! And the brevity of it! the sudden odious
+      awakening! Thrice in this Oxford she had been duped. Thrice all that was
+      fine and sweet in her had leapt forth, only to be scourged back into
+      hiding. Poor heart inhibited! She gazed about her. The stone alley she had
+      come into, the terrible shut gate, were for her a visible symbol of the
+      destiny she had to put up with. Wringing her hands, she hastened along the
+      way she had come. She vowed she would never again set foot in Oxford. She
+      wished herself out of the hateful little city to-night. She even wished
+      herself dead.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She deserved to suffer, you say? Maybe. I merely state that she did
+      suffer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Emerging into Catherine Street, she knew whereabouts she was, and made
+      straight for Judas, turning away her eyes as she skirted the Broad, that
+      place of mocked hopes and shattered ideals.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Coming into Judas Street, she remembered the scene of yesterday&mdash;the
+      happy man with her, the noise of the vast happy crowd. She suffered in a
+      worse form what she had suffered in the gallery of the Hall. For now&mdash;did
+      I not say she was not without imagination?&mdash;her self-pity was
+      sharpened by remorse for the hundreds of homes robbed. She realised the
+      truth of what the poor Duke had once said to her: she was a danger in the
+      world... Aye, and all the more dire now. What if the youth of all Europe
+      were moved by Oxford&rsquo;s example? That was a horribly possible thing. It
+      must be reckoned with. It must be averted. She must not show herself to
+      men. She must find some hiding-place, and there abide. Were this a
+      hardship? she asked herself. Was she not sickened for ever of men&rsquo;s
+      homage? And was it not clear now that the absorbing need in her soul, the
+      need to love, would never&mdash;except for a brief while, now and then,
+      and by an unfortunate misunderstanding&mdash;be fulfilled?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So long ago that you may not remember, I compared her favourably with the
+      shepherdess Marcella, and pleaded her capacity for passion as an excuse
+      for her remaining at large. I hope you will now, despite your rather
+      evident animus against her, set this to her credit: that she did, so soon
+      as she realised the hopelessness of her case, make just that decision
+      which I blamed Marcella for not making at the outset. It was as she stood
+      on the Warden&rsquo;s door-step that she decided to take the veil.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      With something of a conventual hush in her voice, she said to the butler,
+      &ldquo;Please tell my maid that we are leaving by a very early train to-morrow,
+      and that she must pack my things to-night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well, Miss,&rdquo; said the butler. &ldquo;The Warden,&rdquo; he added, &ldquo;is in the
+      study, Miss, and was asking for you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She could face her grandfather without a tremour&mdash;now. She would hear
+      meekly whatever reproaches he might have for her, but their sting was
+      already drawn by the surprise she had in store for him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was he who seemed a trifle nervous. In his
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, did you come and peep down from the gallery?&rdquo; there was a distinct
+      tremour.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Throwing aside her cloak, she went quickly to him, and laid a hand on the
+      lapel of his coat. &ldquo;Poor grand-papa!&rdquo; she said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nonsense, my dear child,&rdquo; he replied, disengaging himself. &ldquo;I didn&rsquo;t give
+      it a thought. If the young men chose to be so silly as to stay away, I&mdash;I&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Grand-papa, haven&rsquo;t you been told YET?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Told? I am a Gallio for such follies. I didn&rsquo;t inquire.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But (forgive me, grand-papa, if I seem to you, for the moment, pert) you
+      are Warden here. It is your duty, even your privilege, to GUARD. Is it
+      not? Well, I grant you the adage that it is useless to bolt the stable
+      door when the horse has been stolen. But what shall be said of the ostler
+      who doesn&rsquo;t know&mdash;won&rsquo;t even &lsquo;inquire&rsquo; whether&mdash;the horse HAS
+      been stolen, grand-papa?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You speak in riddles, Zuleika.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wish with all my heart I need not tell you the answers. I think I have
+      a very real grievance against your staff&mdash;or whatever it is you call
+      your subordinates here. I go so far as to dub them dodderers. And I shall
+      the better justify that term by not shirking the duty they have left
+      undone. The reason why there were no undergraduates in your Hall to-night
+      is that they were all dead.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dead?&rdquo; he gasped. &ldquo;Dead? It is disgraceful that I was not told. What did
+      they die of?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. I am an epidemic, grand-papa, a scourge, such as the world has not
+      known. Those young men drowned themselves for love of me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He came towards her. &ldquo;Do you realise, girl, what this means to me? I am an
+      old man. For more than half a century I have known this College. To it,
+      when my wife died, I gave all that there was of heart left in me. For
+      thirty years I have been Warden; and in that charge has been all my pride.
+      I have had no thought but for this great College, its honour and
+      prosperity. More than once lately have I asked myself whether my eyes were
+      growing dim, my hand less steady. &lsquo;No&rsquo; was my answer, and again &lsquo;No.&rsquo; And
+      thus it is that I have lingered on to let Judas be struck down from its
+      high eminence, shamed in the eyes of England&mdash;a College for ever
+      tainted, and of evil omen.&rdquo; He raised his head. &ldquo;The disgrace to myself is
+      nothing. I care not how parents shall rage against me, and the Heads of
+      other Colleges make merry over my decrepitude. It is because you have
+      wrought the downfall of Judas that I am about to lay my undying curse on
+      you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You mustn&rsquo;t do that!&rdquo; she cried. &ldquo;It would be a sort of sacrilege. I am
+      going to be a nun. Besides, why should you? I can quite well understand
+      your feeling for Judas. But how is Judas more disgraced than any other
+      College? If it were only the Judas undergraduates who had&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There were others?&rdquo; cried the Warden. &ldquo;How many?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All. All the boys from all the Colleges.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Warden heaved a deep sigh. &ldquo;Of course,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;this changes the
+      aspect of the whole matter. I wish you had made it clear at once. You gave
+      me a very great shock,&rdquo; he said sinking into his arm-chair, &ldquo;and I have
+      not yet recovered. You must study the art of exposition.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That will depend on the rules of the convent.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, I forgot that you were going into a convent. Anglican, I hope?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Anglican, she supposed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As a young man,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I saw much of dear old Dr. Pusey. It might
+      have somewhat reconciled him to my marriage if he had known that my
+      grand-daughter would take the veil.&rdquo; He adjusted his glasses, and looked
+      at her. &ldquo;Are you sure you have a vocation?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. I want to be out of the world. I want to do no more harm.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He eyed her musingly. &ldquo;That,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;is rather a revulsion than a
+      vocation. I remember that I ventured to point out to Dr. Pusey the
+      difference between those two things, when he was almost persuading me to
+      enter a Brotherhood founded by one of his friends. It may be that the
+      world would be well rid of you, my dear child. But it is not the world
+      only that we must consider. Would you grace the recesses of the Church?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I could but try,&rdquo; said Zuleika.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;&lsquo;You could but try&rsquo; are the very words Dr. Pusey used to me. I ventured
+      to say that in such a matter effort itself was a stigma of unfitness. For
+      all my moods of revulsion, I knew that my place was in the world. I stayed
+      there.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But suppose, grand-papa&rdquo;&mdash;and, seeing in fancy the vast agitated
+      flotilla of crinolines, she could not forbear a smile&mdash;&ldquo;suppose all
+      the young ladies of that period had drowned themselves for love of you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Her smile seemed to nettle the Warden. &ldquo;I was greatly admired,&rdquo; he said.
+      &ldquo;Greatly,&rdquo; he repeated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you liked that, grand-papa?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, my dear. Yes, I am afraid I did. But I never encouraged it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your own heart was never touched?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never, until I met Laura Frith.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who was she?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She was my future wife.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And how was it you singled her out from the rest? Was she very
+      beautiful?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. It cannot be said that she was beautiful. Indeed, she was accounted
+      plain. I think it was her great dignity that attracted me. She did not
+      smile archly at me, nor shake her ringlets. In those days it was the
+      fashion for young ladies to embroider slippers for such men in holy orders
+      as best pleased their fancy. I received hundreds&mdash;thousands&mdash;of
+      such slippers. But never a pair from Laura Frith.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She did not love you?&rdquo; asked Zuleika, who had seated herself on the floor
+      at her grandfather&rsquo;s feet.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I concluded that she did not. It interested me very greatly. It fired me.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Was she incapable of love?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, it was notorious in her circle that she had loved often, but loved in
+      vain.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why did she marry you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think she was fatigued by my importunities. She was not very strong.
+      But it may be that she married me out of pique. She never told me. I did
+      not inquire.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yet you were very happy with her?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;While she lived, I was ideally happy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The young woman stretched out a hand, and laid it on the clasped hands of
+      the old man. He sat gazing into the past. She was silent for a while; and
+      in her eyes, still fixed intently on his face, there were tears.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Grand-papa dear&rdquo;&mdash;but there were tears in her voice, too.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My child, you don&rsquo;t understand. If I had needed pity&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do understand&mdash;so well. I wasn&rsquo;t pitying you, dear, I was envying
+      you a little.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Me?&mdash;an old man with only the remembrance of happiness?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You, who have had happiness granted to you. That isn&rsquo;t what made me cry,
+      though. I cried because I was glad. You and I, with all this great span of
+      years between us, and yet&mdash;so wonderfully alike! I had always thought
+      of myself as a creature utterly apart.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, that is how all young people think of themselves. It wears off. Tell
+      me about this wonderful resemblance of ours.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He sat attentive while she described her heart to him. But when, at the
+      close of her confidences, she said, &ldquo;So you see it&rsquo;s a case of sheer
+      heredity, grand-papa,&rdquo; the word &ldquo;Fiddlesticks!&rdquo; would out.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Forgive me, my dear,&rdquo; he said, patting her hand. &ldquo;I was very much
+      interested. But I do believe young people are even more staggered by
+      themselves than they were in my day. And then, all these grand theories
+      they fall back on! Heredity... as if there were something to baffle us in
+      the fact of a young woman liking to be admired! And as if it were passing
+      strange of her to reserve her heart for a man she can respect and look up
+      to! And as if a man&rsquo;s indifference to her were not of all things the
+      likeliest to give her a sense of inferiority to him! You and I, my dear,
+      may in some respects be very queer people, but in the matter of the
+      affections we are ordinary enough.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh grand-papa, do you really mean that?&rdquo; she cried eagerly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;At my age, a man husbands his resources. He says nothing that he does not
+      really mean. The indifference between you and other young women is that
+      which lay also between me and other young men: a special attractiveness...
+      Thousands of slippers, did I say? Tens of thousands. I had hoarded them
+      with a fatuous pride. On the evening of my betrothal I made a bonfire of
+      them, visible from three counties. I danced round it all night.&rdquo; And from
+      his old eyes darted even now the reflections of those flames.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Glorious!&rdquo; whispered Zuleika. &ldquo;But ah,&rdquo; she said, rising to her feet,
+      &ldquo;tell me no more of it&mdash;poor me! You see, it isn&rsquo;t a mere special
+      attractiveness that <i>I</i> have. <i>I</i> am irresistible.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A daring statement, my child&mdash;very hard to prove.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hasn&rsquo;t it been proved up to the hilt to-day?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To-day?... Ah, and so they did really all drown themselves for you?...
+      Dear, dear!... The Duke&mdash;he, too?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He set the example.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No! You don&rsquo;t say so! He was a greatly-gifted young man&mdash;a true
+      ornament to the College. But he always seemed to me rather&mdash;what
+      shall I say?&mdash;inhuman... I remember now that he did seem rather
+      excited when he came to the concert last night and you weren&rsquo;t yet
+      there... You are quite sure you were the cause of his death?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Quite,&rdquo; said Zuleika, marvelling at the lie&mdash;or fib, rather: he had
+      been GOING to die for her. But why not have told the truth? Was it
+      possible, she wondered, that her wretched vanity had survived her
+      renunciation of the world? Why had she so resented just now the doubt cast
+      on that irresistibility which had blighted and cranked her whole life?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, my dear,&rdquo; said the Warden, &ldquo;I confess that I am amazed&mdash;astounded.&rdquo;
+       Again he adjusted his glasses, and looked at her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She found herself moving slowly around the study, with the gait of a
+      mannequin in a dress-maker&rsquo;s show-room. She tried to stop this; but her
+      body seemed to be quite beyond control of her mind. It had the insolence
+      to go ambling on its own account. &ldquo;Little space you&rsquo;ll have in a convent
+      cell,&rdquo; snarled her mind vindictively. Her body paid no heed whatever.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her grandfather, leaning back in his chair, gazed at the ceiling, and
+      meditatively tapped the finger-tips of one hand against those of the
+      other. &ldquo;Sister Zuleika,&rdquo; he presently said to the ceiling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well? and what is there so&mdash;so ridiculous in&rdquo;&mdash;but the rest was
+      lost in trill after trill of laughter; and these were then lost in sobs.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Warden had risen from his chair. &ldquo;My dear,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I wasn&rsquo;t
+      laughing. I was only&mdash;trying to imagine. If you really want to retire
+      from&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do,&rdquo; moaned Zuleika.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then perhaps&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I don&rsquo;t,&rdquo; she wailed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course, you don&rsquo;t, my dear.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, of course?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come, you are tired, my poor child. That is very natural after this
+      wonderful, this historic day. Come dry your eyes. There, that&rsquo;s better.
+      To-morrow&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do believe you&rsquo;re a little proud of me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Heaven forgive me, I believe I am. A grandfather&rsquo;s heart&mdash;But there,
+      good night, my dear. Let me light your candle.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She took her cloak, and followed him out to the hall table. There she
+      mentioned that she was going away early to-morrow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To the convent?&rdquo; he slyly asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, don&rsquo;t tease me, grand-papa.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I am sorry you are going away, my dear. But perhaps, in the
+      circumstances, it is best. You must come and stay here again, later on,&rdquo;
+       he said, handing her the lit candle. &ldquo;Not in term-time, though,&rdquo; he added.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; she echoed, &ldquo;not in term-time.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0026" id="link2H_4_0026">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XXIV
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      From the shifting gloom of the stair-case to the soft radiance cast
+      through the open door of her bedroom was for poor Zuleika an almost
+      heartening transition. She stood awhile on the threshold, watching
+      Melisande dart to and fro like a shuttle across a loom. Already the main
+      part of the packing seemed to have been accomplished. The wardrobe was a
+      yawning void, the carpet was here and there visible, many of the trunks
+      were already brimming and foaming over... Once more on the road! Somewhat
+      as, when beneath the stars the great tent had been struck, and the lions
+      were growling in their vans, and the horses were pawing the stamped grass
+      and whinnying, and the elephants trumpeting, Zuleika&rsquo;s mother may often
+      have felt within her a wan exhilaration, so now did the heart of that
+      mother&rsquo;s child rise and flutter amidst the familiar bustle of &ldquo;being off.&rdquo;
+       Weary she was of the world, and angry she was at not being, after all,
+      good enough for something better. And yet&mdash;well, at least, good-bye
+      to Oxford!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She envied Melisande, so nimbly and cheerfully laborious till the day
+      should come when her betrothed had saved enough to start a little cafe of
+      his own and make her his bride and dame de comptoir. Oh, to have a
+      purpose, a prospect, a stake in the world, as this faithful soul had!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Can I help you at all, Melisande?&rdquo; she asked, picking her way across the
+      strewn floor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Melisande, patting down a pile of chiffon, seemed to be amused at such a
+      notion. &ldquo;Mademoiselle has her own art. Do I mix myself in that?&rdquo; she
+      cried, waving one hand towards the great malachite casket.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Zuleika looked at the casket, and then very gratefully at the maid. Her
+      art&mdash;how had she forgotten that? Here was solace, purpose. She would
+      work as she had never worked yet. She KNEW that she had it in her to do
+      better than she had ever done. She confessed to herself that she had too
+      often been slack in the matter of practice and rehearsal, trusting her
+      personal magnetism to carry her through. Only last night she had badly
+      fumbled, more than once. Her bravura business with the Demon Egg-Cup had
+      been simply vile. The audience hadn&rsquo;t noticed it, perhaps, but she had.
+      Now she would perfect herself. Barely a fortnight now before her
+      engagement at the Folies Bergeres! What if&mdash;no, she must not think of
+      that! But the thought insisted. What if she essayed for Paris that which
+      again and again she had meant to graft on to her repertory&mdash;the
+      Provoking Thimble?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She flushed at the possibility. What if her whole present repertory were
+      but a passing phase in her art&mdash;a mere beginning&mdash;an earlier
+      manner? She remembered how marvellously last night she had manipulated the
+      ear-rings and the studs. Then lo! the light died out of her eyes, and her
+      face grew rigid. That memory had brought other memories in its wake.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For her, when she fled the Broad, Noaks&rsquo; window had blotted out all else.
+      Now she saw again that higher window, saw that girl flaunting her
+      ear-rings, gibing down at her. &ldquo;He put them in with his own hands!&rdquo;&mdash;the
+      words rang again in her ears, making her cheeks tingle. Oh, he had thought
+      it a very clever thing to do, no doubt&mdash;a splendid little revenge,
+      something after his own heart! &ldquo;And he kissed me in the open street&rdquo;&mdash;excellent,
+      excellent! She ground her teeth. And these doings must have been fresh in
+      his mind when she overtook him and walked with him to the house-boat!
+      Infamous! And she had then been wearing his studs! She drew his attention
+      to them when&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her jewel-box stood open, to receive the jewels she wore to-night. She
+      went very calmly to it. There, in a corner of the topmost tray, rested the
+      two great white pearls&mdash;the pearls which, in one way and another, had
+      meant so much to her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Melisande!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mademoiselle?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When we go to Paris, would you like to make a little present to your
+      fiance?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Je voudrais bien, mademoiselle.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then you shall give him these,&rdquo; said Zuleika, holding out the two studs.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mais jamais de la vie! Chez Tourtel tout le monde le dirait millionaire.
+      Un garcon de cafe qui porte au plastron des perles pareilles&mdash;merci!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell him he may tell every one that they were given to me by the late
+      Duke of Dorset, and given by me to you, and by you to him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mais&mdash;&rdquo; The protest died on Melisande&rsquo;s lips. Suddenly she had
+      ceased to see the pearls as trinkets finite and inapposite&mdash;saw them
+      as things presently transmutable into little marble tables, bocks,
+      dominos, absinthes au sucre, shiny black portfolios with weekly journals
+      in them, yellow staves with daily journals flapping from them, vermouths
+      secs, vermouths cassis...
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mademoiselle is too amiable,&rdquo; she said, taking the pearls.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And certainly, just then, Zuleika was looking very amiable indeed. The
+      look was transient. Nothing, she reflected, could undo what the Duke had
+      done. That hateful, impudent girl would take good care that every one
+      should know. &ldquo;He put them in with his own hands.&rdquo; HER ear-rings! &ldquo;He
+      kissed me in the public street. He loved me&rdquo;... Well, he had called out
+      &ldquo;Zuleika!&rdquo; and every one around had heard him. That was something. But how
+      glad all the old women in the world would be to shake their heads and say
+      &ldquo;Oh, no, my dear, believe me! It wasn&rsquo;t anything to do with HER. I&rsquo;m told
+      on the very best authority,&rdquo; and so forth, and so on. She knew he had told
+      any number of undergraduates he was going to die for her. But they, poor
+      fellows, could not bear witness. And good heavens! If there were a doubt
+      as to the Duke&rsquo;s motive, why not doubts as to theirs?... But many of them
+      had called out &ldquo;Zuleika!&rdquo; too. And of course any really impartial person
+      who knew anything at all about the matter at first hand would be sure in
+      his own mind that it was perfectly absurd to pretend that the whole thing
+      wasn&rsquo;t entirely and absolutely for her... And of course some of the men
+      must have left written evidence of their intention. She remembered that at
+      The MacQuern&rsquo;s to-day was a Mr. Craddock, who had made a will in her
+      favour and wanted to read it aloud to her in the middle of luncheon. Oh,
+      there would be proof positive as to many of the men. But of the others it
+      would be said that they died in trying to rescue their comrades. There
+      would be all sorts of silly far-fetched theories, and downright lies that
+      couldn&rsquo;t be disproved...
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Melisande, that crackling of tissue paper is driving me mad! Do leave
+      off! Can&rsquo;t you see that I am waiting to be undressed?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The maid hastened to her side, and with quick light fingers began to
+      undress her. &ldquo;Mademoiselle va bien dormir&mdash;ca se voit,&rdquo; she purred.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shan&rsquo;t,&rdquo; said Zuleika.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Nevertheless, it was soothing to be undressed, and yet more soothing anon
+      to sit merely night-gowned before the mirror, while, slowly and gently,
+      strongly and strand by strand, Melisande brushed her hair.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After all, it didn&rsquo;t so much matter what the world thought. Let the world
+      whisper and insinuate what it would. To slur and sully, to belittle and
+      drag down&mdash;that was what the world always tried to do. But great
+      things were still great, and fair things still fair. With no thought for
+      the world&rsquo;s opinion had these men gone down to the water to-day. Their
+      deed was for her and themselves alone. It had sufficed them. Should it not
+      suffice her? It did, oh it did. She was a wretch to have repined.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At a gesture from her, Melisande brought to a close the rhythmical
+      ministrations, and&mdash;using no tissue paper this time&mdash;did what
+      was yet to be done among the trunks.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;WE know, you and I,&rdquo; Zuleika whispered to the adorable creature in the
+      mirror; and the adorable creature gave back her nod and smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      THEY knew, these two.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Yet, in their happiness, rose and floated a shadow between them. It was
+      the ghost of that one man who&mdash;THEY knew&mdash;had died irrelevantly,
+      with a cold heart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Came also the horrid little ghost of one who had died late and unseemly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And now, thick and fast, swept a whole multitude of other ghosts, the
+      ghosts of all them who, being dead, could not die again; the poor ghosts
+      of them who had done what they could, and could do no more.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      No more? Was it not enough? The lady in the mirror gazed at the lady in
+      the room, reproachfully at first, then&mdash;for were they not sisters?&mdash;relentingly,
+      then pityingly. Each of the two covered her face with her hands.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And there recurred, as by stealth, to the lady in the room a thought that
+      had assailed her not long ago in Judas Street... a thought about the power
+      of example...
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And now, with pent breath and fast-beating heart, she stood staring at the
+      lady of the mirror, without seeing her; and now she wheeled round and
+      swiftly glided to that little table on which stood her two books. She
+      snatched Bradshaw.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      We always intervene between Bradshaw and any one whom we see consulting
+      him. &ldquo;Mademoiselle will permit me to find that which she seeks?&rdquo; asked
+      Melisande.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Be quiet,&rdquo; said Zuleika. We always repulse, at first, any one who
+      intervenes between us and Bradshaw.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      We always end by accepting the intervention. &ldquo;See if it is possible to go
+      direct from here to Cambridge,&rdquo; said Zuleika, handing the book on. &ldquo;If it
+      isn&rsquo;t, then&mdash;well, see how to get there.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      We never have any confidence in the intervener. Nor is the intervener,
+      when it comes to the point, sanguine. With mistrust mounting to
+      exasperation Zuleika sat watching the faint and frantic researches of her
+      maid.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stop!&rdquo; she said suddenly. &ldquo;I have a much better idea. Go down very early
+      to the station. See the station-master. Order me a special train. For ten
+      o&rsquo;clock, say.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Rising, she stretched her arms above her head. Her lips parted in a yawn,
+      met in a smile. With both hands she pushed back her hair from her
+      shoulders, and twisted it into a loose knot. Very lightly she slipped up
+      into bed, and very soon she was asleep.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+
+
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+</html>
diff --git a/1845.txt b/1845.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b3c314b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/1845.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,9019 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Zuleika Dobson, by Max Beerbohm
+
+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 www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Zuleika Dobson
+       or, An Oxford Love Story
+
+Author: Max Beerbohm
+
+Posting Date: November 25, 2008 [EBook #1845]
+Release Date: August, 1999
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ZULEIKA DOBSON ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Judy Boss
+
+
+
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+or, AN OXFORD LOVE STORY
+
+By Max Beerbohm
+
+
+
+
+
+         NOTE to the 1922 edition
+
+         I was in Italy when this book was first published.
+         A year later (1912) I visited London, and I found
+         that most of my friends and acquaintances spoke to
+         me of Zu-like-a--a name which I hardly recognised
+         and thoroughly disapproved. I had always thought
+         of the lady as Zu-leek-a. Surely it was thus that
+         Joseph thought of his Wife, and Selim of his Bride?
+         And I do hope that it is thus that any reader of
+         these pages will think of Miss Dobson.
+
+                                              M.B.
+                                              Rapallo, 1922.
+
+
+
+
+ILLI ALMAE MATRI
+
+
+
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+
+
+
+I
+
+That old bell, presage of a train, had just sounded through Oxford
+station; and the undergraduates who were waiting there, gay figures in
+tweed or flannel, moved to the margin of the platform and gazed idly
+up the line. Young and careless, in the glow of the afternoon sunshine,
+they struck a sharp note of incongruity with the worn boards they stood
+on, with the fading signals and grey eternal walls of that antique
+station, which, familiar to them and insignificant, does yet whisper to
+the tourist the last enchantments of the Middle Age.
+
+At the door of the first-class waiting-room, aloof and venerable, stood
+the Warden of Judas. An ebon pillar of tradition seemed he, in his garb
+of old-fashioned cleric. Aloft, between the wide brim of his silk hat
+and the white extent of his shirt-front, appeared those eyes which
+hawks, that nose which eagles, had often envied. He supported his years
+on an ebon stick. He alone was worthy of the background.
+
+Came a whistle from the distance. The breast of an engine was descried,
+and a long train curving after it, under a flight of smoke. It grew
+and grew. Louder and louder, its noise foreran it. It became a furious,
+enormous monster, and, with an instinct for safety, all men receded
+from the platform's margin. (Yet came there with it, unknown to them,
+a danger far more terrible than itself.) Into the station it came
+blustering, with cloud and clangour. Ere it had yet stopped, the door of
+one carriage flew open, and from it, in a white travelling dress, in a
+toque a-twinkle with fine diamonds, a lithe and radiant creature slipped
+nimbly down to the platform.
+
+A cynosure indeed! A hundred eyes were fixed on her, and half as many
+hearts lost to her. The Warden of Judas himself had mounted on his nose
+a pair of black-rimmed glasses. Him espying, the nymph darted in his
+direction. The throng made way for her. She was at his side.
+
+"Grandpapa!" she cried, and kissed the old man on either cheek. (Not a
+youth there but would have bartered fifty years of his future for that
+salute.)
+
+"My dear Zuleika," he said, "welcome to Oxford! Have you no luggage?"
+
+"Heaps!" she answered. "And a maid who will find it."
+
+"Then," said the Warden, "let us drive straight to College." He offered
+her his arm, and they proceeded slowly to the entrance. She chatted
+gaily, blushing not in the long avenue of eyes she passed through. All
+the youths, under her spell, were now quite oblivious of the relatives
+they had come to meet. Parents, sisters, cousins, ran unclaimed about
+the platform. Undutiful, all the youths were forming a serried suite to
+their enchantress. In silence they followed her. They saw her leap into
+the Warden's landau, they saw the Warden seat himself upon her left. Nor
+was it until the landau was lost to sight that they turned--how slowly,
+and with how bad a grace!--to look for their relatives.
+
+Through those slums which connect Oxford with the world, the landau
+rolled on towards Judas. Not many youths occurred, for nearly all--it
+was the Monday of Eights Week--were down by the river, cheering the
+crews. There did, however, come spurring by, on a polo-pony, a very
+splendid youth. His straw hat was encircled with a riband of blue and
+white, and he raised it to the Warden.
+
+"That," said the Warden, "is the Duke of Dorset, a member of my College.
+He dines at my table to-night."
+
+Zuleika, turning to regard his Grace, saw that he had not reined in and
+was not even glancing back at her over his shoulder. She gave a little
+start of dismay, but scarcely had her lips pouted ere they curved to a
+smile--a smile with no malice in its corners.
+
+As the landau rolled into "the Corn," another youth--a pedestrian, and
+very different--saluted the Warden. He wore a black jacket, rusty and
+amorphous. His trousers were too short, and he himself was too short:
+almost a dwarf. His face was as plain as his gait was undistinguished.
+He squinted behind spectacles.
+
+"And who is that?" asked Zuleika.
+
+A deep flush overspread the cheek of the Warden. "That," he said, "is
+also a member of Judas. His name, I believe, is Noaks."
+
+"Is he dining with us to-night?" asked Zuleika.
+
+"Certainly not," said the Warden. "Most decidedly not."
+
+Noaks, unlike the Duke, had stopped for an ardent retrospect. He gazed
+till the landau was out of his short sight; then, sighing, resumed his
+solitary walk.
+
+The landau was rolling into "the Broad," over that ground which had once
+blackened under the fagots lit for Latimer and Ridley. It rolled past
+the portals of Balliol and of Trinity, past the Ashmolean. From those
+pedestals which intersperse the railing of the Sheldonian, the high
+grim busts of the Roman Emperors stared down at the fair stranger in
+the equipage. Zuleika returned their stare with but a casual glance. The
+inanimate had little charm for her.
+
+A moment later, a certain old don emerged from Blackwell's, where he had
+been buying books. Looking across the road, he saw, to his amazement,
+great beads of perspiration glistening on the brows of those Emperors.
+He trembled, and hurried away. That evening, in Common Room, he told
+what he had seen; and no amount of polite scepticism would convince him
+that it was but the hallucination of one who had been reading too much
+Mommsen. He persisted that he had seen what he described. It was not
+until two days had elapsed that some credence was accorded him.
+
+Yes, as the landau rolled by, sweat started from the brows of the
+Emperors. They, at least, foresaw the peril that was overhanging Oxford,
+and they gave such warning as they could. Let that be remembered to
+their credit. Let that incline us to think more gently of them. In their
+lives we know, they were infamous, some of them--"nihil non commiserunt
+stupri, saevitiae, impietatis." But are they too little punished, after
+all? Here in Oxford, exposed eternally and inexorably to heat and frost,
+to the four winds that lash them and the rains that wear them away, they
+are expiating, in effigy, the abominations of their pride and cruelty
+and lust. Who were lechers, they are without bodies; who were tyrants,
+they are crowned never but with crowns of snow; who made themselves even
+with the gods, they are by American visitors frequently mistaken for
+the Twelve Apostles. It is but a little way down the road that the two
+Bishops perished for their faith, and even now we do never pass the spot
+without a tear for them. Yet how quickly they died in the flames! To
+these Emperors, for whom none weeps, time will give no surcease. Surely,
+it is sign of some grace in them that they rejoiced not, this bright
+afternoon, in the evil that was to befall the city of their penance.
+
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+The sun streamed through the bay-window of a "best" bedroom in the
+Warden's house, and glorified the pale crayon-portraits on the wall,
+the dimity curtains, the old fresh chintz. He invaded the many trunks
+which--all painted Z. D.--gaped, in various stages of excavation, around
+the room. The doors of the huge wardrobe stood, like the doors of
+Janus' temple in time of war, majestically open; and the sun seized this
+opportunity of exploring the mahogany recesses. But the carpet, which
+had faded under his immemorial visitations, was now almost ENTIRELY
+hidden from him, hidden under layers of fair fine linen, layers of
+silk, brocade, satin, chiffon, muslin. All the colours of the rainbow,
+materialised by modistes, were there. Stacked on chairs were I know not
+what of sachets, glove-cases, fan-cases. There were innumerable packages
+in silver-paper and pink ribands. There was a pyramid of bandboxes.
+There was a virgin forest of boot-trees. And rustling quickly hither and
+thither, in and out of this profusion, with armfuls of finery, was an
+obviously French maid. Alert, unerring, like a swallow she dipped and
+darted. Nothing escaped her, and she never rested. She had the air of
+the born unpacker--swift and firm, yet withal tender. Scarce had her
+arms been laden but their loads were lying lightly between shelves or
+tightly in drawers. To calculate, catch, distribute, seemed in her but a
+single process. She was one of those who are born to make chaos cosmic.
+
+Insomuch that ere the loud chapel-clock tolled another hour all the
+trunks had been sent empty away. The carpet was unflecked by any scrap
+of silver-paper. From the mantelpiece, photographs of Zuleika surveyed
+the room with a possessive air. Zuleika's pincushion, a-bristle with
+new pins, lay on the dimity-flounced toilet-table, and round it stood
+a multitude of multiform glass vessels, domed, all of them, with dull
+gold, on which Z. D., in zianites and diamonds, was encrusted. On
+a small table stood a great casket of malachite, initialled in like
+fashion. On another small table stood Zuleika's library. Both books were
+in covers of dull gold. On the back of one cover BRADSHAW, in beryls,
+was encrusted; on the back of the other, A.B.C. GUIDE, in amethysts,
+beryls, chrysoprases, and garnets. And Zuleika's great cheval-glass
+stood ready to reflect her. Always it travelled with her, in a great
+case specially made for it. It was framed in ivory, and of fluted ivory
+were the slim columns it swung between. Of gold were its twin sconces,
+and four tall tapers stood in each of them.
+
+The door opened, and the Warden, with hospitable words, left his
+grand-daughter at the threshold.
+
+Zuleika wandered to her mirror. "Undress me, Melisande," she said. Like
+all who are wont to appear by night before the public, she had the habit
+of resting towards sunset.
+
+Presently Melisande withdrew. Her mistress, in a white peignoir tied
+with a blue sash, lay in a great chintz chair, gazing out of the
+bay-window. The quadrangle below was very beautiful, with its walls of
+rugged grey, its cloisters, its grass carpet. But to her it was of no
+more interest than if it had been the rattling court-yard to one of
+those hotels in which she spent her life. She saw it, but heeded it not.
+She seemed to be thinking of herself, or of something she desired, or of
+some one she had never met. There was ennui, and there was wistfulness,
+in her gaze. Yet one would have guessed these things to be transient--to
+be no more than the little shadows that sometimes pass between a bright
+mirror and the brightness it reflects.
+
+Zuleika was not strictly beautiful. Her eyes were a trifle large, and
+their lashes longer than they need have been. An anarchy of small curls
+was her chevelure, a dark upland of misrule, every hair asserting its
+rights over a not discreditable brow. For the rest, her features were
+not at all original. They seemed to have been derived rather from a
+gallimaufry of familiar models. From Madame la Marquise de Saint-Ouen
+came the shapely tilt of the nose. The mouth was a mere replica of
+Cupid's bow, lacquered scarlet and strung with the littlest pearls.
+No apple-tree, no wall of peaches, had not been robbed, nor any Tyrian
+rose-garden, for the glory of Miss Dobson's cheeks. Her neck was
+imitation-marble. Her hands and feet were of very mean proportions. She
+had no waist to speak of.
+
+Yet, though a Greek would have railed at her asymmetry, and an
+Elizabethan have called her "gipsy," Miss Dobson now, in the midst of
+the Edwardian Era, was the toast of two hemispheres. Late in her 'teens
+she had become an orphan and a governess. Her grandfather had refused
+her appeal for a home or an allowance, on the ground that he would not
+be burdened with the upshot of a marriage which he had once forbidden
+and not yet forgiven. Lately, however, prompted by curiosity or by
+remorse, he had asked her to spend a week or so of his declining
+years with him. And she, "resting" between two engagements--one at
+Hammerstein's Victoria, N.Y.C., the other at the Folies Bergeres,
+Paris--and having never been in Oxford, had so far let bygones be
+bygones as to come and gratify the old man's whim.
+
+It may be that she still resented his indifference to those early
+struggles which, even now, she shuddered to recall. For a governess'
+life she had been, indeed, notably unfit. Hard she had thought it, that
+penury should force her back into the school-room she was scarce out of,
+there to champion the sums and maps and conjugations she had never
+tried to master. Hating her work, she had failed signally to pick up
+any learning from her little pupils, and had been driven from house
+to house, a sullen and most ineffectual maiden. The sequence of her
+situations was the swifter by reason of her pretty face. Was there a
+grown-up son, always he fell in love with her, and she would let his
+eyes trifle boldly with hers across the dinner-table. When he offered
+her his hand, she would refuse it--not because she "knew her place,"
+but because she did not love him. Even had she been a good teacher, her
+presence could not have been tolerated thereafter. Her corded trunk,
+heavier by another packet of billets-doux and a month's salary in
+advance, was soon carried up the stairs of some other house.
+
+It chanced that she came, at length, to be governess in a large family
+that had Gibbs for its name and Notting Hill for its background. Edward,
+the eldest son, was a clerk in the city, who spent his evenings in the
+practice of amateur conjuring. He was a freckled youth, with hair that
+bristled in places where it should have lain smooth, and he fell in love
+with Zuleika duly, at first sight, during high-tea. In the course of the
+evening, he sought to win her admiration by a display of all his tricks.
+These were familiar to this household, and the children had been sent
+to bed, the mother was dozing, long before the seance was at an end. But
+Miss Dobson, unaccustomed to any gaieties, sat fascinated by the young
+man's sleight of hand, marvelling that a top-hat could hold so many
+goldfish, and a handkerchief turn so swiftly into a silver florin. All
+that night, she lay wide awake, haunted by the miracles he had wrought.
+Next evening, when she asked him to repeat them, "Nay," he whispered,
+"I cannot bear to deceive the girl I love. Permit me to explain the
+tricks." So he explained them. His eyes sought hers across the bowl of
+gold-fish, his fingers trembled as he taught her to manipulate the magic
+canister. One by one, she mastered the paltry secrets. Her respect for
+him waned with every revelation. He complimented her on her skill. "I
+could not do it more neatly myself!" he said. "Oh, dear Miss Dobson,
+will you but accept my hand, all these things shall be yours--the cards,
+the canister, the goldfish, the demon egg-cup--all yours!" Zuleika,
+with ravishing coyness, answered that if he would give her them now, she
+would "think it over." The swain consented, and at bed-time she
+retired with the gift under her arm. In the light of her bedroom candle
+Marguerite hung not in greater ecstasy over the jewel-casket than
+hung Zuleika over the box of tricks. She clasped her hands over the
+tremendous possibilities it held for her--manumission from her bondage,
+wealth, fame, power. Stealthily, so soon as the house slumbered,
+she packed her small outfit, embedding therein the precious gift.
+Noiselessly, she shut the lid of her trunk, corded it, shouldered it,
+stole down the stairs with it. Outside--how that chain had grated!
+and her shoulder, how it was aching!--she soon found a cab. She took
+a night's sanctuary in some railway-hotel. Next day, she moved into
+a small room in a lodging-house off the Edgware Road, and there for
+a whole week she was sedulous in the practice of her tricks. Then she
+inscribed her name on the books of a "Juvenile Party Entertainments
+Agency."
+
+The Christmas holidays were at hand, and before long she got an
+engagement. It was a great evening for her. Her repertory was, it must
+be confessed, old and obvious; but the children, in deference to their
+hostess, pretended not to know how the tricks were done, and assumed
+their prettiest airs of wonder and delight. One of them even pretended
+to be frightened, and was led howling from the room. In fact, the whole
+thing went off splendidly. The hostess was charmed, and told Zuleika
+that a glass of lemonade would be served to her in the hall. Other
+engagements soon followed. Zuleika was very, very happy. I cannot claim
+for her that she had a genuine passion for her art. The true conjurer
+finds his guerdon in the consciousness of work done perfectly and for
+its own sake. Lucre and applause are not necessary to him. If he were
+set down, with the materials of his art, on a desert island, he would
+yet be quite happy. He would not cease to produce the barber's-pole from
+his mouth. To the indifferent winds he would still speak his patter, and
+even in the last throes of starvation would not eat his live rabbit or
+his gold-fish. Zuleika, on a desert island, would have spent most of her
+time in looking for a man's foot-print. She was, indeed, far too human
+a creature to care much for art. I do not say that she took her work
+lightly. She thought she had genius, and she liked to be told that this
+was so. But mainly she loved her work as a means of mere self-display.
+The frank admiration which, into whatsoever house she entered, the
+grown-up sons flashed on her; their eagerness to see her to the door;
+their impressive way of putting her into her omnibus--these were the
+things she revelled in. She was a nymph to whom men's admiration was the
+greater part of life. By day, whenever she went into the streets,
+she was conscious that no man passed her without a stare; and this
+consciousness gave a sharp zest to her outings. Sometimes she was
+followed to her door--crude flattery which she was too innocent to fear.
+Even when she went into the haberdasher's to make some little purchase
+of tape or riband, or into the grocer's--for she was an epicure in her
+humble way--to buy a tin of potted meat for her supper, the homage of
+the young men behind the counter did flatter and exhilarate her. As the
+homage of men became for her, more and more, a matter of course, the
+more subtly necessary was it to her happiness. The more she won of it,
+the more she treasured it. She was alone in the world, and it saved her
+from any moment of regret that she had neither home nor friends. For
+her the streets that lay around her had no squalor, since she paced them
+always in the gold nimbus of her fascinations. Her bedroom seemed not
+mean nor lonely to her, since the little square of glass, nailed above
+the wash-stand, was ever there to reflect her face. Thereinto, indeed,
+she was ever peering. She would droop her head from side to side, she
+would bend it forward and see herself from beneath her eyelashes, then
+tilt it back and watch herself over her supercilious chin. And she would
+smile, frown, pout, languish--let all the emotions hover upon her face;
+and always she seemed to herself lovelier than she had ever been.
+
+Yet was there nothing Narcissine in her spirit. Her love for her own
+image was not cold aestheticism. She valued that image not for its own
+sake, but for sake of the glory it always won for her. In the little
+remote music-hall, where she was soon appearing nightly as an "early
+turn," she reaped glory in a nightly harvest. She could feel that all
+the gallery-boys, because of her, were scornful of the sweethearts
+wedged between them, and she knew that she had but to say "Will any
+gentleman in the audience be so good as to lend me his hat?" for the
+stalls to rise as one man and rush towards the platform. But greater
+things were in store for her. She was engaged at two halls in the West
+End. Her horizon was fast receding and expanding. Homage became nightly
+tangible in bouquets, rings, brooches--things acceptable and (luckier
+than their donors) accepted. Even Sunday was not barren for Zuleika:
+modish hostesses gave her postprandially to their guests. Came that
+Sunday night, notanda candidissimo calculo! when she received certain
+guttural compliments which made absolute her vogue and enabled her to
+command, thenceforth, whatever terms she asked for.
+
+Already, indeed, she was rich. She was living at the most exorbitant
+hotel in all Mayfair. She had innumerable gowns and no necessity to buy
+jewels; and she also had, which pleased her most, the fine cheval-glass
+I have described. At the close of the Season, Paris claimed her for
+a month's engagement. Paris saw her and was prostrate. Boldini did a
+portrait of her. Jules Bloch wrote a song about her; and this, for a
+whole month, was howled up and down the cobbled alleys of Montmartre.
+And all the little dandies were mad for "la Zuleika." The jewellers
+of the Rue de la Paix soon had nothing left to put in their
+windows--everything had been bought for "la Zuleika." For a whole month,
+baccarat was not played at the Jockey Club--every member had succumbed
+to a nobler passion. For a whole month, the whole demi-monde was
+forgotten for one English virgin. Never, even in Paris, had a woman
+triumphed so. When the day came for her departure, the city wore such an
+air of sullen mourning as it had not worn since the Prussians marched to
+its Elysee. Zuleika, quite untouched, would not linger in the conquered
+city. Agents had come to her from every capital in Europe, and, for a
+year, she ranged, in triumphal nomady, from one capital to another. In
+Berlin, every night, the students escorted her home with torches. Prince
+Vierfuenfsechs-Siebenachtneun offered her his hand, and was condemned
+by the Kaiser to six months' confinement in his little castle. In Yildiz
+Kiosk, the tyrant who still throve there conferred on her the Order of
+Chastity, and offered her the central couch in his seraglio. She
+gave her performance in the Quirinal, and, from the Vatican, the Pope
+launched against her a Bull which fell utterly flat. In Petersburg, the
+Grand Duke Salamander Salamandrovitch fell enamoured of her. Of every
+article in the apparatus of her conjuring-tricks he caused a replica
+to be made in finest gold. These treasures he presented to her in that
+great malachite casket which now stood on the little table in her room;
+and thenceforth it was with these that she performed her wonders.
+They did not mark the limit of the Grand Duke's generosity. He was for
+bestowing on Zuleika the half of his immensurable estates. The Grand
+Duchess appealed to the Tzar. Zuleika was conducted across the frontier,
+by an escort of love-sick Cossacks. On the Sunday before she left
+Madrid, a great bull-fight was held in her honour. Fifteen bulls
+received the coup-de-grace, and Alvarez, the matador of matadors, died
+in the arena with her name on his lips. He had tried to kill the
+last bull without taking his eyes off la divina senorita. A prettier
+compliment had never been paid her, and she was immensely pleased with
+it. For that matter, she was immensely pleased with everything. She
+moved proudly to the incessant music of a paean, aye! of a paean that
+was always crescendo.
+
+Its echoes followed her when she crossed the Atlantic, till they were
+lost in the louder, deeper, more blatant paean that rose for her from
+the shores beyond. All the stops of that "mighty organ, many-piped," the
+New York press, were pulled out simultaneously, as far as they could be
+pulled, in Zuleika's honour. She delighted in the din. She read every
+line that was printed about her, tasting her triumph as she had never
+tasted it before. And how she revelled in the Brobdingnagian drawings of
+her, which, printed in nineteen colours, towered between the columns or
+sprawled across them! There she was, measuring herself back to back with
+the Statue of Liberty; scudding through the firmament on a comet,
+whilst a crowd of tiny men in evening-dress stared up at her from the
+terrestrial globe; peering through a microscope held by Cupid over a
+diminutive Uncle Sam; teaching the American Eagle to stand on its head;
+and doing a hundred-and-one other things--whatever suggested itself
+to the fancy of native art. And through all this iridescent maze of
+symbolism were scattered many little slabs of realism. At home, on the
+street, Zuleika was the smiling target of all snap-shooters, and all the
+snap-shots were snapped up by the press and reproduced with annotations:
+Zuleika Dobson walking on Broadway in the sables gifted her by Grand
+Duke Salamander--she says "You can bounce blizzards in them"; Zuleika
+Dobson yawning over a love-letter from millionaire Edelweiss; relishing
+a cup of clam-broth--she says "They don't use clams out there"; ordering
+her maid to fix her a warm bath; finding a split in the gloves she has
+just drawn on before starting for the musicale given in her honour by
+Mrs. Suetonius X. Meistersinger, the most exclusive woman in New York;
+chatting at the telephone to Miss Camille Van Spook, the best-born girl
+in New York; laughing over the recollection of a compliment made her by
+George Abimelech Post, the best-groomed man in New York; meditating a
+new trick; admonishing a waiter who has upset a cocktail over her skirt;
+having herself manicured; drinking tea in bed. Thus was Zuleika enabled
+daily to be, as one might say, a spectator of her own wonderful life.
+On her departure from New York, the papers spoke no more than the
+truth when they said she had had "a lovely time." The further she went
+West--millionaire Edelweiss had loaned her his private car--the lovelier
+her time was. Chicago drowned the echoes of New York; final Frisco
+dwarfed the headlines of Chicago. Like one of its own prairie-fires, she
+swept the country from end to end. Then she swept back, and sailed for
+England. She was to return for a second season in the coming Fall. At
+present, she was, as I have said, "resting."
+
+As she sat here in the bay-window of her room, she was not reviewing
+the splendid pageant of her past. She was a young person whose reveries
+never were in retrospect. For her the past was no treasury of distinct
+memories, all hoarded and classified, some brighter than others and more
+highly valued. All memories were for her but as the motes in one fused
+radiance that followed her and made more luminous the pathway of
+her future. She was always looking forward. She was looking forward
+now--that shade of ennui had passed from her face--to the week she was
+to spend in Oxford. A new city was a new toy to her, and--for it was
+youth's homage that she loved best--this city of youths was a toy after
+her own heart.
+
+Aye, and it was youths who gave homage to her most freely. She was
+of that high-stepping and flamboyant type that captivates youth most
+surely. Old men and men of middle age admired her, but she had not that
+flower-like quality of shyness and helplessness, that look of innocence,
+so dear to men who carry life's secrets in their heads. Yet Zuleika
+WAS very innocent, really. She was as pure as that young shepherdess
+Marcella, who, all unguarded, roved the mountains and was by all the
+shepherds adored. Like Marcella, she had given her heart to no man, had
+preferred none. Youths were reputed to have died for love of her,
+as Chrysostom died for love of the shepherdess; and she, like the
+shepherdess, had shed no tear. When Chrysostom was lying on his bier in
+the valley, and Marcella looked down from the high rock, Ambrosio,
+the dead man's comrade, cried out on her, upbraiding her with bitter
+words--"Oh basilisk of our mountains!" Nor do I think Ambrosio spoke too
+strongly. Marcella cared nothing for men's admiration, and yet, instead
+of retiring to one of those nunneries which are founded for her kind,
+she chose to rove the mountains, causing despair to all the shepherds.
+Zuleika, with her peculiar temperament, would have gone mad in a
+nunnery. "But," you may argue, "ought not she to have taken the veil,
+even at the cost of her reason, rather than cause so much despair in the
+world? If Marcella was a basilisk, as you seem to think, how about Miss
+Dobson?" Ah, but Marcella knew quite well, boasted even, that she never
+would or could love any man. Zuleika, on the other hand, was a woman of
+really passionate fibre. She may not have had that conscious, separate,
+and quite explicit desire to be a mother with which modern playwrights
+credit every unmated member of her sex. But she did know that she could
+love. And, surely, no woman who knows that of herself can be rightly
+censured for not recluding herself from the world: it is only women
+without the power to love who have no right to provoke men's love.
+
+Though Zuleika had never given her heart, strong in her were the desire
+and the need that it should be given. Whithersoever she had fared, she
+had seen nothing but youths fatuously prostrate to her--not one upright
+figure which she could respect. There were the middle-aged men, the old
+men, who did not bow down to her; but from middle-age, as from eld, she
+had a sanguine aversion. She could love none but a youth. Nor--though
+she herself, womanly, would utterly abase herself before her
+ideal--could she love one who fell prone before her. And before her all
+youths always did fall prone. She was an empress, and all youths were
+her slaves. Their bondage delighted her, as I have said. But no empress
+who has any pride can adore one of her slaves. Whom, then, could proud
+Zuleika adore? It was a question which sometimes troubled her. There
+were even moments when, looking into her cheval-glass, she cried out
+against that arrangement in comely lines and tints which got for her
+the dulia she delighted in. To be able to love once--would not that be
+better than all the homage in the world? But would she ever meet whom,
+looking up to him, she could love--she, the omnisubjugant? Would she
+ever, ever meet him?
+
+It was when she wondered thus, that the wistfulness came into her eyes.
+Even now, as she sat by the window, that shadow returned to them. She
+was wondering, shyly, had she met him at length? That young equestrian
+who had not turned to look at her; whom she was to meet at dinner
+to-night... was it he? The ends of her blue sash lay across her lap,
+and she was lazily unravelling their fringes. "Blue and white!" she
+remembered. "They were the colours he wore round his hat." And she gave
+a little laugh of coquetry. She laughed, and, long after, her lips were
+still parted in a smile.
+
+So did she sit, smiling, wondering, with the fringes of her sash
+between her fingers, while the sun sank behind the opposite wall of the
+quadrangle, and the shadows crept out across the grass, thirsty for the
+dew.
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+The clock in the Warden's drawing-room had just struck eight, and
+already the ducal feet were beautiful on the white bearskin hearthrug.
+So slim and long were they, of instep so nobly arched, that only with
+a pair of glazed ox-tongues on a breakfast-table were they comparable.
+Incomparable quite, the figure and face and vesture of him who ended in
+them.
+
+The Warden was talking to him, with all the deference of elderly
+commoner to patrician boy. The other guests--an Oriel don and his
+wife--were listening with earnest smile and submissive droop, at a
+slight distance. Now and again, to put themselves at their ease, they
+exchanged in undertone a word or two about the weather.
+
+"The young lady whom you may have noticed with me," the Warden was
+saying, "is my orphaned grand-daughter." (The wife of the Oriel don
+discarded her smile, and sighed, with a glance at the Duke, who was
+himself an orphan.) "She has come to stay with me." (The Duke glanced
+quickly round the room.) "I cannot think why she is not down yet." (The
+Oriel don fixed his eyes on the clock, as though he suspected it of
+being fast.) "I must ask you to forgive her. She appears to be a bright,
+pleasant young woman."
+
+"Married?" asked the Duke.
+
+"No," said the Warden; and a cloud of annoyance crossed the boy's face.
+"No; she devotes her life entirely to good works."
+
+"A hospital nurse?" the Duke murmured.
+
+"No, Zuleika's appointed task is to induce delightful wonder rather than
+to alleviate pain. She performs conjuring-tricks."
+
+"Not--not Miss Zuleika Dobson?" cried the Duke.
+
+"Ah yes. I forgot that she had achieved some fame in the outer world.
+Perhaps she has already met you?"
+
+"Never," said the young man coldly. "But of course I have heard of Miss
+Dobson. I did not know she was related to you."
+
+The Duke had an intense horror of unmarried girls. All his vacations
+were spent in eluding them and their chaperons. That he should be
+confronted with one of them--with such an one of them!--in Oxford,
+seemed to him sheer violation of sanctuary. The tone, therefore, in
+which he said "I shall be charmed," in answer to the Warden's request
+that he would take Zuleika into dinner, was very glacial. So was his
+gaze when, a moment later, the young lady made her entry.
+
+"She did not look like an orphan," said the wife of the Oriel don,
+subsequently, on the way home. The criticism was a just one. Zuleika
+would have looked singular in one of those lowly double-files of
+straw-bonnets and drab cloaks which are so steadying a feature of
+our social system. Tall and lissom, she was sheathed from the bosom
+downwards in flamingo silk, and she was liberally festooned with
+emeralds. Her dark hair was not even strained back from her forehead and
+behind her ears, as an orphan's should be. Parted somewhere at the side,
+it fell in an avalanche of curls upon one eyebrow. From her right
+ear drooped heavily a black pearl, from her left a pink; and their
+difference gave an odd, bewildering witchery to the little face between.
+
+Was the young Duke bewitched? Instantly, utterly. But none could
+have guessed as much from his cold stare, his easy and impassive bow.
+Throughout dinner, none guessed that his shirt-front was but the screen
+of a fierce warfare waged between pride and passion. Zuleika, at the
+foot of the table, fondly supposed him indifferent to her. Though he
+sat on her right, not one word or glance would he give her. All his
+conversation was addressed to the unassuming lady who sat on his other
+side, next to the Warden. Her he edified and flustered beyond measure
+by his insistent courtesy. Her husband, alone on the other side of
+the table, was mortified by his utter failure to engage Zuleika in
+small-talk. Zuleika was sitting with her profile turned to him--the
+profile with the pink pearl--and was gazing full at the young Duke. She
+was hardly more affable than a cameo. "Yes," "No," "I don't know,"
+were the only answers she would vouchsafe to his questions. A vague "Oh
+really?" was all he got for his timid little offerings of information.
+In vain he started the topic of modern conjuring-tricks as compared with
+the conjuring-tricks performed by the ancient Egyptians. Zuleika did not
+even say "Oh really?" when he told her about the metamorphosis of the
+bulls in the Temple of Osiris. He primed himself with a glass of sherry,
+cleared his throat. "And what," he asked, with a note of firmness, "did
+you think of our cousins across the water?" Zuleika said "Yes;" and
+then he gave in. Nor was she conscious that he ceased talking to her. At
+intervals throughout the rest of dinner, she murmured "Yes," and "No,"
+and "Oh really?" though the poor little don was now listening silently
+to the Duke and the Warden.
+
+She was in a trance of sheer happiness. At last, she thought, her hope
+was fulfilled--that hope which, although she had seldom remembered it in
+the joy of her constant triumphs, had been always lurking in her, lying
+near to her heart and chafing her, like the shift of sackcloth which
+that young brilliant girl, loved and lost of Giacopone di Todi, wore
+always in secret submission to her own soul, under the fair soft robes
+and the rubies men saw on her. At last, here was the youth who would not
+bow down to her; whom, looking up to him, she could adore. She ate and
+drank automatically, never taking her gaze from him. She felt not one
+touch of pique at his behaviour. She was tremulous with a joy that was
+new to her, greater than any joy she had known. Her soul was as a flower
+in its opetide. She was in love. Rapt, she studied every lineament of
+the pale and perfect face--the brow from which bronze-coloured hair rose
+in tiers of burnished ripples; the large steel-coloured eyes, with their
+carven lids; the carven nose, and the plastic lips. She noted how long
+and slim were his fingers, and how slender his wrists. She noted the
+glint cast by the candles upon his shirt-front. The two large white
+pearls there seemed to her symbols of his nature. They were like two
+moons: cold, remote, radiant. Even when she gazed at the Duke's face,
+she was aware of them in her vision.
+
+Nor was the Duke unconscious, as he seemed to be, of her scrutiny.
+Though he kept his head averse, he knew that always her eyes were
+watching him. Obliquely, he saw them; saw, too, the contour of the face,
+and the black pearl and the pink; could not blind himself, try as he
+would. And he knew that he was in love.
+
+Like Zuleika herself, this young Duke was in love for the first time.
+Wooed though he had been by almost as many maidens as she by youths, his
+heart, like hers, had remained cold. But he had never felt, as she
+had, the desire to love. He was not now rejoicing, as she was, in the
+sensation of first love; nay, he was furiously mortified by it, and
+struggled with all his might against it. He had always fancied himself
+secure against any so vulgar peril; always fancied that by him at least,
+the proud old motto of his family--"Pas si bete"--would not be belied.
+And I daresay, indeed, that had he never met Zuleika, the irresistible,
+he would have lived, and at a very ripe old age died, a dandy without
+reproach. For in him the dandiacal temper had been absolute hitherto,
+quite untainted and unruffled. He was too much concerned with his
+own perfection ever to think of admiring any one else. Different from
+Zuleika, he cared for his wardrobe and his toilet-table not as a means
+to making others admire him the more, but merely as a means through
+which he could intensify, a ritual in which to express and realise, his
+own idolatry. At Eton he had been called "Peacock," and this nick-name
+had followed him up to Oxford. It was not wholly apposite, however. For,
+whereas the peacock is a fool even among birds, the Duke had already
+taken (besides a particularly brilliant First in Mods) the Stanhope,
+the Newdigate, the Lothian, and the Gaisford Prize for Greek Verse. And
+these things he had achieved currente calamo, "wielding his pen," as
+Scott said of Byron, "with the easy negligence of a nobleman." He was
+now in his third year of residence, and was reading, a little, for
+Literae Humaniores. There is no doubt that but for his untimely death he
+would have taken a particularly brilliant First in that school also.
+
+For the rest, he had many accomplishments. He was adroit in the killing
+of all birds and fishes, stags and foxes. He played polo, cricket,
+racquets, chess, and billiards as well as such things can be played.
+He was fluent in all modern languages, had a very real talent in
+water-colour, and was accounted, by those who had had the privilege of
+hearing him, the best amateur pianist on this side of the Tweed. Little
+wonder, then, that he was idolised by the undergraduates of his day.
+He did not, however, honour many of them with his friendship. He had a
+theoretic liking for them as a class, as the "young barbarians all at
+play" in that little antique city; but individually they jarred on him,
+and he saw little of them. Yet he sympathised with them always, and, on
+occasion, would actively take their part against the dons. In the middle
+of his second year, he had gone so far that a College Meeting had to be
+held, and he was sent down for the rest of term. The Warden placed his
+own landau at the disposal of the illustrious young exile, who therein
+was driven to the station, followed by a long, vociferous procession
+of undergraduates in cabs. Now, it happened that this was a time of
+political excitement in London. The Liberals, who were in power,
+had passed through the House of Commons a measure more than usually
+socialistic; and this measure was down for its second reading in the
+Lords on the very day that the Duke left Oxford, an exile. It was but a
+few weeks since he had taken his seat in the Lords; and this afternoon,
+for the want of anything better to do, he strayed in. The Leader of the
+House was already droning his speech for the bill, and the Duke found
+himself on one of the opposite benches. There sat his compeers, sullenly
+waiting to vote for a bill which every one of them detested. As the
+speaker subsided, the Duke, for the fun of the thing, rose. He made
+a long speech against the bill. His gibes at the Government were so
+scathing, so utterly destructive his criticism of the bill itself, so
+lofty and so irresistible the flights of his eloquence, that, when he
+resumed his seat, there was only one course left to the Leader of the
+House. He rose and, in a few husky phrases, moved that the bill "be read
+this day six months." All England rang with the name of the young Duke.
+He himself seemed to be the one person unmoved by his exploit. He did
+not re-appear in the Upper Chamber, and was heard to speak in slighting
+terms of its architecture, as well as of its upholstery. Nevertheless,
+the Prime Minister became so nervous that he procured for him, a month
+later, the Sovereign's offer of a Garter which had just fallen vacant.
+The Duke accepted it. He was, I understand, the only undergraduate on
+whom this Order had ever been conferred. He was very much pleased with
+the insignia, and when, on great occasions, he wore them, no one dared
+say that the Prime Minister's choice was not fully justified. But you
+must not imagine that he cared for them as symbols of achievement and
+power. The dark blue riband, and the star scintillating to eight
+points, the heavy mantle of blue velvet, with its lining of taffeta
+and shoulder-knots of white satin, the crimson surcoat, the great
+embullioned tassels, and the chain of linked gold, and the plumes of
+ostrich and heron uprising from the black velvet hat--these things had
+for him little significance save as a fine setting, a finer setting than
+the most elaborate smoking-suit, for that perfection of aspect which
+the gods had given him. This was indeed the gift he valued beyond
+all others. He knew well, however, that women care little for a man's
+appearance, and that what they seek in a man is strength of character,
+and rank, and wealth. These three gifts the Duke had in a high degree,
+and he was by women much courted because of them. Conscious that every
+maiden he met was eager to be his Duchess, he had assumed always a
+manner of high austerity among maidens, and even if he had wished to
+flirt with Zuleika he would hardly have known how to do it. But he did
+not wish to flirt with her. That she had bewitched him did but make
+it the more needful that he should shun all converse with her. It was
+imperative that he should banish her from his mind, quickly. He must not
+dilute his own soul's essence. He must not surrender to any passion his
+dandihood. The dandy must be celibate, cloistral; is, indeed, but a monk
+with a mirror for beads and breviary--an anchorite, mortifying his soul
+that his body may be perfect. Till he met Zuleika, the Duke had not
+known the meaning of temptation. He fought now, a St. Anthony, against
+the apparition. He would not look at her, and he hated her. He loved
+her, and he could not help seeing her. The black pearl and the pink
+seemed to dangle ever nearer and clearer to him, mocking him and
+beguiling. Inexpellible was her image.
+
+So fierce was the conflict in him that his outward nonchalance gradually
+gave way. As dinner drew to its close, his conversation with the wife
+of the Oriel don flagged and halted. He sank, at length, into a deep
+silence. He sat with downcast eyes, utterly distracted.
+
+Suddenly, something fell, plump! into the dark whirlpool of his
+thoughts. He started. The Warden was leaning forward, had just said
+something to him.
+
+"I beg your pardon?" asked the Duke. Dessert, he noticed, was on the
+table, and he was paring an apple. The Oriel don was looking at him with
+sympathy, as at one who had swooned and was just "coming to."
+
+"Is it true, my dear Duke," the Warden repeated, "that you have been
+persuaded to play to-morrow evening at the Judas concert?"
+
+"Ah yes, I am going to play something."
+
+Zuleika bent suddenly forward, addressed him. "Oh," she cried, clasping
+her hands beneath her chin, "will you let me come and turn over the
+leaves for you?"
+
+He looked her full in the face. It was like seeing suddenly at close
+quarters some great bright monument that one has long known only as a
+sun-caught speck in the distance. He saw the large violet eyes open to
+him, and their lashes curling to him; the vivid parted lips; and the
+black pearl, and the pink.
+
+"You are very kind," he murmured, in a voice which sounded to him quite
+far away. "But I always play without notes."
+
+Zuleika blushed. Not with shame, but with delirious pleasure. For that
+snub she would just then have bartered all the homage she had hoarded.
+This, she felt, was the climax. She would not outstay it. She rose,
+smiling to the wife of the Oriel don. Every one rose. The Oriel don held
+open the door, and the two ladies passed out of the room.
+
+The Duke drew out his cigarette case. As he looked down at the
+cigarettes, he was vaguely conscious of some strange phenomenon
+somewhere between them and his eyes. Foredone by the agitation of the
+past hour, he did not at once realise what it was that he saw. His
+impression was of something in bad taste, some discord in his costume
+... a black pearl and a pink pearl in his shirt-front!
+
+Just for a moment, absurdly over-estimating poor Zuleika's skill, he
+supposed himself a victim of legerdemain. Another moment, and the import
+of the studs revealed itself. He staggered up from his chair, covering
+his breast with one arm, and murmured that he was faint. As he hurried
+from the room, the Oriel don was pouring out a tumbler of water and
+suggesting burnt feathers. The Warden, solicitous, followed him into
+the hall. He snatched up his hat, gasping that he had spent a delightful
+evening--was very sorry--was subject to these attacks. Once outside, he
+took frankly to his heels.
+
+At the corner of the Broad, he looked back over his shoulder. He had
+half expected a scarlet figure skimming in pursuit. There was nothing.
+He halted. Before him, the Broad lay empty beneath the moon. He went
+slowly, mechanically, to his rooms.
+
+The high grim busts of the Emperors stared down at him, their faces more
+than ever tragically cavernous and distorted. They saw and read in
+that moonlight the symbols on his breast. As he stood on his doorstep,
+waiting for the door to be opened, he must have seemed to them a thing
+for infinite compassion. For were they not privy to the doom that the
+morrow, or the morrow's morrow, held for him--held not indeed for him
+alone, yet for him especially, as it were, and for him most lamentably?
+
+
+
+
+IV
+
+The breakfast-things were not yet cleared away. A plate streaked with
+fine strains of marmalade, an empty toast-rack, a broken roll--these and
+other things bore witness to a day inaugurated in the right spirit.
+
+Away from them, reclining along his window-seat, was the Duke. Blue
+spirals rose from his cigarette, nothing in the still air to trouble
+them. From their railing, across the road, the Emperors gazed at him.
+
+For a young man, sleep is a sure solvent of distress. There whirls not
+for him in the night any so hideous a phantasmagoria as will not become,
+in the clarity of next morning, a spruce procession for him to lead.
+Brief the vague horror of his awakening; memory sweeps back to him,
+and he sees nothing dreadful after all. "Why not?" is the sun's bright
+message to him, and "Why not indeed?" his answer. After hours of
+agony and doubt prolonged to cock-crow, sleep had stolen to the Duke's
+bed-side. He awoke late, with a heavy sense of disaster; but lo! when he
+remembered, everything took on a new aspect. He was in love. "Why not?"
+He mocked himself for the morbid vigil he had spent in probing and
+vainly binding the wounds of his false pride. The old life was done
+with. He laughed as he stepped into his bath. Why should the disseizin
+of his soul have seemed shameful to him? He had had no soul till it
+passed out of his keeping. His body thrilled to the cold water, his soul
+as to a new sacrament. He was in love, and that was all he wished for...
+There, on the dressing-table, lay the two studs, visible symbols of his
+love. Dear to him, now, the colours of them! He took them in his hand,
+one by one, fondling them. He wished he could wear them in the day-time;
+but this, of course, was impossible. His toilet finished, he dropped
+them into the left pocket of his waistcoat.
+
+Therein, near to his heart, they were lying now, as he looked out at
+the changed world--the world that had become Zuleika. "Zuleika!" his
+recurrent murmur, was really an apostrophe to the whole world.
+
+Piled against the wall were certain boxes of black japanned tin, which
+had just been sent to him from London. At any other time he would
+certainly not have left them unopened. For they contained his robes of
+the Garter. Thursday, the day after to-morrow, was the date fixed for
+the investiture of a foreign king who was now visiting England: and the
+full chapter of Knights had been commanded to Windsor for the ceremony.
+Yesterday the Duke had looked keenly forward to his excursion. It was
+only in those too rarely required robes that he had the sense of being
+fully dressed. But to-day not a thought had he of them.
+
+Some clock clove with silver the stillness of the morning. Ere came the
+second stroke, another and nearer clock was striking. And now there were
+others chiming in. The air was confused with the sweet babel of its many
+spires, some of them booming deep, measured sequences, some tinkling
+impatiently and outwitting others which had begun before them. And when
+this anthem of jealous antiphonies and uneven rhythms had dwindled quite
+away and fainted in one last solitary note of silver, there started
+somewhere another sequence; and this, almost at its last stroke, was
+interrupted by yet another, which went on to tell the hour of noon in
+its own way, quite slowly and significantly, as though none knew it.
+
+And now Oxford was astir with footsteps and laughter--the laughter and
+quick footsteps of youths released from lecture-rooms. The Duke shifted
+from the window. Somehow, he did not care to be observed, though it was
+usually at this hour that he showed himself for the setting of some
+new fashion in costume. Many an undergraduate, looking up, missed the
+picture in the window-frame.
+
+The Duke paced to and fro, smiling ecstatically. He took the two studs
+from his pocket and gazed at them. He looked in the glass, as one
+seeking the sympathy of a familiar. For the first time in his life,
+he turned impatiently aside. It was a new kind of sympathy he needed
+to-day.
+
+The front door slammed, and the staircase creaked to the ascent of two
+heavy boots. The Duke listened, waited irresolute. The boots passed his
+door, were already clumping up the next flight. "Noaks!" he cried. The
+boots paused, then clumped down again. The door opened and disclosed
+that homely figure which Zuleika had seen on her way to Judas.
+
+Sensitive reader, start not at the apparition! Oxford is a plexus of
+anomalies. These two youths were (odd as it may seem to you) subject to
+the same Statutes, affiliated to the same College, reading for the same
+School; aye! and though the one had inherited half a score of noble and
+castellated roofs, whose mere repairs cost him annually thousands and
+thousands of pounds, and the other's people had but one little mean
+square of lead, from which the fireworks of the Crystal Palace were
+clearly visible every Thursday evening, in Oxford one roof sheltered
+both of them. Furthermore, there was even some measure of intimacy
+between them. It was the Duke's whim to condescend further in the
+direction of Noaks than in any other. He saw in Noaks his own foil and
+antithesis, and made a point of walking up the High with him at least
+once in every term. Noaks, for his part, regarded the Duke with feelings
+mingled of idolatry and disapproval. The Duke's First in Mods oppressed
+him (who, by dint of dogged industry, had scraped a Second) more than
+all the other differences between them. But the dullard's envy of
+brilliant men is always assuaged by the suspicion that they will come to
+a bad end. Noaks may have regarded the Duke as a rather pathetic figure,
+on the whole.
+
+"Come in, Noaks," said the Duke. "You have been to a lecture?"
+
+"Aristotle's Politics," nodded Noaks.
+
+"And what were they?" asked the Duke. He was eager for sympathy in his
+love. But so little used was he to seeking sympathy that he could not
+unburden himself. He temporised. Noaks muttered something about getting
+back to work, and fumbled with the door-handle.
+
+"Oh, my dear fellow, don't go," said the Duke. "Sit down. Our Schools
+don't come on for another year. A few minutes can't make a difference in
+your Class. I want to--to tell you something, Noaks. Do sit down."
+
+Noaks sat down on the edge of a chair. The Duke leaned against the
+mantel-piece, facing him. "I suppose, Noaks," he said, "you have never
+been in love."
+
+"Why shouldn't I have been in love?" asked the little man, angrily.
+
+"I can't imagine you in love," said the Duke, smiling.
+
+"And I can't imagine YOU. You're too pleased with yourself," growled
+Noaks.
+
+"Spur your imagination, Noaks," said his friend. "I AM in love."
+
+"So am I," was an unexpected answer, and the Duke (whose need of
+sympathy was too new to have taught him sympathy with others) laughed
+aloud. "Whom do you love?" he asked, throwing himself into an arm-chair.
+
+"I don't know who she is," was another unexpected answer.
+
+"When did you meet her?" asked the Duke. "Where? What did you say to
+her?"
+
+"Yesterday. In the Corn. I didn't SAY anything to her."
+
+"Is she beautiful?"
+
+"Yes. What's that to you?"
+
+"Dark or fair?"
+
+"She's dark. She looks like a foreigner. She looks like--like one of
+those photographs in the shop-windows."
+
+"A rhapsody, Noaks! What became of her? Was she alone?"
+
+"She was with the old Warden, in his carriage."
+
+Zuleika--Noaks! The Duke started, as at an affront, and glared. Next
+moment, he saw the absurdity of the situation. He relapsed into his
+chair, smiling. "She's the Warden's niece," he said. "I dined at the
+Warden's last night."
+
+Noaks sat still, peering across at the Duke. For the first time in his
+life, he was resentful of the Duke's great elegance and average stature,
+his high lineage and incomputable wealth. Hitherto, these things
+had been too remote for envy. But now, suddenly, they seemed near to
+him--nearer and more overpowering than the First in Mods had ever been.
+"And of course she's in love with you?" he snarled.
+
+Really, this was for the Duke a new issue. So salient was his own
+passion that he had not had time to wonder whether it were returned.
+Zuleika's behaviour during dinner... But that was how so many young
+women had behaved. It was no sign of disinterested love. It might mean
+merely... Yet no! Surely, looking into her eyes, he had seen there a
+radiance finer than could have been lit by common ambition. Love, none
+other, must have lit in those purple depths the torches whose clear
+flames had leapt out to him. She loved him. She, the beautiful, the
+wonderful, had not tried to conceal her love for him. She had shown him
+all--had shown all, poor darling! only to be snubbed by a prig, driven
+away by a boor, fled from by a fool. To the nethermost corner of his
+soul, he cursed himself for what he had done, and for all he had left
+undone. He would go to her on his knees. He would implore her to impose
+on him insufferable penances. There was no penance, how bittersweet
+soever, could make him a little worthy of her.
+
+"Come in!" he cried mechanically. Entered the landlady's daughter.
+
+"A lady downstairs," she said, "asking to see your Grace. Says she'll
+step round again later if your Grace is busy."
+
+"What is her name?" asked the Duke, vacantly. He was gazing at the girl
+with pain-shot eyes.
+
+"Miss Zuleika Dobson," pronounced the girl.
+
+He rose.
+
+"Show Miss Dobson up," he said.
+
+Noaks had darted to the looking-glass and was smoothing his hair with a
+tremulous, enormous hand.
+
+"Go!" said the Duke, pointing to the door. Noaks went, quickly. Echoes
+of his boots fell from the upper stairs and met the ascending susurrus
+of a silk skirt.
+
+The lovers met. There was an interchange of ordinary greetings: from the
+Duke, a comment on the weather; from Zuleika, a hope that he was well
+again--they had been so sorry to lose him last night. Then came a pause.
+The landlady's daughter was clearing away the breakfast-things.
+Zuleika glanced comprehensively at the room, and the Duke gazed at the
+hearthrug. The landlady's daughter clattered out with her freight. They
+were alone.
+
+"How pretty!" said Zuleika. She was looking at his star of the Garter,
+which sparkled from a litter of books and papers on a small side-table.
+
+"Yes," he answered. "It is pretty, isn't it?"
+
+"Awfully pretty!" she rejoined.
+
+This dialogue led them to another hollow pause. The Duke's heart beat
+violently within him. Why had he not asked her to take the star and keep
+it as a gift? Too late now! Why could he not throw himself at her feet?
+Here were two beings, lovers of each other, with none by. And yet...
+
+She was examining a water-colour on the wall, seemed to be absorbed by
+it. He watched her. She was even lovelier than he had remembered;
+or rather her loveliness had been, in some subtle way, transmuted.
+Something had given to her a graver, nobler beauty. Last night's nymph
+had become the Madonna of this morning. Despite her dress, which was
+of a tremendous tartan, she diffused the pale authentic radiance of a
+spirituality most high, most simple. The Duke wondered where lay the
+change in her. He could not understand. Suddenly she turned to him, and
+he understood. No longer the black pearl and the pink, but two white
+pearls!... He thrilled to his heart's core.
+
+"I hope," said Zuleika, "you aren't awfully vexed with me for coming
+like this?"
+
+"Not at all," said the Duke. "I am delighted to see you." How inadequate
+the words sounded, how formal and stupid!
+
+"The fact is," she continued, "I don't know a soul in Oxford. And
+I thought perhaps you'd give me luncheon, and take me to see the
+boat-races. Will you?"
+
+"I shall be charmed," he said, pulling the bell-rope. Poor fool! he
+attributed the shade of disappointment on Zuleika's face to the coldness
+of his tone. He would dispel that shade. He would avow himself. He would
+leave her no longer in this false position. So soon as he had told them
+about the meal, he would proclaim his passion.
+
+The bell was answered by the landlady's daughter.
+
+"Miss Dobson will stay to luncheon," said the Duke. The girl withdrew.
+He wished he could have asked her not to.
+
+He steeled himself. "Miss Dobson," he said, "I wish to apologise to
+you."
+
+Zuleika looked at him eagerly. "You can't give me luncheon? You've got
+something better to do?"
+
+"No. I wish to ask you to forgive me for my behaviour last night."
+
+"There is nothing to forgive."
+
+"There is. My manners were vile. I know well what happened. Though you,
+too, cannot have forgotten, I won't spare myself the recital. You were
+my hostess, and I ignored you. Magnanimous, you paid me the prettiest
+compliment woman ever paid to man, and I insulted you. I left the house
+in order that I might not see you again. To the doorsteps down which
+he should have kicked me, your grandfather followed me with words of
+kindliest courtesy. If he had sped me with a kick so skilful that my
+skull had been shattered on the kerb, neither would he have outstepped
+those bounds set to the conduct of English gentlemen, nor would you have
+garnered more than a trifle on account of your proper reckoning. I do
+not say that you are the first person whom I have wantonly injured. But
+it is a fact that I, in whom pride has ever been the topmost quality,
+have never expressed sorrow to any one for anything. Thus, I might urge
+that my present abjectness must be intolerably painful to me, and should
+incline you to forgive. But such an argument were specious merely.
+I will be quite frank with you. I will confess to you that, in this
+humbling of myself before you, I take a pleasure as passionate as it is
+strange. A confusion of feelings? Yet you, with a woman's instinct, will
+have already caught the clue to it. It needs no mirror to assure me
+that the clue is here for you, in my eyes. It needs no dictionary of
+quotations to remind me that the eyes are the windows of the soul. And I
+know that from two open windows my soul has been leaning and signalling
+to you, in a code far more definitive and swifter than words of mine,
+that I love you."
+
+Zuleika, listening to him, had grown gradually paler and paler. She had
+raised her hands and cowered as though he were about to strike her. And
+then, as he pronounced the last three words, she had clasped her hands
+to her face and with a wild sob darted away from him. She was leaning
+now against the window, her head bowed and her shoulders quivering.
+
+The Duke came softly behind her. "Why should you cry? Why should you
+turn away from me? Did I frighten you with the suddenness of my words? I
+am not versed in the tricks of wooing. I should have been more patient.
+But I love you so much that I could hardly have waited. A secret hope
+that you loved me too emboldened me, compelled me. You DO love me. I
+know it. And, knowing it, I do but ask you to give yourself to me, to
+be my wife. Why should you cry? Why should you shrink from me? Dear,
+if there were anything... any secret... if you had ever loved and been
+deceived, do you think I should honour you the less deeply, should not
+cherish you the more tenderly? Enough for me, that you are mine. Do you
+think I should ever reproach you for anything that may have--"
+
+Zuleika turned on him. "How dare you?" she gasped. "How dare you speak
+to me like that?"
+
+The Duke reeled back. Horror had come into his eyes. "You do not love
+me!" he cried.
+
+"LOVE you?" she retorted. "YOU?"
+
+"You no longer love me. Why? Why?"
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"You loved me. Don't trifle with me. You came to me loving me with all
+your heart."
+
+"How do you know?"
+
+"Look in the glass." She went at his bidding. He followed her. "You
+see them?" he said, after a long pause. Zuleika nodded. The two pearls
+quivered to her nod.
+
+"They were white when you came to me," he sighed. "They were white
+because you loved me. From them it was that I knew you loved me even as
+I loved you. But their old colours have come back to them. That is how I
+know that your love for me is dead."
+
+Zuleika stood gazing pensively, twitching the two pearls between her
+fingers. Tears gathered in her eyes. She met the reflection of her
+lover's eyes, and her tears brimmed over. She buried her face in her
+hands, and sobbed like a child.
+
+Like a child's, her sobbing ceased quite suddenly. She groped for her
+handkerchief, angrily dried her eyes, and straightened and smoothed
+herself.
+
+"Now I'm going," she said.
+
+"You came here of your own accord, because you loved me," said the Duke.
+"And you shall not go till you have told me why you have left off loving
+me."
+
+"How did you know I loved you?" she asked after a pause. "How did you
+know I hadn't simply put on another pair of ear-rings?"
+
+The Duke, with a melancholy laugh, drew the two studs from his
+waistcoat-pocket. "These are the studs I wore last night," he said.
+
+Zuleika gazed at them. "I see," she said; then, looking up, "When did
+they become like that?"
+
+"It was when you left the dining-room that I saw the change in them."
+
+"How strange! It was when I went into the drawing-room that I noticed
+mine. I was looking in the glass, and"--She started. "Then you were in
+love with me last night?"
+
+"I began to be in love with you from the moment I saw you."
+
+"Then how could you have behaved as you did?"
+
+"Because I was a pedant. I tried to ignore you, as pedants always do try
+to ignore any fact they cannot fit into their pet system. The basis
+of my pet system was celibacy. I don't mean the mere state of being
+a bachelor. I mean celibacy of the soul--egoism, in fact. You have
+converted me from that. I am now a confirmed tuist."
+
+"How dared you insult me?" she cried, with a stamp of her foot.
+"How dared you make a fool of me before those people? Oh, it is too
+infamous!"
+
+"I have already asked you to forgive me for that. You said there was
+nothing to forgive."
+
+"I didn't dream that you were in love with me."
+
+"What difference can that make?"
+
+"All the difference! All the difference in life!"
+
+"Sit down! You bewilder me," said the Duke. "Explain yourself!" he
+commanded.
+
+"Isn't that rather much for a man to ask of a woman?"
+
+"I don't know. I have no experience of women. In the abstract, it seems
+to me that every man has a right to some explanation from the woman who
+has ruined his life."
+
+"You are frightfully sorry for yourself," said Zuleika, with a bitter
+laugh. "Of course it doesn't occur to you that _I_ am at all to be
+pitied. No! you are blind with selfishness. You love me--I don't love
+you: that is all you can realise. Probably you think you are the first
+man who has ever fallen on such a plight."
+
+Said the Duke, bowing over a deprecatory hand, "If there were to pass my
+window one tithe of them whose hearts have been lost to Miss Dobson, I
+should win no solace from that interminable parade."
+
+Zuleika blushed. "Yet," she said more gently, "be sure they would all be
+not a little envious of YOU! Not one of them ever touched the surface of
+my heart. You stirred my heart to its very depths. Yes, you made me love
+you madly. The pearls told you no lie. You were my idol--the one thing
+in the wide world to me. You were so different from any man I had ever
+seen except in dreams. You did not make a fool of yourself. I admired
+you. I respected you. I was all afire with adoration of you. And now,"
+she passed her hand across her eyes, "now it is all over. The idol has
+come sliding down its pedestal to fawn and grovel with all the other
+infatuates in the dust about my feet."
+
+The Duke looked thoughtfully at her. "I thought," he said, "that you
+revelled in your power over men's hearts. I had always heard that you
+lived for admiration."
+
+"Oh," said Zuleika, "of course I like being admired. Oh yes, I like all
+that very much indeed. In a way, I suppose, I'm even pleased that
+YOU admire me. But oh, what a little miserable pleasure that is in
+comparison with the rapture I have forfeited! I had never known the
+rapture of being in love. I had longed for it, but I had never guessed
+how wonderfully wonderful it was. It came to me. I shuddered and wavered
+like a fountain in the wind. I was more helpless and flew lightlier
+than a shred of thistledown among the stars. All night long, I could not
+sleep for love of you; nor had I any desire of sleep, save that it might
+take me to you in a dream. I remember nothing that happened to me this
+morning before I found myself at your door."
+
+"Why did you ring the bell? Why didn't you walk away?"
+
+"Why? I had come to see you, to be near you, to be WITH you."
+
+"To force yourself on me."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"You know the meaning of the term 'effective occupation'? Having marched
+in, how could you have held your position, unless"--
+
+"Oh, a man doesn't necessarily drive a woman away because he isn't in
+love with her."
+
+"Yet that was what you thought I had done to you last night."
+
+"Yes, but I didn't suppose you would take the trouble to do it again.
+And if you had, I should have only loved you the more. I thought you
+would most likely be rather amused, rather touched, by my importunity. I
+thought you would take a listless advantage, make a plaything of me--the
+diversion of a few idle hours in summer, and then, when you had tired
+of me, would cast me aside, forget me, break my heart. I desired nothing
+better than that. That is what I must have been vaguely hoping for. But
+I had no definite scheme. I wanted to be with you and I came to you. It
+seems years ago, now! How my heart beat as I waited on the doorstep! 'Is
+his Grace at home?' 'I don't know. I'll inquire. What name shall I say?'
+I saw in the girl's eyes that she, too, loved you. Have YOU seen that?"
+
+"I have never looked at her," said the Duke.
+
+"No wonder, then, that she loves you," sighed Zuleika. "She read my
+secret at a glance. Women who love the same man have a kind of bitter
+freemasonry. We resented each other. She envied me my beauty, my dress.
+I envied the little fool her privilege of being always near to you.
+Loving you, I could conceive no life sweeter than hers--to be always
+near you; to black your boots, carry up your coals, scrub your doorstep;
+always to be working for you, hard and humbly and without thanks. If you
+had refused to see me, I would have bribed that girl with all my jewels
+to cede me her position."
+
+The Duke made a step towards her. "You would do it still," he said in a
+low voice.
+
+Zuleika raised her eyebrows. "I would not offer her one garnet," she
+said, "now."
+
+"You SHALL love me again," he cried. "I will force you to. You said just
+now that you had ceased to love me because I was just like other men. I
+am not. My heart is no tablet of mere wax, from which an instant's heat
+can dissolve whatever impress it may bear, leaving it blank and soft
+for another impress, and another, and another. My heart is a bright hard
+gem, proof against any die. Came Cupid, with one of his arrow-points
+for graver, and what he cut on the gem's surface never can be effaced.
+There, deeply and forever, your image is intagliated. No years, nor
+fires, nor cataclysm of total Nature, can efface from that great gem
+your image."
+
+"My dear Duke," said Zuleika, "don't be so silly. Look at the matter
+sensibly. I know that lovers don't try to regulate their emotions
+according to logic; but they do, nevertheless, unconsciously conform
+with some sort of logical system. I left off loving you when I found
+that you loved me. There is the premiss. Very well! Is it likely that I
+shall begin to love you again because you can't leave off loving me?"
+
+The Duke groaned. There was a clatter of plates outside, and she whom
+Zuleika had envied came to lay the table for luncheon.
+
+A smile flickered across Zuleika's lips; and "Not one garnet!" she
+murmured.
+
+
+
+
+V
+
+Luncheon passed in almost unbroken silence. Both Zuleika and the Duke
+were ravenously hungry, as people always are after the stress of any
+great emotional crisis. Between them, they made very short work of
+a cold chicken, a salad, a gooseberry-tart and a Camembert. The Duke
+filled his glass again and again. The cold classicism of his face had
+been routed by the new romantic movement which had swept over his soul.
+He looked two or three months older than when first I showed him to my
+reader.
+
+He drank his coffee at one draught, pushed back his chair, threw away
+the cigarette he had just lit. "Listen!" he said.
+
+Zuleika folded her hands on her lap.
+
+"You do not love me. I accept as final your hint that you never will
+love me. I need not say--could not, indeed, ever say--how deeply, deeply
+you have pained me. As lover, I am rejected. But that rejection," he
+continued, striking the table, "is no stopper to my suit. It does but
+drive me to the use of arguments. My pride shrinks from them. Love,
+however, is greater than pride; and I, John, Albert, Edward, Claude,
+Orde, Angus, Tankerton,* Tanville-Tankerton,** fourteenth Duke of
+Dorset, Marquis of Dorset, Earl of Grove, Earl of Chastermaine, Viscount
+Brewsby, Baron Grove, Baron Petstrap, and Baron Wolock, in the Peerage
+of England, offer you my hand. Do not interrupt me. Do not toss your
+head. Consider well what I am saying. Weigh the advantages you would
+gain by acceptance of my hand. Indeed, they are manifold and tremendous.
+They are also obvious: do not shut your eyes to them. You, Miss Dobson,
+what are you? A conjurer, and a vagrant; without means, save such as you
+can earn by the sleight of your hand; without position; without a
+home; all unguarded but by your own self-respect. That you follow an
+honourable calling, I do not for one moment deny. I do, however, ask
+you to consider how great are its perils and hardships, its fatigues and
+inconveniences. From all these evils I offer you instant refuge. I offer
+you, Miss Dobson, a refuge more glorious and more augustly gilded
+than you, in your airiest flights of fancy, can ever have hoped for or
+imagined. I own about 340,000 acres. My town-residence is in St. James's
+Square. Tankerton, of which you may have seen photographs, is the chief
+of my country-seats. It is a Tudor house, set on the ridge of a valley.
+The valley, its park, is halved by a stream so narrow that the deer leap
+across. The gardens are estraded upon the slope. Round the house runs
+a wide paven terrace. There are always two or three peacocks trailing
+their sheathed feathers along the balustrade, and stepping how stiffly!
+as though they had just been unharnessed from Juno's chariot. Two
+flights of shallow steps lead down to the flowers and fountains. Oh,
+the gardens are wonderful. There is a Jacobean garden of white roses.
+Between the ends of two pleached alleys, under a dome of branches, is
+a little lake, with a Triton of black marble, and with water-lilies.
+Hither and thither under the archipelago of water-lilies, dart
+gold-fish--tongues of flame in the dark water. There is also a long
+strait alley of clipped yew. It ends in an alcove for a pagoda
+of painted porcelain which the Prince Regent--peace be to his
+ashes!--presented to my great-grandfather. There are many twisting
+paths, and sudden aspects, and devious, fantastic arbours. Are you fond
+of horses? In my stables of pine-wood and plated-silver seventy are
+installed. Not all of them together could vie in power with one of the
+meanest of my motor-cars."
+
+   *Pronounced as Tacton.
+
+  **Pronounced as Tavvle-Tacton.
+
+"Oh, I never go in motors," said Zuleika. "They make one look like
+nothing on earth, and like everybody else."
+
+"I myself," said the Duke, "use them little for that very reason. Are
+you interested in farming? At Tankerton there is a model farm which
+would at any rate amuse you, with its heifers and hens and pigs that are
+like so many big new toys. There is a tiny dairy, which is called 'Her
+Grace's.' You could make, therein, real butter with your own hands, and
+round it into little pats, and press every pat with a different device.
+The boudoir that would be yours is a blue room. Four Watteaus hang in
+it. In the dining-hall hang portraits of my forefathers--in petto,
+your forefathers-in-law--by many masters. Are you fond of peasants?
+My tenantry are delightful creatures, and there is not one of them who
+remembers the bringing of the news of the Battle of Waterloo. When a
+new Duchess is brought to Tankerton, the oldest elm in the park must
+be felled. That is one of many strange old customs. As she is driven
+through the village, the children of the tenantry must strew the road
+with daisies. The bridal chamber must be lighted with as many candles as
+years have elapsed since the creation of the Dukedom. If you came into
+it, there would be"--and the youth, closing his eyes, made a rapid
+calculation--"exactly three hundred and eighty-eight candles. On the eve
+of the death of a Duke of Dorset, two black owls come and perch on the
+battlements. They remain there through the night, hooting. At dawn
+they fly away, none knows whither. On the eve of the death of any other
+Tanville-Tankerton, comes (no matter what be the time of year) a cuckoo.
+It stays for an hour, cooing, then flies away, none knows whither.
+Whenever this portent occurs, my steward telegraphs to me, that I, as
+head of the family, be not unsteeled against the shock of a bereavement,
+and that my authority be sooner given for the unsealing and garnishing
+of the family-vault. Not every forefather of mine rests quiet beneath
+his escutcheoned marble. There are they who revisit, in their wrath or
+their remorse, the places wherein erst they suffered or wrought evil.
+There is one who, every Halloween, flits into the dining-hall, and
+hovers before the portrait which Hans Holbein made of him, and flings
+his diaphanous grey form against the canvas, hoping, maybe, to catch
+from it the fiery flesh-tints and the solid limbs that were his, and so
+to be re-incarnate. He flies against the painting, only to find himself
+t'other side of the wall it hangs on. There are five ghosts permanently
+residing in the right wing of the house, two in the left, and eleven in
+the park. But all are quite noiseless and quite harmless. My servants,
+when they meet them in the corridors or on the stairs, stand aside to
+let them pass, thus paying them the respect due to guests of mine; but
+not even the rawest housemaid ever screams or flees at sight of them. I,
+their host, often waylay them and try to commune with them; but always
+they glide past me. And how gracefully they glide, these ghosts! It is a
+pleasure to watch them. It is a lesson in deportment. May they never be
+laid! Of all my household-pets, they are the dearest to me. I am Duke
+of Strathsporran and Cairngorm, Marquis of Sorby, and Earl Cairngorm, in
+the Peerage of Scotland. In the glens of the hills about Strathsporran
+are many noble and nimble stags. But I have never set foot in my house
+there, for it is carpeted throughout with the tartan of my clan. You
+seem to like tartan. What tartan is it you are wearing?"
+
+Zuleika looked down at her skirt. "I don't know," she said. "I got it in
+Paris."
+
+"Well," said the Duke, "it is very ugly. The Dalbraith tartan is
+harmonious in comparison, and has, at least, the excuse of history. If
+you married me, you would have the right to wear it. You would have many
+strange and fascinating rights. You would go to Court. I admit that the
+Hanoverian Court is not much. Still, it is better than nothing. At your
+presentation, moreover, you would be given the entree. Is that nothing
+to you? You would be driven to Court in my statecoach. It is swung so
+high that the streetsters can hardly see its occupant. It is lined
+with rose-silk; and on its panels, and on its hammer-cloth, my arms
+are emblazoned--no one has ever been able to count the quarterings. You
+would be wearing the family-jewels, reluctantly surrendered to you by my
+aunt. They are many and marvellous, in their antique settings. I don't
+want to brag. It humiliates me to speak to you as I am speaking. But
+I am heart-set on you, and to win you there is not a precious stone I
+would leave unturned. Conceive a parure all of white stones--diamonds,
+white sapphires, white topazes, tourmalines. Another, of rubies and
+amethysts, set in gold filigree. Rings that once were poison-combs on
+Florentine fingers. Red roses for your hair--every petal a hollowed
+ruby. Amulets and ape-buckles, zones and fillets. Aye! know that you
+would be weeping for wonder before you had seen a tithe of these gauds.
+Know, too, Miss Dobson, that in the Peerage of France I am Duc d'Etretat
+et de la Roche Guillaume. Louis Napoleon gave the title to my father for
+not cutting him in the Bois. I have a house in the Champs Elysees. There
+is a Swiss in its courtyard. He stands six-foot-seven in his stockings,
+and the chasseurs are hardly less tall than he. Wherever I go, there are
+two chefs in my retinue. Both are masters in their art, and furiously
+jealous of each other. When I compliment either of them on some dish,
+the other challenges him. They fight with rapiers, next morning, in the
+garden of whatever house I am occupying. I do not know whether you are
+greedy? If so, it may interest you to learn that I have a third chef,
+who makes only souffles, and an Italian pastry-cook; to say nothing of
+a Spaniard for salads, an Englishwoman for roasts, and an Abyssinian for
+coffee. You found no trace of their handiwork in the meal you have just
+had with me? No; for in Oxford it is a whim of mine--I may say a point
+of honour--to lead the ordinary life of an undergraduate. What I eat
+in this room is cooked by the heavy and unaided hand of Mrs. Batch,
+my landlady. It is set before me by the unaided and--or are you in
+error?--loving hand of her daughter. Other ministers have I none here. I
+dispense with my private secretaries. I am unattended by a single valet.
+So simple a way of life repels you? You would never be called upon to
+share it. If you married me, I should take my name off the books of my
+College. I propose that we should spend our honeymoon at Baiae. I have
+a villa at Baiae. It is there that I keep my grandfather's collection of
+majolica. The sun shines there always. A long olive-grove secretes the
+garden from the sea. When you walk in the garden, you know the sea only
+in blue glimpses through the vacillating leaves. White-gleaming from the
+bosky shade of this grove are several goddesses. Do you care for Canova?
+I don't myself. If you do, these figures will appeal to you: they are in
+his best manner. Do you love the sea? This is not the only house of mine
+that looks out on it. On the coast of County Clare--am I not Earl of
+Enniskerry and Baron Shandrin in the Peerage of Ireland?--I have an
+ancient castle. Sheer from a rock stands it, and the sea has always
+raged up against its walls. Many ships lie wrecked under that loud
+implacable sea. But mine is a brave strong castle. No storm affrights
+it; and not the centuries, clustering houris, with their caresses can
+seduce it from its hard austerity. I have several titles which for the
+moment escape me. Baron Llffthwchl am I, and... and... but you can
+find them for yourself in Debrett. In me you behold a Prince of the Holy
+Roman Empire, and a Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Garter. Look
+well at me! I am Hereditary Comber of the Queen's Lap-Dogs. I am young.
+I am handsome. My temper is sweet, and my character without blemish. In
+fine, Miss Dobson, I am a most desirable parti."
+
+"But," said Zuleika, "I don't love you."
+
+The Duke stamped his foot. "I beg your pardon," he said hastily. "I
+ought not to have done that. But--you seem to have entirely missed the
+point of what I was saying."
+
+"No, I haven't," said Zuleika.
+
+"Then what," cried the Duke, standing over her, "what is your reply?"
+
+Said Zuleika, looking up at him, "My reply is that I think you are an
+awful snob."
+
+The Duke turned on his heel, and strode to the other end of the room.
+There he stood for some moments, his back to Zuleika.
+
+"I think," she resumed in a slow, meditative voice, "that you are, with
+the possible exception of a Mr. Edelweiss, THE most awful snob I have
+ever met."
+
+The Duke looked back over his shoulder. He gave Zuleika the stinging
+reprimand of silence. She was sorry, and showed it in her eyes. She felt
+she had gone too far. True, he was nothing to her now. But she had loved
+him once. She could not forget that.
+
+"Come!" she said. "Let us be good friends. Give me your hand!" He came
+to her, slowly. "There!"
+
+The Duke withdrew his fingers before she unclasped them. That
+twice-flung taunt rankled still. It was monstrous to have been called
+a snob. A snob!--he, whose readiness to form what would certainly be
+regarded as a shocking misalliance ought to have stifled the charge, not
+merely vindicated him from it! He had forgotten, in the blindness of his
+love, how shocking the misalliance would be. Perhaps she, unloving, had
+not been so forgetful? Perhaps her refusal had been made, generously,
+for his own sake. Nay, rather for her own. Evidently, she had felt that
+the high sphere from which he beckoned was no place for the likes of
+her. Evidently, she feared she would pine away among those strange
+splendours, never be acclimatised, always be unworthy. He had thought to
+overwhelm her, and he had done his work too thoroughly. Now he must try
+to lighten the load he had imposed.
+
+Seating himself opposite to her, "You remember," he said, "that there is
+a dairy at Tankerton?"
+
+"A dairy? Oh yes."
+
+"Do you remember what it is called?"
+
+Zuleika knit her brows.
+
+He helped her out. "It is called 'Her Grace's'."
+
+"Oh, of course!" said Zuleika.
+
+"Do you know WHY it is called so?"
+
+"Well, let's see... I know you told me."
+
+"Did I? I think not. I will tell you now... That cool out-house dates
+from the middle of the eighteenth century. My great-great-grandfather,
+when he was a very old man, married en troisiemes noces a dairy-maid
+on the Tankerton estate. Meg Speedwell was her name. He had seen her
+walking across a field, not many months after the interment of his
+second Duchess, Maria, that great and gifted lady. I know not whether it
+was that her bonny mien fanned in him some embers of his youth, or that
+he was loth to be outdone in gracious eccentricity by his crony the Duke
+of Dewlap, who himself had just taken a bride from a dairy. (You have
+read Meredith's account of that affair? No? You should.) Whether it was
+veritable love or mere modishness that formed my ancestor's resolve,
+presently the bells were ringing out, and the oldest elm in the park was
+being felled, in Meg Speedwell's honour, and the children were strewing
+daisies on which Meg Speedwell trod, a proud young hoyden of a bride,
+with her head in the air and her heart in the seventh heaven. The Duke
+had given her already a horde of fine gifts; but these, he had said,
+were nothing--trash in comparison with the gift that was to ensure for
+her a perdurable felicity. After the wedding-breakfast, when all the
+squires had ridden away on their cobs, and all the squires' ladies in
+their coaches, the Duke led his bride forth from the hall, leaning on
+her arm, till they came to a little edifice of new white stone, very
+spick and span, with two lattice-windows and a bright green door
+between. This he bade her enter. A-flutter with excitement, she
+turned the handle. In a moment she flounced back, red with shame and
+anger--flounced forth from the fairest, whitest, dapperest dairy,
+wherein was all of the best that the keenest dairy-maid might need. The
+Duke bade her dry her eyes, for that it ill befitted a great lady to be
+weeping on her wedding-day. 'As for gratitude,' he chuckled, 'zounds!
+that is a wine all the better for the keeping.' Duchess Meg soon forgot
+this unworthy wedding-gift, such was her rapture in the other, the so
+august, appurtenances of her new life. What with her fine silk gowns
+and farthingales, and her powder-closet, and the canopied bed she slept
+in--a bed bigger far than the room she had slept in with her sisters,
+and standing in a room far bigger than her father's cottage; and
+what with Betty, her maid, who had pinched and teased her at the
+village-school, but now waited on her so meekly and trembled so
+fearfully at a scolding; and what with the fine hot dishes that were set
+before her every day, and the gallant speeches and glances of the fine
+young gentlemen whom the Duke invited from London, Duchess Meg was quite
+the happiest Duchess in all England. For a while, she was like a child
+in a hay-rick. But anon, as the sheer delight of novelty wore away, she
+began to take a more serious view of her position. She began to realise
+her responsibilities. She was determined to do all that a great lady
+ought to do. Twice every day she assumed the vapours. She schooled
+herself in the mysteries of Ombre, of Macao. She spent hours over the
+tambour-frame. She rode out on horse-back, with a riding-master. She had
+a music-master to teach her the spinet; a dancing-master, too, to teach
+her the Minuet and the Triumph and the Gaudy. All these accomplishments
+she found mighty hard. She was afraid of her horse. All the morning, she
+dreaded the hour when it would be brought round from the stables. She
+dreaded her dancing-lesson. Try as she would, she could but stamp her
+feet flat on the parquet, as though it had been the village-green. She
+dreaded her music-lesson. Her fingers, disobedient to her ambition,
+clumsily thumped the keys of the spinet, and by the notes of the score
+propped up before her she was as cruelly perplexed as by the black and
+red pips of the cards she conned at the gaming-table, or by the red
+and gold threads that were always straying and snapping on her
+tambour-frame. Still she persevered. Day in, day out, sullenly, she
+worked hard to be a great lady. But skill came not to her, and hope
+dwindled; only the dull effort remained. One accomplishment she did
+master--to wit, the vapours: they became for her a dreadful reality. She
+lost her appetite for the fine hot dishes. All night long she lay awake,
+restless, tearful, under the fine silk canopy, till dawn stared her
+into slumber. She seldom scolded Betty. She who had been so lusty and so
+blooming saw in her mirror that she was pale and thin now; and the fine
+young gentlemen, seeing it too, paid more heed now to their wine and
+their dice than to her. And always, when she met him, the Duke smiled
+the same mocking smile. Duchess Meg was pining slowly and surely away...
+One morning, in Spring-time, she altogether vanished. Betty, bringing
+the cup of chocolate to the bedside, found the bed empty. She raised the
+alarm among her fellows. They searched high and low. Nowhere was their
+mistress. The news was broken to their master, who, without comment,
+rose, bade his man dress him, and presently walked out to the place
+where he knew he would find her. And there, to be sure, she was,
+churning, churning for dear life. Her sleeves were rolled above her
+elbows, and her skirt was kilted high; and, as she looked back over her
+shoulder and saw the Duke, there was the flush of roses in her cheeks,
+and the light of a thousand thanks in her eyes. 'Oh,' she cried, 'what
+a curtsey I would drop you, but that to let go the handle were to spoil
+all!' And every morning, ever after, she woke when the birds woke, rose
+when they rose, and went singing through the dawn to the dairy, there to
+practise for her pleasure that sweet and lowly handicraft which she had
+once practised for her need. And every evening, with her milking-stool
+under her arm, and her milk-pail in her hand, she went into the field
+and called the cows to her, as she had been wont to do. To those other,
+those so august, accomplishments she no more pretended. She gave them
+the go-by. And all the old zest and joyousness of her life came back
+to her. Soundlier than ever slept she, and sweetlier dreamed, under the
+fine silk canopy, till the birds called her to her work. Greater than
+ever was her love of the fine furbelows that were hers to flaunt in, and
+sharper her appetite for the fine hot dishes, and more tempestuous her
+scolding of Betty, poor maid. She was more than ever now the cynosure,
+the adored, of the fine young gentlemen. And as for her husband, she
+looked up to him as the wisest, kindest man in all the world."
+
+"And the fine young gentlemen," said Zuleika, "did she fall in love with
+any of them?"
+
+"You forget," said the Duke coldly, "she was married to a member of my
+family."
+
+"Oh, I beg your pardon. But tell me: did they ALL adore her?"
+
+"Yes. Every one of them, wildly, madly."
+
+"Ah," murmured Zuleika, with a smile of understanding. A shadow crossed
+her face, "Even so," she said, with some pique, "I don't suppose she had
+so very many adorers. She never went out into the world."
+
+"Tankerton," said the Duke drily, "is a large house, and my
+great-great-grandfather was the most hospitable of men. However," he
+added, marvelling that she had again missed the point so utterly, "my
+purpose was not to confront you with a past rival in conquest, but to
+set at rest a fear which I had, I think, roused in you by my somewhat
+full description of the high majestic life to which you, as my bride,
+would be translated."
+
+"A fear? What sort of a fear?"
+
+"That you would not breathe freely--that you would starve (if I may use
+a somewhat fantastic figure) among those strawberry-leaves. And so I
+told you the story of Meg Speedwell, and how she lived happily ever
+after. Nay, hear me out! The blood of Meg Speedwell's lord flows in
+my veins. I think I may boast that I have inherited something of his
+sagacity. In any case, I can profit by his example. Do not fear that
+I, if you were to wed me, should demand a metamorphosis of your present
+self. I should take you as you are, gladly. I should encourage you to be
+always exactly as you are--a radiant, irresistible member of the upper
+middle-class, with a certain freedom of manner acquired through a
+life of peculiar liberty. Can you guess what would be my principal
+wedding-gift to you? Meg Speedwell had her dairy. For you, would be
+built another outhouse--a neat hall wherein you would perform your
+conjuring-tricks, every evening except Sunday, before me and my tenants
+and my servants, and before such of my neighbours as might care to come.
+None would respect you the less, seeing that I approved. Thus in
+you would the pleasant history of Meg Speedwell repeat itself. You,
+practising for your pleasure--nay, hear me out!--that sweet and lowly
+handicraft which--"
+
+"I won't listen to another word!" cried Zuleika. "You are the most
+insolent person I have ever met. I happen to come of a particularly good
+family. I move in the best society. My manners are absolutely perfect.
+If I found myself in the shoes of twenty Duchesses simultaneously, I
+should know quite well how to behave. As for the one pair you can offer
+me, I kick them away--so. I kick them back at you. I tell you--"
+
+"Hush," said the Duke, "hush! You are over-excited. There will be a
+crowd under my window. There, there! I am sorry. I thought--"
+
+"Oh, I know what you thought," said Zuleika, in a quieter tone. "I am
+sure you meant well. I am sorry I lost my temper. Only, you might have
+given me credit for meaning what I said: that I would not marry you,
+because I did not love you. I daresay there would be great advantages
+in being your Duchess. But the fact is, I have no worldly wisdom. To me,
+marriage is a sacrament. I could no more marry a man about whom I could
+not make a fool of myself than I could marry one who made a fool of
+himself about me. Else had I long ceased to be a spinster. Oh my friend,
+do not imagine that I have not rejected, in my day, a score of suitors
+quite as eligible as you."
+
+"As eligible? Who were they?" frowned the Duke.
+
+"Oh, Archduke this, and Grand Duke that, and His Serene Highness the
+other. I have a wretched memory for names."
+
+"And my name, too, will soon escape you, perhaps?"
+
+"No. Oh, no. I shall always remember yours. You see, I was in love with
+you. You deceived me into loving you..." She sighed. "Oh, had you but
+been as strong as I thought you... Still, a swain the more. That is
+something." She leaned forward, smiling archly. "Those studs--show me
+them again."
+
+The Duke displayed them in the hollow of his hand. She touched them
+lightly, reverently, as a tourist touches a sacred relic in a church.
+
+At length, "Do give me them," she said. "I will keep them in a little
+secret partition of my jewel-case." The Duke had closed his fist. "Do!"
+she pleaded. "My other jewels--they have no separate meanings for me.
+I never remember who gave me this one or that. These would be quite
+different. I should always remember their history... Do!"
+
+"Ask me for anything else," said the Duke. "These are the one thing I
+could not part with--even to you, for whose sake they are hallowed."
+
+Zuleika pouted. On the verge of persisting, she changed her mind, and
+was silent.
+
+"Well!" she said abruptly, "how about these races? Are you going to take
+me to see them?"
+
+"Races? What races?" murmured the Duke. "Oh yes. I had forgotten. Do you
+really mean that you want to see them?"
+
+"Why, of course! They are great fun, aren't they?"
+
+"And you are in a mood for great fun? Well, there is plenty of time. The
+Second Division is not rowed till half-past four."
+
+"The Second Division? Why not take me to the First?"
+
+"That is not rowed till six."
+
+"Isn't this rather an odd arrangement?"
+
+"No doubt. But Oxford never pretended to be strong in mathematics."
+
+"Why, it's not yet three!" cried Zuleika, with a woebegone stare at the
+clock. "What is to be done in the meantime?"
+
+"Am not I sufficiently diverting?" asked the Duke bitterly.
+
+"Quite candidly, no. Have you any friend lodging with you here?"
+
+"One, overhead. A man named Noaks."
+
+"A small man, with spectacles?"
+
+"Very small, with very large spectacles."
+
+"He was pointed out to me yesterday, as I was driving from the Station
+... No, I don't think I want to meet him. What can you have in common
+with him?"
+
+"One frailty, at least: he, too, Miss Dobson, loves you."
+
+"But of course he does. He saw me drive past. Very few of the others,"
+she said, rising and shaking herself, "have set eyes on me. Do let us go
+out and look at the Colleges. I do need change of scene. If you were a
+doctor, you would have prescribed that long ago. It is very bad for me
+to be here, a kind of Cinderella, moping over the ashes of my love for
+you. Where is your hat?"
+
+Looking round, she caught sight of herself in the glass. "Oh," she
+cried, "what a fright I do look! I must never be seen like this!"
+
+"You look very beautiful."
+
+"I don't. That is a lover's illusion. You yourself told me that this
+tartan was perfectly hideous. There was no need to tell me that. I
+came thus because I was coming to see you. I chose this frock in the
+deliberate fear that you, if I made myself presentable, might succumb at
+second sight of me. I would have sent out for a sack and dressed myself
+in that, I would have blacked my face all over with burnt cork, only I
+was afraid of being mobbed on the way to you."
+
+"Even so, you would but have been mobbed for your incorrigible beauty."
+
+"My beauty! How I hate it!" sighed Zuleika. "Still, here it is, and I
+must needs make the best of it. Come! Take me to Judas. I will change my
+things. Then I shall be fit for the races."
+
+As these two emerged, side by side, into the street, the Emperors
+exchanged stony sidelong glances. For they saw the more than normal
+pallor of the Duke's face, and something very like desperation in his
+eyes. They saw the tragedy progressing to its foreseen close. Unable to
+stay its course, they were grimly fascinated now.
+
+
+
+
+VI
+
+"The evil that men do lives after them; the good is oft interred with
+their bones." At any rate, the sinner has a better chance than the saint
+of being hereafter remembered. We, in whom original sin preponderates,
+find him easier to understand. He is near to us, clear to us. The saint
+is remote, dim. A very great saint may, of course, be remembered through
+some sheer force of originality in him; and then the very mystery that
+involves him for us makes him the harder to forget: he haunts us the
+more surely because we shall never understand him. But the ordinary
+saints grow faint to posterity; whilst quite ordinary sinners pass
+vividly down the ages.
+
+Of the disciples of Jesus, which is he that is most often remembered
+and cited by us? Not the disciple whom Jesus loved; neither of the
+Boanerges, nor any other of them who so steadfastly followed Him and
+served Him; but the disciple who betrayed Him for thirty pieces of
+silver. Judas Iscariot it is who outstands, overshadowing those
+other fishermen. And perhaps it was by reason of this precedence that
+Christopher Whitrid, Knight, in the reign of Henry VI., gave the name of
+Judas to the College which he had founded. Or perhaps it was because he
+felt that in a Christian community not even the meanest and basest of
+men should be accounted beneath contempt, beyond redemption.
+
+At any rate, thus he named his foundation. And, though for Oxford men
+the savour of the name itself has long evaporated through its local
+connexion, many things show that for the Founder himself it was no empty
+vocable. In a niche above the gate stands a rudely carved statue
+of Judas, holding a money-bag in his right hand. Among the original
+statutes of the College is one by which the Bursar is enjoined to
+distribute in Passion Week thirty pieces of silver among the needier
+scholars "for saike of atonynge." The meadow adjoining the back of the
+College has been called from time immemorial "the Potter's Field." And
+the name of Salt Cellar is not less ancient and significant.
+
+Salt Cellar, that grey and green quadrangle visible from the room
+assigned to Zuleika, is very beautiful, as I have said. So tranquil is
+it as to seem remote not merely from the world, but even from Oxford, so
+deeply is it hidden away in the core of Oxford's heart. So tranquil
+is it, one would guess that nothing had ever happened in it. For five
+centuries these walls have stood, and during that time have beheld, one
+would say, no sight less seemly than the good work of weeding, mowing,
+rolling, that has made, at length, so exemplary the lawn. These
+cloisters that grace the south and east sides--five centuries have
+passed through them, leaving in them no echo, leaving on them no
+sign, of all that the outer world, for good or evil, has been doing so
+fiercely, so raucously.
+
+And yet, if you are versed in the antiquities of Oxford, you know that
+this small, still quadrangle has played its part in the rough-and-tumble
+of history, and has been the background of high passions and strange
+fates. The sun-dial in its midst has told the hours to more than one
+bygone King. Charles I. lay for twelve nights in Judas; and it was here,
+in this very quadrangle, that he heard from the lips of a breathless and
+blood-stained messenger the news of Chalgrove Field. Sixty years later,
+James, his son, came hither, black with threats, and from one of the
+hind-windows of the Warden's house--maybe, from the very room where now
+Zuleika was changing her frock--addressed the Fellows, and presented
+to them the Papist by him chosen to be their Warden, instead of the
+Protestant whom they had elected. They were not of so stern a stuff as
+the Fellows of Magdalen, who, despite His Majesty's menaces, had just
+rejected Bishop Farmer. The Papist was elected, there and then, al
+fresco, without dissent. Cannot one see them, these Fellows of Judas,
+huddled together round the sun-dial, like so many sheep in a storm? The
+King's wrath, according to a contemporary record, was so appeased by
+their pliancy that he deigned to lie for two nights in Judas, and at
+a grand refection in Hall "was gracious and merrie." Perhaps it was in
+lingering gratitude for such patronage that Judas remained so pious to
+his memory even after smug Herrenhausen had been dumped down on us for
+ever. Certainly, of all the Colleges none was more ardent than Judas for
+James Stuart. Thither it was that young Sir Harry Esson led, under cover
+of night, three-score recruits whom he had enlisted in the surrounding
+villages. The cloisters of Salt Cellar were piled with arms and stores;
+and on its grass--its sacred grass!--the squad was incessantly drilled,
+against the good day when Ormond should land his men in Devon. For a
+whole month Salt Cellar was a secret camp. But somehow, at length--woe
+to "lost causes and impossible loyalties"--Herrenhausen had wind of
+it; and one night, when the soldiers of the white cockade lay snoring
+beneath the stars, stealthily the white-faced Warden unbarred his
+postern--that very postern through which now Zuleika had passed on the
+way to her bedroom--and stealthily through it, one by one on tip-toe,
+came the King's foot-guards. Not many shots rang out, nor many swords
+clashed, in the night air, before the trick was won for law and order.
+Most of the rebels were overpowered in their sleep; and those who had
+time to snatch arms were too dazed to make good resistance. Sir Harry
+Esson himself was the only one who did not live to be hanged. He had
+sprung up alert, sword in hand, at the first alarm, setting his back to
+the cloisters. There he fought calmly, ferociously, till a bullet went
+through his chest. "By God, this College is well-named!" were the words
+he uttered as he fell forward and died.
+
+Comparatively tame was the scene now being enacted in this place. The
+Duke, with bowed head, was pacing the path between the lawn and the
+cloisters. Two other undergraduates stood watching him, whispering
+to each other, under the archway that leads to the Front Quadrangle.
+Presently, in a sheepish way, they approached him. He halted and looked
+up.
+
+"I say," stammered the spokesman.
+
+"Well?" asked the Duke. Both youths were slightly acquainted with him;
+but he was not used to being spoken to by those whom he had not first
+addressed. Moreover, he was loth to be thus disturbed in his sombre
+reverie. His manner was not encouraging.
+
+"Isn't it a lovely day for the Eights?" faltered the spokesman.
+
+"I conceive," the Duke said, "that you hold back some other question."
+
+The spokesman smiled weakly. Nudged by the other, he muttered "Ask him
+yourself!"
+
+The Duke diverted his gaze to the other, who, with an angry look at the
+one, cleared his throat, and said "I was going to ask if you thought
+Miss Dobson would come and have luncheon with me to-morrow?"
+
+"A sister of mine will be there," explained the one, knowing the Duke to
+be a precisian.
+
+"If you are acquainted with Miss Dobson, a direct invitation should be
+sent to her," said the Duke. "If you are not--" The aposiopesis was icy.
+
+"Well, you see," said the other of the two, "that is just the
+difficulty. I AM acquainted with her. But is she acquainted with ME? I
+met her at breakfast this morning, at the Warden's."
+
+"So did I," added the one.
+
+"But she--well," continued the other, "she didn't take much notice of
+us. She seemed to be in a sort of dream."
+
+"Ah!" murmured the Duke, with melancholy interest.
+
+"The only time she opened her lips," said the other, "was when she asked
+us whether we took tea or coffee."
+
+"She put hot milk in my tea," volunteered the one, "and upset the cup
+over my hand, and smiled vaguely."
+
+"And smiled vaguely," sighed the Duke.
+
+"She left us long before the marmalade stage," said the one.
+
+"Without a word," said the other.
+
+"Without a glance?" asked the Duke. It was testified by the one and the
+other that there had been not so much as a glance.
+
+"Doubtless," the disingenuous Duke said, "she had a headache... Was she
+pale?"
+
+"Very pale," answered the one.
+
+"A healthy pallor," qualified the other, who was a constant reader of
+novels.
+
+"Did she look," the Duke inquired, "as if she had spent a sleepless
+night?"
+
+That was the impression made on both.
+
+"Yet she did not seem listless or unhappy?"
+
+No, they would not go so far as to say that.
+
+"Indeed, were her eyes of an almost unnatural brilliance?"
+
+"Quite unnatural," confessed the one.
+
+"Twin stars," interpolated the other.
+
+"Did she, in fact, seem to be consumed by some inward rapture?"
+
+Yes, now they came to think of it, this was exactly how she HAD seemed.
+
+It was sweet, it was bitter, for the Duke. "I remember," Zuleika had
+said to him, "nothing that happened to me this morning till I found
+myself at your door." It was bitter-sweet to have that outline filled in
+by these artless pencils. No, it was only bitter, to be, at his time of
+life, living in the past.
+
+"The purpose of your tattle?" he asked coldly.
+
+The two youths hurried to the point from which he had diverted them.
+"When she went by with you just now," said the one, "she evidently
+didn't know us from Adam."
+
+"And I had so hoped to ask her to luncheon," said the other.
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Well, we wondered if you would re-introduce us. And then perhaps..."
+
+There was a pause. The Duke was touched to kindness for these
+fellow-lovers. He would fain preserve them from the anguish that beset
+himself. So humanising is sorrow.
+
+"You are in love with Miss Dobson?" he asked.
+
+Both nodded.
+
+"Then," said he, "you will in time be thankful to me for not affording
+you further traffic with that lady. To love and be scorned--does Fate
+hold for us a greater inconvenience? You think I beg the question? Let
+me tell you that I, too, love Miss Dobson, and that she scorns me."
+
+To the implied question "What chance would there be for you?" the reply
+was obvious.
+
+Amazed, abashed, the two youths turned on their heels.
+
+"Stay!" said the Duke. "Let me, in justice to myself, correct an
+inference you may have drawn. It is not by reason of any defect in
+myself, perceived or imagined, that Miss Dobson scorns me. She scorns me
+simply because I love her. All who love her she scorns. To see her is
+to love her. Therefore shut your eyes to her. Strictly exclude her from
+your horizon. Ignore her. Will you do this?"
+
+"We will try," said the one, after a pause.
+
+"Thank you very much," added the other.
+
+The Duke watched them out of sight. He wished he could take the good
+advice he had given them... Suppose he did take it! Suppose he went
+to the Bursar, obtained an exeat, fled straight to London! What just
+humiliation for Zuleika to come down and find her captive gone! He
+pictured her staring around the quadrangle, ranging the cloisters,
+calling to him. He pictured her rustling to the gate of the College,
+inquiring at the porter's lodge. "His Grace, Miss, he passed through a
+minute ago. He's going down this afternoon."
+
+Yet, even while his fancy luxuriated in this scheme, he well knew that
+he would not accomplish anything of the kind--knew well that he would
+wait here humbly, eagerly, even though Zuleika lingered over her toilet
+till crack o' doom. He had no desire that was not centred in her. Take
+away his love for her, and what remained? Nothing--though only in the
+past twenty-four hours had this love been added to him. Ah, why had
+he ever seen her? He thought of his past, its cold splendour and
+insouciance. But he knew that for him there was no returning. His boats
+were burnt. The Cytherean babes had set their torches to that flotilla,
+and it had blazed like match-wood. On the isle of the enchantress he was
+stranded for ever. For ever stranded on the isle of an enchantress who
+would have nothing to do with him! What, he wondered, should be done in
+so piteous a quandary? There seemed to be two courses. One was to pine
+slowly and painfully away. The other...
+
+Academically, the Duke had often reasoned that a man for whom life holds
+no chance of happiness cannot too quickly shake life off. Now, of a
+sudden, there was for that theory a vivid application.
+
+"Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer" was not a point by which he,
+"more an antique Roman than a Dane," was at all troubled. Never had he
+given ear to that cackle which is called Public Opinion. The judgment
+of his peers--this, he had often told himself, was the sole arbitrage he
+could submit to; but then, who was to be on the bench? Peerless, he was
+irresponsible--the captain of his soul, the despot of his future. No
+injunction but from himself would he bow to; and his own injunctions--so
+little Danish was he--had always been peremptory and lucid. Lucid and
+peremptory, now, the command he issued to himself.
+
+"So sorry to have been so long," carolled a voice from above. The Duke
+looked up. "I'm all but ready," said Zuleika at her window.
+
+That brief apparition changed the colour of his resolve. He realised
+that to die for love of this lady would be no mere measure of
+precaution, or counsel of despair. It would be in itself a passionate
+indulgence--a fiery rapture, not to be foregone. What better could
+he ask than to die for his love? Poor indeed seemed to him now
+the sacrament of marriage beside the sacrament of death. Death was
+incomparably the greater, the finer soul. Death was the one true bridal.
+
+He flung back his head, spread wide his arms, quickened his pace almost
+to running speed. Ah, he would win his bride before the setting of the
+sun. He knew not by what means he would win her. Enough that even now,
+full-hearted, fleet-footed, he was on his way to her, and that she heard
+him coming.
+
+When Zuleika, a vision in vaporous white, came out through the postern,
+she wondered why he was walking at so remarkable a pace. To him, wildly
+expressing in his movement the thought within him, she appeared as his
+awful bride. With a cry of joy, he bounded towards her, and would have
+caught her in his arms, had she not stepped nimbly aside.
+
+"Forgive me!" he said, after a pause. "It was a mistake--an idiotic
+mistake of identity. I thought you were..."
+
+Zuleika, rigid, asked "Have I many doubles?"
+
+"You know well that in all the world is none so blest as to be like you.
+I can only say that I was over-wrought. I can only say that it shall not
+occur again."
+
+She was very angry indeed. Of his penitence there could be no doubt. But
+there are outrages for which no penitence can atone. This seemed to be
+one of them. Her first impulse was to dismiss the Duke forthwith and for
+ever. But she wanted to show herself at the races. And she could not go
+alone. And except the Duke there was no one to take her. True, there was
+the concert to-night; and she could show herself there to advantage; but
+she wanted ALL Oxford to see her--see her NOW.
+
+"I am forgiven?" he asked. In her, I am afraid, self-respect outweighed
+charity. "I will try," she said merely, "to forget what you have done."
+Motioning him to her side, she opened her parasol, and signified her
+readiness to start.
+
+They passed together across the vast gravelled expanse of the Front
+Quadrangle. In the porch of the College there were, as usual, some
+chained-up dogs, patiently awaiting their masters. Zuleika, of course,
+did not care for dogs. One has never known a good man to whom dogs were
+not dear; but many of the best women have no such fondness. You will
+find that the woman who is really kind to dogs is always one who has
+failed to inspire sympathy in men. For the attractive woman, dogs are
+mere dumb and restless brutes--possibly dangerous, certainly soulless.
+Yet will coquetry teach her to caress any dog in the presence of a
+man enslaved by her. Even Zuleika, it seems, was not above this rather
+obvious device for awaking envy. Be sure she did not at all like the
+look of the very big bulldog who was squatting outside the porter's
+lodge. Perhaps, but for her present anger, she would not have stooped
+endearingly down to him, as she did, cooing over him and trying to pat
+his head. Alas, her pretty act was a failure. The bulldog cowered away
+from her, horrifically grimacing. This was strange. Like the majority
+of his breed, Corker (for such was his name) had ever been wistful to
+be noticed by any one--effusively grateful for every word or pat, an
+ever-ready wagger and nuzzler, to none ineffable. No beggar, no burglar,
+had ever been rebuffed by this catholic beast. But he drew the line at
+Zuleika.
+
+Seldom is even a fierce bulldog heard to growl. Yet Corker growled at
+Zuleika.
+
+
+
+
+VII
+
+The Duke did not try to break the stony silence in which Zuleika walked.
+Her displeasure was a luxury to him, for it was so soon to be dispelled.
+A little while, and she would be hating herself for her pettiness. Here
+was he, going to die for her; and here was she, blaming him for a breach
+of manners. Decidedly, the slave had the whip-hand. He stole a sidelong
+look at her, and could not repress a smile. His features quickly
+composed themselves. The Triumph of Death must not be handled as a
+cheap score. He wanted to die because he would thereby so poignantly
+consummate his love, express it so completely, once and for all...
+And she--who could say that she, knowing what he had done, might not,
+illogically, come to love him? Perhaps she would devote her life to
+mourning him. He saw her bending over his tomb, in beautiful humble
+curves, under a starless sky, watering the violets with her tears.
+
+Shades of Novalis and Friedrich Schlegel and other despicable
+maunderers! He brushed them aside. He would be practical. The point was,
+when and how to die? Time: the sooner the better. Manner:.. less easy to
+determine. He must not die horribly, nor without dignity. The manner of
+the Roman philosophers? But the only kind of bath which an undergraduate
+can command is a hip-bath. Stay! there was the river. Drowning (he had
+often heard) was a rather pleasant sensation. And to the river he was
+even now on his way.
+
+It troubled him that he could swim. Twice, indeed, from his yacht,
+he had swum the Hellespont. And how about the animal instinct of
+self-preservation, strong even in despair? No matter! His soul's set
+purpose would subdue that. The law of gravitation that brings one to the
+surface? There his very skill in swimming would help him. He would swim
+under water, along the river-bed, swim till he found weeds to cling to,
+weird strong weeds that he would coil round him, exulting faintly...
+
+As they turned into Radcliffe Square, the Duke's ear caught the sound of
+a far-distant gun. He started, and looked up at the clock of St. Mary's.
+Half-past four! The boats had started.
+
+He had heard that whenever a woman was to blame for a disappointment,
+the best way to avoid a scene was to inculpate oneself. He did not
+wish Zuleika to store up yet more material for penitence. And so "I am
+sorry," he said. "That gun--did you hear it? It was the signal for the
+race. I shall never forgive myself."
+
+"Then we shan't see the race at all?" cried Zuleika.
+
+"It will be over, alas, before we are near the river. All the people
+will be coming back through the meadows."
+
+"Let us meet them."
+
+"Meet a torrent? Let us have tea in my rooms and go down quietly for the
+other Division."
+
+"Let us go straight on."
+
+Through the square, across the High, down Grove Street, they passed.
+The Duke looked up at the tower of Merton, "os oupot authis alla nyn
+paunstaton." Strange that to-night it would still be standing here,
+in all its sober and solid beauty--still be gazing, over the roofs and
+chimneys, at the tower of Magdalen, its rightful bride. Through untold
+centuries of the future it would stand thus, gaze thus. He winced.
+Oxford walls have a way of belittling us; and the Duke was loth to
+regard his doom as trivial.
+
+Aye, by all minerals we are mocked. Vegetables, yearly deciduous, are
+far more sympathetic. The lilac and laburnum, making lovely now the
+railed pathway to Christ Church meadow, were all a-swaying and a-nodding
+to the Duke as he passed by. "Adieu, adieu, your Grace," they were
+whispering. "We are very sorry for you--very sorry indeed. We never
+dared suppose you would predecease us. We think your death a very great
+tragedy. Adieu! Perhaps we shall meet in another world--that is, if the
+members of the animal kingdom have immortal souls, as we have."
+
+The Duke was little versed in their language; yet, as he passed between
+these gently garrulous blooms, he caught at least the drift of their
+salutation, and smiled a vague but courteous acknowledgment, to the
+right and the left alternately, creating a very favourable impression.
+
+No doubt, the young elms lining the straight way to the barges had seen
+him coming; but any whispers of their leaves were lost in the murmur of
+the crowd returning from the race. Here, at length, came the torrent
+of which the Duke had spoken; and Zuleika's heart rose at it. Here was
+Oxford! From side to side the avenue was filled with a dense procession
+of youths--youths interspersed with maidens whose parasols were as
+flotsam and jetsam on a seething current of straw hats. Zuleika neither
+quickened nor slackened her advance. But brightlier and brightlier shone
+her eyes.
+
+The vanguard of the procession was pausing now, swaying, breaking at
+sight of her. She passed, imperial, through the way cloven for her. All
+a-down the avenue, the throng parted as though some great invisible
+comb were being drawn through it. The few youths who had already
+seen Zuleika, and by whom her beauty had been bruited throughout the
+University, were lost in a new wonder, so incomparably fairer was she
+than the remembered vision. And the rest hardly recognised her from the
+descriptions, so incomparably fairer was the reality than the hope.
+
+She passed among them. None questioned the worthiness of her escort.
+Could I give you better proof the awe in which our Duke was held? Any
+man is glad to be seen escorting a very pretty woman. He thinks it adds
+to his prestige. Whereas, in point of fact, his fellow-men are saying
+merely "Who's that appalling fellow with her?" or "Why does she go about
+with that ass So-and-So?" Such cavil may in part be envy. But it is a
+fact that no man, howsoever graced, can shine in juxtaposition to a very
+pretty woman. The Duke himself cut a poor figure beside Zuleika. Yet not
+one of all the undergraduates felt she could have made a wiser choice.
+
+She swept among them. Her own intrinsic radiance was not all that
+flashed from her. She was a moving reflector and refractor of all the
+rays of all the eyes that mankind had turned on her. Her mien told the
+story of her days. Bright eyes, light feet--she trod erect from a vista
+whose glare was dazzling to all beholders. She swept among them, a
+miracle, overwhelming, breath-bereaving. Nothing at all like her had
+ever been seen in Oxford.
+
+Mainly architectural, the beauties of Oxford. True, the place is no
+longer one-sexed. There are the virguncules of Somerville and Lady
+Margaret's Hall; but beauty and the lust for learning have yet to be
+allied. There are the innumerable wives and daughters around the Parks,
+running in and out of their little red-brick villas; but the indignant
+shade of celibacy seems to have called down on the dons a Nemesis which
+precludes them from either marrying beauty or begetting it. (From the
+Warden's son, that unhappy curate, Zuleika inherited no tittle of
+her charm. Some of it, there is no doubt, she did inherit from the
+circus-rider who was her mother.)
+
+But the casual feminine visitors? Well, the sisters and cousins of an
+undergraduate seldom seem more passable to his comrades than to himself.
+Altogether, the instinct of sex is not pandered to in Oxford. It is not,
+however, as it may once have been, dormant. The modern importation of
+samples of femininity serves to keep it alert, though not to gratify it.
+A like result is achieved by another modern development--photography.
+The undergraduate may, and usually does, surround himself with
+photographs of pretty ladies known to the public. A phantom harem! Yet
+the houris have an effect on their sultan. Surrounded both by plain
+women of flesh and blood and by beauteous women on pasteboard, the
+undergraduate is the easiest victim of living loveliness--is as a fire
+ever well and truly laid, amenable to a spark. And if the spark be such
+a flaring torch as Zuleika?--marvel not, reader, at the conflagration.
+
+Not only was the whole throng of youths drawing asunder before her:
+much of it, as she passed, was forming up in her wake. Thus, with the
+confluence of two masses--one coming away from the river, the other
+returning to it--chaos seethed around her and the Duke before they were
+half-way along the avenue. Behind them, and on either side of them, the
+people were crushed inextricably together, swaying and surging this way
+and that. "Help!" cried many a shrill feminine voice. "Don't push!" "Let
+me out!" "You brute!" "Save me, save me!" Many ladies fainted, whilst
+their escorts, supporting them and protecting them as best they could,
+peered over the heads of their fellows for one glimpse of the divine
+Miss Dobson. Yet for her and the Duke, in the midst of the terrific
+compress, there was space enough. In front of them, as by a miracle
+of deference, a way still cleared itself. They reached the end of the
+avenue without a pause in their measured progress. Nor even when they
+turned to the left, along the rather narrow path beside the barges, was
+there any obstacle to their advance. Passing evenly forward, they alone
+were cool, unhustled, undishevelled.
+
+The Duke was so rapt in his private thoughts that he was hardly
+conscious of the strange scene. And as for Zuleika, she, as well she
+might be, was in the very best of good humours.
+
+"What a lot of house-boats!" she exclaimed. "Are you going to take me on
+to one of them?"
+
+The Duke started. Already they were alongside the Judas barge. "Here,"
+he said, "is our goal."
+
+He stepped through the gate of the railings, out upon the plank, and
+offered her his hand.
+
+She looked back. The young men in the vanguard were crushing their
+shoulders against the row behind them, to stay the oncoming host. She
+had half a mind to go back through the midst of them; but she really did
+want her tea, and she followed the Duke on to the barge, and under his
+auspices climbed the steps to the roof.
+
+It looked very cool and gay, this roof, under its awning of red and
+white stripes. Nests of red and white flowers depended along either side
+of it. Zuleika moved to the side which commanded a view of the bank. She
+leaned her arms on the balustrade, and gazed down.
+
+The crowd stretched as far as she could see--a vista of faces upturned
+to her. Suddenly it hove forward. Its vanguard was swept irresistibly
+past the barge--swept by the desire of the rest to see her at closer
+quarters. Such was the impetus that the vision for each man was but
+a lightning-flash: he was whirled past, struggling, almost before his
+brain took the message of his eyes.
+
+Those who were Judas men made frantic efforts to board the barge, trying
+to hurl themselves through the gate in the railings; but they were swept
+vainly on.
+
+Presently the torrent began to slacken, became a mere river, a mere
+procession of youths staring up rather shyly.
+
+Before the last stragglers had marched by, Zuleika moved away to the
+other side of the roof, and, after a glance at the sunlit river,
+sank into one of the wicker chairs, and asked the Duke to look less
+disagreeable and to give her some tea.
+
+Among others hovering near the little buffet were the two youths whose
+parley with the Duke I have recorded.
+
+Zuleika was aware of the special persistence of their gaze. When the
+Duke came back with her cup, she asked him who they were. He replied,
+truthfully enough, that their names were unknown to him.
+
+"Then," she said, "ask them their names, and introduce them to me."
+
+"No," said the Duke, sinking into the chair beside her. "That I shall
+not do. I am your victim: not your pander. Those two men stand on the
+threshold of a possibly useful and agreeable career. I am not going to
+trip them up for you."
+
+"I am not sure," said Zuleika, "that you are very polite. Certainly you
+are foolish. It is natural for boys to fall in love. If these two are
+in love with me, why not let them talk to me? It were an experience on
+which they would always look back with romantic pleasure. They may never
+see me again. Why grudge them this little thing?" She sipped her tea.
+"As for tripping them up on a threshold--that is all nonsense. What harm
+has unrequited love ever done to anybody?" She laughed. "Look at ME!
+When I came to your rooms this morning, thinking I loved in vain, did I
+seem one jot the worse for it? Did I look different?"
+
+"You looked, I am bound to say, nobler, more spiritual."
+
+"More spiritual?" she exclaimed. "Do you mean I looked tired or ill?"
+
+"No, you seemed quite fresh. But then, you are singular. You are no
+criterion."
+
+"You mean you can't judge those two young men by me? Well, I am only a
+woman, of course. I have heard of women, no longer young, wasting away
+because no man loved them. I have often heard of a young woman fretting
+because some particular young man didn't love her. But I never heard of
+her wasting away. Certainly a young man doesn't waste away for love of
+some particular young woman. He very soon makes love to some other one.
+If his be an ardent nature, the quicker his transition. All the most
+ardent of my past adorers have married. Will you put my cup down,
+please?"
+
+"Past?" echoed the Duke, as he placed her cup on the floor. "Have any of
+your lovers ceased to love you?"
+
+"Ah no, no; not in retrospect. I remain their ideal, and all that, of
+course. They cherish the thought of me. They see the world in terms of
+me. But I am an inspiration, not an obsession; a glow, not a blight."
+
+"You don't believe in the love that corrodes, the love that ruins?"
+
+"No," laughed Zuleika.
+
+"You have never dipped into the Greek pastoral poets, nor sampled the
+Elizabethan sonneteers?"
+
+"No, never. You will think me lamentably crude: my experience of life
+has been drawn from life itself."
+
+"Yet often you talk as though you had read rather much. Your way of
+speech has what is called 'the literary flavour'."
+
+"Ah, that is an unfortunate trick which I caught from a writer, a Mr.
+Beerbohm, who once sat next to me at dinner somewhere. I can't break
+myself of it. I assure you I hardly ever open a book. Of life, though,
+my experience has been very wide. Brief? But I suppose the soul of man
+during the past two or three years has been much as it was in the reign
+of Queen Elizabeth and of--whoever it was that reigned over the Greek
+pastures. And I daresay the modern poets are making the same old silly
+distortions. But forgive me," she added gently, "perhaps you yourself
+are a poet?"
+
+"Only since yesterday," answered the Duke (not less unfairly to himself
+than to Roger Newdigate and Thomas Gaisford). And he felt he was
+especially a dramatic poet. All the while that she had been sitting by
+him here, talking so glibly, looking so straight into his eyes, flashing
+at him so many pretty gestures, it was the sense of tragic irony
+that prevailed in him--that sense which had stirred in him, and been
+repressed, on the way from Judas. He knew that she was making her effect
+consciously for the other young men by whom the roof of the barge was
+now thronged. Him alone she seemed to observe. By her manner, she might
+have seemed to be making love to him. He envied the men she was so
+deliberately making envious--the men whom, in her undertone to him, she
+was really addressing. But he did take comfort in the irony. Though she
+used him as a stalking-horse, he, after all, was playing with her as a
+cat plays with a mouse. While she chattered on, without an inkling that
+he was no ordinary lover, and coaxing him to present two quite ordinary
+young men to her, he held over her the revelation that he for love of
+her was about to die.
+
+And, while he drank in the radiance of her beauty, he heard her
+chattering on. "So you see," she was saying, "it couldn't do those young
+men any harm. Suppose unrequited love IS anguish: isn't the discipline
+wholesome? Suppose I AM a sort of furnace: shan't I purge, refine,
+temper? Those two boys are but scorched from here. That is horrid; and
+what good will it do them?" She laid a hand on his arm. "Cast them into
+the furnace for their own sake, dear Duke! Or cast one of them, or," she
+added, glancing round at the throng, "any one of these others!"
+
+"For their own sake?" he echoed, withdrawing his arm. "If you were not,
+as the whole world knows you to be, perfectly respectable, there might
+be something in what you say. But as it is, you can but be an engine for
+mischief; and your sophistries leave me unmoved. I shall certainly keep
+you to myself."
+
+"I hate you," said Zuleika, with an ugly petulance that crowned the
+irony.
+
+"So long as I live," uttered the Duke, in a level voice, "you will
+address no man but me."
+
+"If your prophecy is to be fulfilled," laughed Zuleika, rising from her
+chair, "your last moment is at hand."
+
+"It is," he answered, rising too.
+
+"What do you mean?" she asked, awed by something in his tone.
+
+"I mean what I say: that my last moment is at hand." He withdrew
+his eyes from hers, and, leaning his elbows on the balustrade, gazed
+thoughtfully at the river. "When I am dead," he added, over his
+shoulder, "you will find these fellows rather coy of your advances."
+
+For the first time since his avowal of his love for her, Zuleika found
+herself genuinely interested in him. A suspicion of his meaning had
+flashed through her soul.--But no! surely he could not mean THAT! It
+must have been a metaphor merely. And yet, something in his eyes... She
+leaned beside him. Her shoulder touched his. She gazed questioningly at
+him. He did not turn his face to her. He gazed at the sunlit river.
+
+The Judas Eight had just embarked for their voyage to the
+starting-point. Standing on the edge of the raft that makes a floating
+platform for the barge, William, the hoary bargee, was pushing them off
+with his boat-hook, wishing them luck with deferential familiarity.
+The raft was thronged with Old Judasians--mostly clergymen--who were
+shouting hearty hortations, and evidently trying not to appear so old
+as they felt--or rather, not to appear so startlingly old as their
+contemporaries looked to them. It occurred to the Duke as a strange
+thing, and a thing to be glad of, that he, in this world, would never be
+an Old Judasian. Zuleika's shoulder pressed his. He thrilled not at all.
+To all intents, he was dead already.
+
+The enormous eight young men in the thread-like skiff--the skiff that
+would scarce have seemed an adequate vehicle for the tiny "cox" who sat
+facing them--were staring up at Zuleika with that uniformity of impulse
+which, in another direction, had enabled them to bump a boat on two of
+the previous "nights." If to-night they bumped the next boat, Univ.,
+then would Judas be three places "up" on the river; and to-morrow Judas
+would have a Bump Supper. Furthermore, if Univ. were bumped to-night,
+Magdalen might be bumped to-morrow. Then would Judas, for the first
+time in history, be head of the river. Oh tremulous hope! Yet, for
+the moment, these eight young men seemed to have forgotten the awful
+responsibility that rested on their over-developed shoulders. Their
+hearts, already strained by rowing, had been transfixed this afternoon
+by Eros' darts. All of them had seen Zuleika as she came down to the
+river; and now they sat gaping up at her, fumbling with their oars. The
+tiny cox gaped too; but he it was who first recalled duty. With piping
+adjurations he brought the giants back to their senses. The boat moved
+away down stream, with a fairly steady stroke.
+
+Not in a day can the traditions of Oxford be sent spinning. From all the
+barges the usual punt-loads of young men were being ferried across
+to the towing-path--young men naked of knee, armed with rattles,
+post-horns, motor-hooters, gongs, and other instruments of clangour.
+Though Zuleika filled their thoughts, they hurried along the
+towing-path, as by custom, to the starting-point.
+
+She, meanwhile, had not taken her eyes off the Duke's profile. Nor
+had she dared, for fear of disappointment, to ask him just what he had
+meant.
+
+"All these men," he repeated dreamily, "will be coy of your advances."
+It seemed to him a good thing that his death, his awful example, would
+disinfatuate his fellow alumni. He had never been conscious of
+public spirit. He had lived for himself alone. Love had come to him
+yesternight, and to-day had waked in him a sympathy with mankind. It
+was a fine thing to be a saviour. It was splendid to be human. He looked
+quickly round to her who had wrought this change in him.
+
+But the loveliest face in all the world will not please you if you see
+it suddenly, eye to eye, at a distance of half an inch from your own.
+It was thus that the Duke saw Zuleika's: a monstrous deliquium a-glare.
+Only for the fraction of an instant, though. Recoiling, he beheld the
+loveliness that he knew--more adorably vivid now in its look of eager
+questioning. And in his every fibre he thrilled to her. Even so had she
+gazed at him last night, this morning. Aye, now as then, her soul was
+full of him. He had recaptured, not her love, but his power to please
+her. It was enough. He bowed his head; and "Moriturus te saluto" were
+the words formed silently by his lips. He was glad that his death would
+be a public service to the University. But the salutary lesson of
+what the newspapers would call his "rash act" was, after all, only a
+side-issue. The great thing, the prospect that flushed his cheek, was
+the consummation of his own love, for its own sake, by his own death.
+And, as he met her gaze, the question that had already flitted through
+his brain found a faltering utterance; and "Shall you mourn me?" he
+asked her.
+
+But she would have no ellipses. "What are you going to do?" she
+whispered.
+
+"Do you not know?"
+
+"Tell me."
+
+"Once and for all: you cannot love me?"
+
+Slowly she shook her head. The black pearl and the pink, quivering, gave
+stress to her ultimatum. But the violet of her eyes was all but hidden
+by the dilation of her pupils.
+
+"Then," whispered the Duke, "when I shall have died, deeming life a vain
+thing without you, will the gods give you tears for me? Miss Dobson,
+will your soul awaken? When I shall have sunk for ever beneath these
+waters whose supposed purpose here this afternoon is but that they be
+ploughed by the blades of these young oarsmen, will there be struck from
+that flint, your heart, some late and momentary spark of pity for me?"
+
+"Why of course, of COURSE!" babbled Zuleika, with clasped hands and
+dazzling eyes. "But," she curbed herself, "it is--it would--oh, you
+mustn't THINK of it! I couldn't allow it! I--I should never forgive
+myself!"
+
+"In fact, you would mourn me always?"
+
+"Why yes!.. Y-es-always." What else could she say? But would his answer
+be that he dared not condemn her to lifelong torment?
+
+"Then," his answer was, "my joy in dying for you is made perfect."
+
+Her muscles relaxed. Her breath escaped between her teeth. "You are
+utterly resolved?" she asked. "Are you?"
+
+"Utterly."
+
+"Nothing I might say could change your purpose?"
+
+"Nothing."
+
+"No entreaty, howsoever piteous, could move you?"
+
+"None."
+
+Forthwith she urged, entreated, cajoled, commanded, with infinite
+prettiness of ingenuity and of eloquence. Never was such a cascade of
+dissuasion as hers. She only didn't say she could love him. She never
+hinted that. Indeed, throughout her pleading rang this recurrent motif:
+that he must live to take to himself as mate some good, serious, clever
+woman who would be a not unworthy mother of his children.
+
+She laid stress on his youth, his great position, his brilliant
+attainments, the much he had already achieved, the splendid
+possibilities of his future. Though of course she spoke in undertones,
+not to be overheard by the throng on the barge, it was almost as though
+his health were being floridly proposed at some public banquet--say,
+at a Tenants' Dinner. Insomuch that, when she ceased, the Duke half
+expected Jellings, his steward, to bob up uttering, with lifted hands, a
+stentorian "For-or," and all the company to take up the chant: "he's--a
+jolly good fellow." His brief reply, on those occasions, seemed always
+to indicate that, whatever else he might be, a jolly good fellow he was
+not. But by Zuleika's eulogy he really was touched. "Thank you--thank
+you," he gasped; and there were tears in his eyes. Dear the thought that
+she so revered him, so wished him not to die. But this was no more than
+a rush-light in the austere radiance of his joy in dying for her.
+
+And the time was come. Now for the sacrament of his immersion in
+infinity.
+
+"Good-bye," he said simply, and was about to swing himself on to the
+ledge of the balustrade. Zuleika, divining his intention, made way for
+him. Her bosom heaved quickly, quickly. All colour had left her face;
+but her eyes shone as never before.
+
+Already his foot was on the ledge, when hark! the sound of a distant
+gun. To Zuleika, with all the chords of her soul strung to the utmost
+tensity, the effect was as if she herself had been shot; and she
+clutched at the Duke's arm, like a frightened child. He laughed. "It was
+the signal for the race," he said, and laughed again, rather bitterly,
+at the crude and trivial interruption of high matters.
+
+"The race?" She laughed hysterically.
+
+"Yes. 'They're off'." He mingled his laughter with hers, gently seeking
+to disengage his arm. "And perhaps," he said, "I, clinging to the weeds
+of the river's bed, shall see dimly the boats and the oars pass over me,
+and shall be able to gurgle a cheer for Judas."
+
+"Don't!" she shuddered, with a woman's notion that a jest means levity.
+A tumult of thoughts surged in her, all confused. She only knew that
+he must not die--not yet! A moment ago, his death would have been
+beautiful. Not now! Her grip of his arm tightened. Only by breaking her
+wrist could he have freed himself. A moment ago, she had been in the
+seventh-heaven... Men were supposed to have died for love of her. It
+had never been proved. There had always been something--card-debts,
+ill-health, what not--to account for the tragedy. No man, to the best
+of her recollection, had ever hinted that he was going to die for her.
+Never, assuredly, had she seen the deed done. And then came he, the
+first man she had loved, going to die here, before her eyes, because she
+no longer loved him. But she knew now that he must not die--not yet!
+
+All around her was the hush that falls on Oxford when the signal for the
+race has sounded. In the distance could be heard faintly the noise of
+cheering--a little sing-song sound, drawing nearer.
+
+Ah, how could she have thought of letting him die so soon? She gazed
+into his face--the face she might never have seen again. Even now, but
+for that gun-shot, the waters would have closed over him, and his soul,
+maybe, have passed away. She had saved him, thank heaven! She had him
+still with her.
+
+Gently, vainly, he still sought to unclasp her fingers from his arm.
+
+"Not now!" she whispered. "Not yet!"
+
+And the noise of the cheering, and of the trumpeting and rattling, as
+it drew near, was an accompaniment to her joy in having saved her lover.
+She would keep him with her--for a while! Let all be done in order. She
+would savour the full sweetness of his sacrifice. Tomorrow--to-morrow,
+yes, let him have his heart's desire of death. Not now! Not yet!
+
+"To-morrow," she whispered, "to-morrow, if you will. Not yet!"
+
+The first boat came jerking past in mid-stream; and the towing-path,
+with its serried throng of runners, was like a live thing, keeping pace.
+As in a dream, Zuleika saw it. And the din was in her ears. No heroine
+of Wagner had ever a louder accompaniment than had ours to the surging
+soul within her bosom.
+
+And the Duke, tightly held by her, vibrated as to a powerful electric
+current. He let her cling to him, and her magnetism range through him.
+Ah, it was good not to have died! Fool, he had meant to drain off-hand,
+at one coarse draught, the delicate wine of death. He would let his lips
+caress the brim of the august goblet. He would dally with the aroma that
+was there.
+
+"So be it!" he cried into Zuleika's ear--cried loudly, for it seemed as
+though all the Wagnerian orchestras of Europe, with the Straussian ones
+thrown in, were here to clash in unison the full volume of right music
+for the glory of the reprieve.
+
+The fact was that the Judas boat had just bumped Univ., exactly opposite
+the Judas barge. The oarsmen in either boat sat humped, panting, some of
+them rocking and writhing, after their wholesome exercise. But there
+was not one of them whose eyes were not upcast at Zuleika. And the
+vocalisation and instrumentation of the dancers and stampers on the
+towing-path had by this time ceased to mean aught of joy in the victors
+or of comfort for the vanquished, and had resolved itself into a wild
+wordless hymn to the glory of Miss Dobson. Behind her and all around her
+on the roof of the barge, young Judasians were venting in like manner
+their hearts through their lungs. She paid no heed. It was as if she
+stood alone with her lover on some silent pinnacle of the world. It was
+as if she were a little girl with a brand-new and very expensive doll
+which had banished all the little other old toys from her mind.
+
+She simply could not, in her naive rapture, take her eyes off her
+companion. To the dancers and stampers of the towing-path, many of whom
+were now being ferried back across the river, and to the other youths
+on the roof of the barge, Zuleika's air of absorption must have seemed
+a little strange. For already the news that the Duke loved Zuleika, and
+that she loved him not, and would stoop to no man who loved her, had
+spread like wild-fire among the undergraduates. The two youths in whom
+the Duke had deigned to confide had not held their peace. And the effect
+that Zuleika had made as she came down to the river was intensified by
+the knowledge that not the great paragon himself did she deem worthy of
+her. The mere sight of her had captured young Oxford. The news of her
+supernal haughtiness had riveted the chains.
+
+"Come!" said the Duke at length, staring around him with the eyes of one
+awakened from a dream. "Come! I must take you back to Judas."
+
+"But you won't leave me there?" pleaded Zuleika. "You will stay to
+dinner? I am sure my grandfather would be delighted."
+
+"I am sure he would," said the Duke, as he piloted her down the steps of
+the barge. "But alas, I have to dine at the Junta to-night."
+
+"The Junta? What is that?"
+
+"A little dining-club. It meets every Tuesday."
+
+"But--you don't mean you are going to refuse me for that?"
+
+"To do so is misery. But I have no choice. I have asked a guest."
+
+"Then ask another: ask me!" Zuleika's notions of Oxford life were rather
+hazy. It was with difficulty that the Duke made her realise that he
+could not--not even if, as she suggested, she dressed herself up as a
+man--invite her to the Junta. She then fell back on the impossibility
+that he would not dine with her to-night, his last night in this world.
+She could not understand that admirable fidelity to social engagements
+which is one of the virtues implanted in the members of our aristocracy.
+Bohemian by training and by career, she construed the Duke's refusal as
+either a cruel slight to herself or an act of imbecility. The thought of
+being parted from her for one moment was torture to him; but "noblesse
+oblige," and it was quite impossible for him to break an engagement
+merely because a more charming one offered itself: he would as soon have
+cheated at cards.
+
+And so, as they went side by side up the avenue, in the mellow light
+of the westering sun, preceded in their course, and pursued, and
+surrounded, by the mob of hoarse infatuate youths, Zuleika's face was
+as that of a little girl sulking. Vainly the Duke reasoned with her. She
+could NOT see the point of view.
+
+With that sudden softening that comes to the face of an angry woman who
+has hit on a good argument, she turned to him and asked "How if I hadn't
+saved your life just now? Much you thought about your guest when you
+were going to dive and die!"
+
+"I did not forget him," answered the Duke, smiling at her casuistry.
+"Nor had I any scruple in disappointing him. Death cancels all
+engagements."
+
+And Zuleika, worsted, resumed her sulking. But presently, as they neared
+Judas, she relented. It was paltry to be cross with him who had resolved
+to die for her and was going to die so on the morrow. And after all, she
+would see him at the concert to-night. They would sit together. And all
+to-morrow they would be together, till the time came for parting. Hers
+was a naturally sunny disposition. And the evening was such a lovely
+one, all bathed in gold. She was ashamed of her ill-humour.
+
+"Forgive me," she said, touching his arm. "Forgive me for being horrid."
+And forgiven she promptly was. "And promise you will spend all to-morrow
+with me." And of course he promised.
+
+As they stood together on the steps of the Warden's front-door, exalted
+above the level of the flushed and swaying crowd that filled the whole
+length and breadth of Judas Street, she implored him not to be late for
+the concert.
+
+"I am never late," he smiled.
+
+"Ah, you're so beautifully brought up!"
+
+The door was opened.
+
+"And--oh, you're beautiful besides!" she whispered; and waved her hand
+to him as she vanished into the hall.
+
+
+
+
+VIII
+
+A few minutes before half-past seven, the Duke, arrayed for dinner,
+passed leisurely up the High. The arresting feature of his costume was
+a mulberry-coloured coat, with brass buttons. This, to any one versed in
+Oxford lore, betokened him a member of the Junta. It is awful to think
+that a casual stranger might have mistaken him for a footman. It does
+not do to think of such things.
+
+The tradesmen, at the doors of their shops, bowed low as he passed,
+rubbing their hands and smiling, hoping inwardly that they took no
+liberty in sharing the cool rosy air of the evening with his Grace. They
+noted that he wore in his shirt-front a black pearl and a pink. "Daring,
+but becoming," they opined.
+
+The rooms of the Junta were over a stationer's shop, next door but one
+to the Mitre. They were small rooms; but as the Junta had now, besides
+the Duke, only two members, and as no member might introduce more than
+one guest, there was ample space.
+
+The Duke had been elected in his second term. At that time there were
+four members; but these were all leaving Oxford at the end of the summer
+term, and there seemed to be in the ranks of the Bullingdon and the
+Loder no one quite eligible for the Junta, that holy of holies. Thus it
+was that the Duke inaugurated in solitude his second year of membership.
+From time to time, he proposed and seconded a few candidates, after
+"sounding" them as to whether they were willing to join. But always,
+when election evening--the last Tuesday of term--drew near, he began to
+have his doubts about these fellows. This one was "rowdy"; that one
+was over-dressed; another did not ride quite straight to hounds; in the
+pedigree of another a bar-sinister was more than suspected. Election
+evening was always a rather melancholy time. After dinner, when the two
+club servants had placed on the mahogany the time-worn Candidates' Book
+and the ballot-box, and had noiselessly withdrawn, the Duke, clearing
+his throat, read aloud to himself "Mr. So-and-So, of Such-and-Such
+College, proposed by the Duke of Dorset, seconded by the Duke of
+Dorset," and, in every case, when he drew out the drawer of the
+ballot-box, found it was a black-ball that he had dropped into the urn.
+Thus it was that at the end of the summer term the annual photographic
+"group" taken by Messrs. Hills and Saunders was a presentment of the
+Duke alone.
+
+In the course of his third year he had become less exclusive. Not
+because there seemed to be any one really worthy of the Junta; but
+because the Junta, having thriven since the eighteenth century, must
+not die. Suppose--one never knew--he were struck by lightning, the Junta
+would be no more. So, not without reluctance, but unanimously, he had
+elected The MacQuern, of Balliol, and Sir John Marraby, of Brasenose.
+
+To-night, as he, a doomed man, went up into the familiar rooms, he was
+wholly glad that he had thus relented. As yet, he was spared the tragic
+knowledge that it would make no difference.*
+
+   * The Junta has been reconstituted. But the apostolic line was
+     broken, the thread was snapped; the old magic is fled.
+
+The MacQuern and two other young men were already there.
+
+"Mr. President," said The MacQuern, "I present Mr. Trent-Garby, of
+Christ Church."
+
+"The Junta is honoured," said the Duke, bowing.
+
+Such was the ritual of the club.
+
+The other young man, because his host, Sir John Marraby, was not yet on
+the scene, had no locus standi, and, though a friend of The MacQuern,
+and well known to the Duke, had to be ignored.
+
+A moment later, Sir John arrived. "Mr. President," he said, "I present
+Lord Sayes, of Magdalen."
+
+"The Junta is honoured," said the Duke, bowing.
+
+Both hosts and both guests, having been prominent in the throng that
+vociferated around Zuleika an hour earlier, were slightly abashed in
+the Duke's presence. He, however, had not noticed any one in particular,
+and, even if he had, that fine tradition of the club--"A member of the
+Junta can do no wrong; a guest of the Junta cannot err"--would have
+prevented him from showing his displeasure.
+
+A Herculean figure filled the doorway.
+
+"The Junta is honoured," said the Duke, bowing to his guest.
+
+"Duke," said the newcomer quietly, "the honour is as much mine as
+that of the interesting and ancient institution which I am this night
+privileged to inspect."
+
+Turning to Sir John and The MacQuern, the Duke said "I present Mr.
+Abimelech V. Oover, of Trinity."
+
+"The Junta," they replied, "is honoured."
+
+"Gentlemen," said the Rhodes Scholar, "your good courtesy is just such
+as I would have anticipated from members of the ancient Junta. Like most
+of my countrymen, I am a man of few words. We are habituated out there
+to act rather than talk. Judged from the view-point of your beautiful
+old civilisation, I am aware my curtness must seem crude. But,
+gentlemen, believe me, right here--"
+
+"Dinner is served, your Grace."
+
+Thus interrupted, Mr. Oover, with the resourcefulness of a practised
+orator, brought his thanks to a quick but not abrupt conclusion. The
+little company passed into the front room.
+
+Through the window, from the High, fading daylight mingled with the
+candle-light. The mulberry coats of the hosts, interspersed by the black
+ones of the guests, made a fine pattern around the oval table a-gleam
+with the many curious pieces of gold and silver plate that had accrued
+to the Junta in course of years.
+
+The President showed much deference to his guest. He seemed to listen
+with close attention to the humorous anecdote with which, in the
+American fashion, Mr. Oover inaugurated dinner.
+
+To all Rhodes Scholars, indeed, his courtesy was invariable. He went out
+of his way to cultivate them. And this he did more as a favour to Lord
+Milner than of his own caprice. He found these Scholars, good fellows
+though they were, rather oppressive. They had not--how could they
+have?--the undergraduate's virtue of taking Oxford as a matter of
+course. The Germans loved it too little, the Colonials too much. The
+Americans were, to a sensitive observer, the most troublesome--as being
+the most troubled--of the whole lot. The Duke was not one of those
+Englishmen who fling, or care to hear flung, cheap sneers at America.
+Whenever any one in his presence said that America was not large
+in area, he would firmly maintain that it was. He held, too, in his
+enlightened way, that Americans have a perfect right to exist. But
+he did often find himself wishing Mr. Rhodes had not enabled them to
+exercise that right in Oxford. They were so awfully afraid of having
+their strenuous native characters undermined by their delight in the
+place. They held that the future was theirs, a glorious asset, far more
+glorious than the past. But a theory, as the Duke saw, is one thing, an
+emotion another. It is so much easier to covet what one hasn't than to
+revel in what one has. Also, it is so much easier to be enthusiastic
+about what exists than about what doesn't. The future doesn't exist. The
+past does. For, whereas all men can learn, the gift of prophecy has died
+out. A man cannot work up in his breast any real excitement about what
+possibly won't happen. He cannot very well help being sentimentally
+interested in what he knows has happened. On the other hand, he owes a
+duty to his country. And, if his country be America, he ought to try to
+feel a vivid respect for the future, and a cold contempt for the past.
+Also, if he be selected by his country as a specimen of the best moral,
+physical, and intellectual type that she can produce for the astounding
+of the effete foreigner, and incidentally for the purpose of raising
+that foreigner's tone, he must--mustn't he?--do his best to astound,
+to exalt. But then comes in this difficulty. Young men don't like to
+astound and exalt their fellows. And Americans, individually, are of
+all people the most anxious to please. That they talk overmuch is often
+taken as a sign of self-satisfaction. It is merely a mannerism. Rhetoric
+is a thing inbred in them. They are quite unconscious of it. It is as
+natural to them as breathing. And, while they talk on, they really do
+believe that they are a quick, businesslike people, by whom things are
+"put through" with an almost brutal abruptness. This notion of theirs is
+rather confusing to the patient English auditor.
+
+Altogether, the American Rhodes Scholars, with their splendid native
+gift of oratory, and their modest desire to please, and their not less
+evident feeling that they ought merely to edify, and their constant
+delight in all that of Oxford their English brethren don't notice, and
+their constant fear that they are being corrupted, are a noble, rather
+than a comfortable, element in the social life of the University. So, at
+least, they seemed to the Duke.
+
+And to-night, but that he had invited Oover to dine with him, he could
+have been dining with Zuleika. And this was his last dinner on earth.
+Such thoughts made him the less able to take pleasure in his guest.
+Perfect, however, the amenity of his manner.
+
+This was the more commendable because Oover's "aura" was even more
+disturbing than that of the average Rhodes Scholar. To-night, besides
+the usual conflicts in this young man's bosom, raged a special one
+between his desire to behave well and his jealousy of the man who had
+to-day been Miss Dobson's escort. In theory he denied the Duke's right
+to that honour. In sentiment he admitted it. Another conflict, you see.
+And another. He longed to orate about the woman who had his heart; yet
+she was the one topic that must be shirked.
+
+The MacQuern and Mr. Trent-Garby, Sir John Marraby and Lord Sayes, they
+too--though they were no orators--would fain have unpacked their hearts
+in words about Zuleika. They spoke of this and that, automatically, none
+listening to another--each man listening, wide-eyed, to his own heart's
+solo on the Zuleika theme, and drinking rather more champagne than was
+good for him. Maybe, these youths sowed in themselves, on this night,
+the seeds of lifelong intemperance. We cannot tell. They did not live
+long enough for us to know.
+
+While the six dined, a seventh, invisible to them, leaned moodily
+against the mantel-piece, watching them. He was not of their time. His
+long brown hair was knotted in a black riband behind. He wore a pale
+brocaded coat and lace ruffles, silken stockings, a sword. Privy to
+their doom, he watched them. He was loth that his Junta must die. Yes,
+his. Could the diners have seen him, they would have known him by his
+resemblance to the mezzotint portrait that hung on the wall above him.
+They would have risen to their feet in presence of Humphrey Greddon,
+founder and first president of the club.
+
+His face was not so oval, nor were his eyes so big, nor his lips so
+full, nor his hands so delicate, as they appeared in the mezzotint. Yet
+(bating the conventions of eighteenth-century portraiture) the likeness
+was a good one. Humphrey Greddon was not less well-knit and graceful
+than the painter had made him, and, hard though the lines of the face
+were, there was about him a certain air of high romance that could not
+be explained away by the fact that he was of a period not our own. You
+could understand the great love that Nellie O'Mora had borne him.
+
+Under the mezzotint hung Hoppner's miniature of that lovely and
+ill-starred girl, with her soft dark eyes, and her curls all astray from
+beneath her little blue turban. And the Duke was telling Mr. Oover her
+story--how she had left her home for Humphrey Greddon when she was but
+sixteen, and he an undergraduate at Christ Church; and had lived for him
+in a cottage at Littlemore, whither he would ride, most days, to be with
+her; and how he tired of her, broke his oath that he would marry her,
+thereby broke her heart; and how she drowned herself in a mill-pond; and
+how Greddon was killed in Venice, two years later, duelling on the Riva
+Schiavoni with a Senator whose daughter he had seduced.
+
+And he, Greddon, was not listening very attentively to the tale. He
+had heard it told so often in this room, and he did not understand
+the sentiments of the modern world. Nellie had been a monstrous pretty
+creature. He had adored her, and had done with her. It was right that
+she should always be toasted after dinner by the Junta, as in the days
+when first he loved her--"Here's to Nellie O'Mora, the fairest witch
+that ever was or will be!" He would have resented the omission of that
+toast. But he was sick of the pitying, melting looks that were always
+cast towards her miniature. Nellie had been beautiful, but, by God! she
+was always a dunce and a simpleton. How could he have spent his life
+with her? She was a fool, by God! not to marry that fool Trailby, of
+Merton, whom he took to see her.
+
+Mr. Oover's moral tone, and his sense of chivalry, were of the American
+kind: far higher than ours, even, and far better expressed. Whereas the
+English guests of the Junta, when they heard the tale of Nellie O'Mora,
+would merely murmur "Poor girl!" or "What a shame!" Mr. Oover said in a
+tone of quiet authority that compelled Greddon's ear "Duke, I hope I am
+not incognisant of the laws that govern the relations of guest and host.
+But, Duke, I aver deliberately that the founder of this fine old
+club; at which you are so splendidly entertaining me to-night, was an
+unmitigated scoundrel. I say he was not a white man."
+
+At the word "scoundrel," Humphrey Greddon had sprung forward, drawing
+his sword, and loudly, in a voice audible to himself alone, challenged
+the American to make good his words. Then, as this gentleman took no
+notice, with one clean straight thrust Greddon ran him through the
+heart, shouting "Die, you damned psalm-singer and traducer! And so die
+all rebels against King George!"* Withdrawing the blade, he wiped it
+daintily on his cambric handkerchief. There was no blood. Mr. Oover,
+with unpunctured shirt-front, was repeating "I say he was not a white
+man." And Greddon remembered himself--remembered he was only a ghost,
+impalpable, impotent, of no account. "But I shall meet you in Hell
+to-morrow," he hissed in Oover's face. And there he was wrong. It is
+quite certain that Oover went to Heaven.
+
+   * As Edward VII. was at this time on the throne, it must have been
+     to George III. that Mr. Greddon was referring.
+
+Unable to avenge himself, Greddon had looked to the Duke to act for him.
+When he saw that this young man did but smile at Oover and make a vague
+deprecatory gesture, he again, in his wrath, forgot his disabilities.
+Drawing himself to his full height, he took with great deliberation a
+pinch of snuff, and, bowing low to the Duke, said "I am vastly obleeged
+to your Grace for the fine high Courage you have exhibited in the behalf
+of your most Admiring, most Humble Servant." Then, having brushed away
+a speck of snuff from his jabot, he turned on his heel; and only in the
+doorway, where one of the club servants, carrying a decanter in each
+hand, walked straight through him, did he realise that he had not
+spoilt the Duke's evening. With a volley of the most appalling
+eighteenth-century oaths, he passed back into the nether world.
+
+To the Duke, Nellie O'Mora had never been a very vital figure. He had
+often repeated the legend of her. But, having never known what love was,
+he could not imagine her rapture or her anguish. Himself the quarry of
+all Mayfair's wise virgins, he had always--so far as he thought of
+the matter at all--suspected that Nellie's death was due to thwarted
+ambition. But to-night, while he told Oover about her, he could see
+into her soul. Nor did he pity her. She had loved. She had known the
+one thing worth living for--and dying for. She, as she went down to the
+mill-pond, had felt just that ecstasy of self-sacrifice which he himself
+had felt to-day and would feel to-morrow. And for a while, too--for a
+full year--she had known the joy of being loved, had been for Greddon
+"the fairest witch that ever was or will be." He could not agree with
+Oover's long disquisition on her sufferings. And, glancing at her
+well-remembered miniature, he wondered just what it was in her that had
+captivated Greddon. He was in that blest state when a man cannot believe
+the earth has been trodden by any really beautiful or desirable lady
+save the lady of his own heart.
+
+The moment had come for the removal of the table-cloth. The mahogany of
+the Junta was laid bare--a clear dark lake, anon to reflect in its still
+and ruddy depths the candelabras and the fruit-cradles, the slender
+glasses and the stout old decanters, the forfeit-box and the snuff-box,
+and other paraphernalia of the dignity of dessert. Lucidly, and
+unwaveringly inverted in the depths these good things stood; and, so
+soon as the wine had made its circuit, the Duke rose and with uplifted
+glass proposed the first of the two toasts traditional to the Junta.
+"Gentlemen, I give you Church and State."
+
+The toast having been honoured by all--and by none with a richer
+reverence than by Oover, despite his passionate mental reservation in
+favour of Pittsburg-Anabaptism and the Republican Ideal--the snuff-box
+was handed round, and fruit was eaten.
+
+Presently, when the wine had gone round again, the Duke rose and with
+uplifted glass said "Gentlemen, I give you--" and there halted.
+Silent, frowning, flushed, he stood for a few moments, and then, with
+a deliberate gesture, tilted his glass and let fall the wine to the
+carpet. "No," he said, looking round the table, "I cannot give you
+Nellie O'Mora."
+
+"Why not?" gasped Sir John Marraby.
+
+"You have a right to ask that," said the Duke, still standing. "I can
+only say that my conscience is stronger than my sense of what is due to
+the customs of the club. Nellie O'Mora," he said, passing his hand over
+his brow, "may have been in her day the fairest witch that ever was--so
+fair that our founder had good reason to suppose her the fairest witch
+that ever would be. But his prediction was a false one. So at least it
+seems to me. Of course I cannot both hold this view and remain President
+of this club. MacQuern--Marraby--which of you is Vice-President?"
+
+"He is," said Marraby.
+
+"Then, MacQuern, you are hereby President, vice myself resigned. Take
+the chair and propose the toast."
+
+"I would rather not," said The MacQuern after a pause.
+
+"Then, Marraby, YOU must."
+
+"Not I!" said Marraby.
+
+"Why is this?" asked the Duke, looking from one to the other.
+
+The MacQuern, with Scotch caution, was silent. But the impulsive
+Marraby--Madcap Marraby, as they called him in B.N.C.--said "It's
+because I won't lie!" and, leaping up, raised his glass aloft and cried
+"I give you Zuleika Dobson, the fairest witch that ever was or will be!"
+
+Mr. Oover, Lord Sayes, Mr. Trent-Garby, sprang to their feet; The
+MacQuern rose to his. "Zuleika Dobson!" they cried, and drained their
+glasses.
+
+Then, when they had resumed their seats, came an awkward pause. The
+Duke, still erect beside the chair he had vacated, looked very grave
+and pale. Marraby had taken an outrageous liberty. But "a member of the
+Junta can do no wrong," and the liberty could not be resented. The Duke
+felt that the blame was on himself, who had elected Marraby to the club.
+
+Mr. Oover, too, looked grave. All the antiquarian in him deplored
+the sudden rupture of a fine old Oxford tradition. All the chivalrous
+American in him resented the slight on that fair victim of the feudal
+system, Miss O'Mora. And, at the same time, all the Abimelech V. in him
+rejoiced at having honoured by word and act the one woman in the world.
+
+Gazing around at the flushed faces and heaving shirt-fronts of the
+diners, the Duke forgot Marraby's misdemeanour. What mattered far more
+to him was that here were five young men deeply under the spell of
+Zuleika. They must be saved, if possible. He knew how strong his
+influence was in the University. He knew also how strong was Zuleika's.
+He had not much hope of the issue. But his new-born sense of duty to his
+fellows spurred him on. "Is there," he asked with a bitter smile, "any
+one of you who doesn't with his whole heart love Miss Dobson?"
+
+Nobody held up a hand.
+
+"As I feared," said the Duke, knowing not that if a hand had been held
+up he would have taken it as a personal insult. No man really in love
+can forgive another for not sharing his ardour. His jealousy for himself
+when his beloved prefers another man is hardly a stronger passion than
+his jealousy for her when she is not preferred to all other women.
+
+"You know her only by sight--by repute?" asked the Duke. They signified
+that this was so. "I wish you would introduce me to her," said Marraby.
+
+"You are all coming to the Judas concert tonight?" the Duke asked,
+ignoring Marraby. "You have all secured tickets?" They nodded. "To hear
+me play, or to see Miss Dobson?" There was a murmur of "Both--both."
+"And you would all of you, like Marraby, wish to be presented to this
+lady?" Their eyes dilated. "That way happiness lies, think you?"
+
+"Oh, happiness be hanged!" said Marraby.
+
+To the Duke this seemed a profoundly sane remark--an epitome of his own
+sentiments. But what was right for himself was not right for all. He
+believed in convention as the best way for average mankind. And so,
+slowly, calmly, he told to his fellow-diners just what he had told a few
+hours earlier to those two young men in Salt Cellar. Not knowing that
+his words had already been spread throughout Oxford, he was rather
+surprised that they seemed to make no sensation. Quite flat, too, fell
+his appeal that the syren be shunned by all.
+
+Mr. Oover, during his year of residence, had been sorely tried by the
+quaint old English custom of not making public speeches after private
+dinners. It was with a deep sigh of satisfaction that he now rose to his
+feet.
+
+"Duke," he said in a low voice, which yet penetrated to every corner
+of the room, "I guess I am voicing these gentlemen when I say that your
+words show up your good heart, all the time. Your mentality, too, is
+bully, as we all predicate. One may say without exaggeration that your
+scholarly and social attainments are a by-word throughout the solar
+system, and be-yond. We rightly venerate you as our boss. Sir, we
+worship the ground you walk on. But we owe a duty to our own free and
+independent manhood. Sir, we worship the ground Miss Z. Dobson treads
+on. We have pegged out a claim right there. And from that location
+we aren't to be budged--not for bob-nuts. We asseverate we
+squat--where--we--squat, come--what--will. You say we have no chance to
+win Miss Z. Dobson. That--we--know. We aren't worthy. We lie prone. Let
+her walk over us. You say her heart is cold. We don't pro-fess we
+can take the chill off. But, Sir, we can't be diverted out of loving
+her--not even by you, Sir. No, Sir! We love her, and--shall, and--will,
+Sir, with--our--latest breath."
+
+This peroration evoked loud applause. "I love her, and shall, and will,"
+shouted each man. And again they honoured in wine her image. Sir John
+Marraby uttered a cry familiar in the hunting-field. The MacQuern
+contributed a few bars of a sentimental ballad in the dialect of his
+country. "Hurrah, hurrah!" shouted Mr. Trent-Garby. Lord Sayes hummed
+the latest waltz, waving his arms to its rhythm, while the wine he had
+just spilt on his shirt-front trickled unheeded to his waistcoat. Mr.
+Oover gave the Yale cheer.
+
+The genial din was wafted down through the open window to the
+passers-by. The wine-merchant across the way heard it, and smiled
+pensively. "Youth, youth!" he murmured.
+
+The genial din grew louder.
+
+At any other time, the Duke would have been jarred by the disgrace to
+the Junta. But now, as he stood with bent head, covering his face with
+his hands, he thought only of the need to rid these young men, here
+and now, of the influence that had befallen them. To-morrow his tragic
+example might be too late, the mischief have sunk too deep, the agony be
+life-long. His good breeding forbade him to cast over a dinner-table the
+shadow of his death. His conscience insisted that he must. He uncovered
+his face, and held up one hand for silence.
+
+"We are all of us," he said, "old enough to remember vividly the
+demonstrations made in the streets of London when war was declared
+between us and the Transvaal Republic. You, Mr. Oover, doubtless heard
+in America the echoes of those ebullitions. The general idea was that
+the war was going to be a very brief and simple affair--what was called
+'a walk-over.' To me, though I was only a small boy, it seemed that all
+this delirious pride in the prospect of crushing a trumpery foe argued
+a defect in our sense of proportion. Still, I was able to understand the
+demonstrators' point of view. To 'the giddy vulgar' any sort of victory
+is pleasant. But defeat? If, when that war was declared, every one had
+been sure that not only should we fail to conquer the Transvaal, but
+that IT would conquer US--that not only would it make good its freedom
+and independence, but that we should forfeit ours--how would the
+cits have felt then? Would they not have pulled long faces, spoken in
+whispers, wept? You must forgive me for saying that the noise you have
+just made around this table was very like to the noise made on the verge
+of the Boer War. And your procedure seems to me as unaccountable as
+would have seemed the antics of those mobs if England had been plainly
+doomed to disaster and to vassalage. My guest here to-night, in the
+course of his very eloquent and racy speech, spoke of the need that he
+and you should preserve your 'free and independent manhood.' That seemed
+to me an irreproachable ideal. But I confess I was somewhat taken aback
+by my friend's scheme for realising it. He declared his intention of
+lying prone and letting Miss Dobson 'walk over' him; and he advised you
+to follow his example; and to this counsel you gave evident approval.
+Gentlemen, suppose that on the verge of the aforesaid war, some orator
+had said to the British people 'It is going to be a walk-over for our
+enemy in the field. Mr. Kruger holds us in the hollow of his hand.
+In subjection to him we shall find our long-lost freedom and
+independence'--what would have been Britannia's answer? What, on
+reflection, is yours to Mr. Oover? What are Mr. Oover's own second
+thoughts?" The Duke paused, with a smile to his guest.
+
+"Go right ahead, Duke," said Mr. Oover. "I'll re-ply when my turn
+comes."
+
+"And not utterly demolish me, I hope," said the Duke. His was the Oxford
+manner. "Gentlemen," he continued, "is it possible that Britannia would
+have thrown her helmet in the air, shrieking 'Slavery for ever'? You,
+gentlemen, seem to think slavery a pleasant and an honourable state. You
+have less experience of it than I. I have been enslaved to Miss Dobson
+since yesterday evening; you, only since this afternoon; I, at close
+quarters; you, at a respectful distance. Your fetters have not galled
+you yet. MY wrists, MY ankles, are excoriated. The iron has entered into
+my soul. I droop. I stumble. Blood flows from me. I quiver and curse. I
+writhe. The sun mocks me. The moon titters in my face. I can stand it no
+longer. I will no more of it. Tomorrow I die."
+
+The flushed faces of the diners grew gradually pale. Their eyes lost
+lustre. Their tongues clove to the roofs of their mouths.
+
+At length, almost inaudibly, The MacQuern asked "Do you mean you are
+going to commit suicide?"
+
+"Yes," said the Duke, "if you choose to put it in that way. Yes. And it
+is only by a chance that I did not commit suicide this afternoon."
+
+"You--don't--say," gasped Mr. Oover.
+
+"I do indeed," said the Duke. "And I ask you all to weigh well my
+message."
+
+"But--but does Miss Dobson know?" asked Sir John.
+
+"Oh yes," was the reply. "Indeed, it was she who persuaded me not to die
+till to-morrow."
+
+"But--but," faltered Lord Sayes, "I saw her saying good-bye to you in
+Judas Street. And--and she looked quite--as if nothing had happened."
+
+"Nothing HAD happened," said the Duke. "And she was very much pleased
+to have me still with her. But she isn't so cruel as to hinder me from
+dying for her to-morrow. I don't think she exactly fixed the hour. It
+shall be just after the Eights have been rowed. An earlier death would
+mark in me a lack of courtesy to that contest... It seems strange to
+you that I should do this thing? Take warning by me. Muster all your
+will-power, and forget Miss Dobson. Tear up your tickets for the
+concert. Stay here and play cards. Play high. Or rather, go back to your
+various Colleges, and speed the news I have told you. Put all Oxford on
+its guard against this woman who can love no lover. Let all Oxford
+know that I, Dorset, who had so much reason to love life--I, the
+nonpareil--am going to die for the love I bear this woman. And let no
+man think I go unwilling. I am no lamb led to the slaughter. I am priest
+as well as victim. I offer myself up with a pious joy. But enough
+of this cold Hebraism! It is ill-attuned to my soul's mood.
+Self-sacrifice--bah! Regard me as a voluptuary. I am that. All my
+baffled ardour speeds me to the bosom of Death. She is gentle and
+wanton. She knows I could never have loved her for her own sake. She
+has no illusions about me. She knows well I come to her because not
+otherwise may I quench my passion."
+
+There was a long silence. The Duke, looking around at the bent heads and
+drawn mouths of his auditors, saw that his words had gone home. It was
+Marraby who revealed how powerfully home they had gone.
+
+"Dorset," he said huskily, "I shall die too."
+
+The Duke flung up his hands, staring wildly.
+
+"I stand in with that," said Mr. Oover.
+
+"So do I!" said Lord Sayes. "And I!" said Mr. Trent-Garby; "And I!" The
+MacQuern.
+
+The Duke found voice. "Are you mad?" he asked, clutching at his throat.
+"Are you all mad?"
+
+"No, Duke," said Mr. Oover. "Or, if we are, you have no right to be at
+large. You have shown us the way. We--take it."
+
+"Just so," said The MacQuern, stolidly.
+
+"Listen, you fools," cried the Duke. But through the open window came
+the vibrant stroke of some clock. He wheeled round, plucked out his
+watch--nine!--the concert!--his promise not to be late!--Zuleika!
+
+All other thoughts vanished. In an instant he dodged beneath the sash
+of the window. From the flower-box he sprang to the road beneath. (The
+facade of the house is called, to this day, Dorset's Leap.) Alighting
+with the legerity of a cat, he swerved leftward in the recoil, and was
+off, like a streak of mulberry-coloured lightning, down the High.
+
+The other men had rushed to the window, fearing the worst. "No," cried
+Oover. "That's all right. Saves time!" and he raised himself on to the
+window-box. It splintered under his weight. He leapt heavily but well,
+followed by some uprooted geraniums. Squaring his shoulders, he threw
+back his head, and doubled down the slope.
+
+There was a violent jostle between the remaining men. The MacQuern
+cannily got out of it, and rushed downstairs. He emerged at the
+front-door just after Marraby touched ground. The Baronet's left ankle
+had twisted under him. His face was drawn with pain as he hopped down
+the High on his right foot, fingering his ticket for the concert. Next
+leapt Lord Sayes. And last of all leapt Mr. Trent-Garby, who, catching
+his foot in the ruined flower-box, fell headlong, and was, I regret to
+say, killed. Lord Sayes passed Sir John in a few paces. The MacQuern
+overtook Mr. Oover at St. Mary's and outstripped him in Radcliffe
+Square. The Duke came in an easy first.
+
+Youth, youth!
+
+
+
+
+IX
+
+Across the Front Quadrangle, heedless of the great crowd to right and
+left, Dorset rushed. Up the stone steps to the Hall he bounded, and
+only on the Hall's threshold was he brought to a pause. The doorway
+was blocked by the backs of youths who had by hook and crook secured
+standing-room. The whole scene was surprisingly unlike that of the
+average College concert.
+
+"Let me pass," said the Duke, rather breathlessly. "Thank you. Make way
+please. Thanks." And with quick-pulsing heart he made his way down the
+aisle to the front row. There awaited him a surprise that was like a
+douche of cold water full in his face. Zuleika was not there! It had
+never occurred to him that she herself might not be punctual.
+
+The Warden was there, reading his programme with an air of great
+solemnity. "Where," asked the Duke, "is your grand-daughter?" His tone
+was as of a man saying "If she is dead, don't break it gently to me."
+
+"My grand-daughter?" said the Warden. "Ah, Duke, good evening."
+
+"She's not ill?"
+
+"Oh no, I think not. She said something about changing the dress she
+wore at dinner. She will come." And the Warden thanked his young friend
+for the great kindness he had shown to Zuleika. He hoped the Duke had
+not let her worry him with her artless prattle. "She seems to be a good,
+amiable girl," he added, in his detached way.
+
+Sitting beside him, the Duke looked curiously at the venerable profile,
+as at a mummy's. To think that this had once been a man! To think that
+his blood flowed in the veins of Zuleika! Hitherto the Duke had seen
+nothing grotesque in him--had regarded him always as a dignified
+specimen of priest and scholar. Such a life as the Warden's, year
+following year in ornamental seclusion from the follies and fusses of
+the world, had to the Duke seemed rather admirable and enviable. Often
+he himself had (for a minute or so) meditated taking a fellowship at All
+Souls and spending here in Oxford the greater part of his life. He had
+never been young, and it never had occurred to him that the Warden had
+been young once. To-night he saw the old man in a new light--saw that
+he was mad. Here was a man who--for had he not married and begotten a
+child?--must have known, in some degree, the emotion of love. How, after
+that, could he have gone on thus, year by year, rusting among his
+books, asking no favour of life, waiting for death without a sign of
+impatience? Why had he not killed himself long ago? Why cumbered he the
+earth?
+
+On the dais an undergraduate was singing a song entitled "She Loves Not
+Me." Such plaints are apt to leave us unharrowed. Across the footlights
+of an opera-house, the despair of some Italian tenor in red tights and
+a yellow wig may be convincing enough. Not so, at a concert, the despair
+of a shy British amateur in evening dress. The undergraduate on the
+dais, fumbling with his sheet of music while he predicted that only when
+he were "laid within the church-yard cold and grey" would his lady
+begin to pity him, seemed to the Duke rather ridiculous; but not half so
+ridiculous as the Warden. This fictitious love-affair was less nugatory
+than the actual humdrum for which Dr. Dobson had sold his soul to the
+devil. Also, little as one might suspect it, the warbler was perhaps
+expressing a genuine sentiment. Zuleika herself, belike, was in his
+thoughts.
+
+As he began the second stanza, predicting that when his lady died too
+the angels of heaven would bear her straight to him, the audience heard
+a loud murmur, or subdued roar, outside the Hall. And after a few bars
+the warbler suddenly ceased, staring straight in front of him as though
+he saw a vision. Automatically, all heads veered in the direction of his
+gaze. From the entrance, slowly along the aisle, came Zuleika, brilliant
+in black.
+
+To the Duke, who had rapturously risen, she nodded and smiled as
+she swerved down on the chair beside him. She looked to him somehow
+different. He had quite forgiven her for being late: her mere presence
+was a perfect excuse. And the very change in her, though he could not
+define it, was somehow pleasing to him. He was about to question
+her, but she shook her head and held up to her lips a black-gloved
+forefinger, enjoining silence for the singer, who, with dogged British
+pluck, had harked back to the beginning of the second stanza. When his
+task was done and he shuffled down from the dais, he received a great
+ovation. Zuleika, in the way peculiar to persons who are in the habit of
+appearing before the public, held her hands well above the level of
+her brow, and clapped them with a vigour demonstrative not less of her
+presence than of her delight.
+
+"And now," she asked, turning to the Duke, "do you see? do you see?"
+
+"Something, yes. But what?"
+
+"Isn't it plain?" Lightly she touched the lobe of her left ear. "Aren't
+you flattered?"
+
+He knew now what made the difference. It was that her little face was
+flanked by two black pearls.
+
+"Think," said she, "how deeply I must have been brooding over you since
+we parted!"
+
+"Is this really," he asked, pointing to the left ear-ring, "the pearl
+you wore to-day?"
+
+"Yes. Isn't it strange? A man ought to be pleased when a woman goes
+quite unconsciously into mourning for him--goes just because she really
+does mourn him."
+
+"I am more than pleased. I am touched. When did the change come?"
+
+"I don't know. I only noticed it after dinner, when I saw myself in the
+mirror. All through dinner I had been thinking of you and of--well, of
+to-morrow. And this dear sensitive pink pearl had again expressed my
+soul. And there was I, in a yellow gown with green embroideries, gay
+as a jacamar, jarring hideously on myself. I covered my eyes and rushed
+upstairs, rang the bell and tore my things off. My maid was very cross."
+
+Cross! The Duke was shot through with envy of one who was in a position
+to be unkind to Zuleika. "Happy maid!" he murmured. Zuleika replied that
+he was stealing her thunder: hadn't she envied the girl at his lodgings?
+"But I," she said, "wanted only to serve you in meekness. The idea of
+ever being pert to you didn't enter into my head. You show a side of
+your character as unpleasing as it was unforeseen."
+
+"Perhaps then," said the Duke, "it is as well that I am going to die."
+She acknowledged his rebuke with a pretty gesture of penitence. "You
+may have been faultless in love," he added; "but you would not have laid
+down your life for me."
+
+"Oh," she answered, "wouldn't I though? You don't know me. That is just
+the sort of thing I should have loved to do. I am much more romantic
+than you are, really. I wonder," she said, glancing at his breast, "if
+YOUR pink pearl would have turned black? And I wonder if YOU would have
+taken the trouble to change that extraordinary coat you are wearing?"
+
+In sooth, no costume could have been more beautifully Cimmerian than
+Zuleika's. And yet, thought the Duke, watching her as the concert
+proceeded, the effect of her was not lugubrious. Her darkness shone.
+The black satin gown she wore was a stream of shifting high-lights.
+Big black diamonds were around her throat and wrists, and tiny black
+diamonds starred the fan she wielded. In her hair gleamed a great
+raven's wing. And brighter, brighter than all these were her eyes.
+Assuredly no, there was nothing morbid about her. Would one even
+(wondered the Duke, for a disloyal instant) go so far as to say she was
+heartless? Ah no, she was merely strong. She was one who could tread the
+tragic plane without stumbling, and be resilient in the valley of the
+shadow. What she had just said was no more than the truth: she would
+have loved to die for him, had he not forfeited her heart. She would
+have asked no tears. That she had none to shed for him now, that she did
+but share his exhilaration, was the measure of her worthiness to have
+the homage of his self-slaughter.
+
+"By the way," she whispered, "I want to ask one little favour of you.
+Will you, please, at the last moment to-morrow, call out my name in a
+loud voice, so that every one around can hear?"
+
+"Of course I will."
+
+"So that no one shall ever be able to say it wasn't for me that you
+died, you know."
+
+"May I use simply your Christian name?"
+
+"Yes, I really don't see why you shouldn't--at such a moment."
+
+"Thank you." His face glowed.
+
+Thus did they commune, these two, radiant without and within. And behind
+them, throughout the Hall, the undergraduates craned their necks for
+a glimpse. The Duke's piano solo, which was the last item in the first
+half of the programme, was eagerly awaited. Already, whispered first
+from the lips of Oover and the others who had come on from the Junta,
+the news of his resolve had gone from ear to ear among the men. He, for
+his part, had forgotten the scene at the Junta, the baleful effect of
+his example. For him the Hall was a cave of solitude--no one there but
+Zuleika and himself. Yet almost, like the late Mr. John Bright, he heard
+in the air the beating of the wings of the Angel of Death. Not awful
+wings; little wings that sprouted from the shoulders of a rosy and
+blindfold child. Love and Death--for him they were exquisitely one. And
+it seemed to him, when his turn came to play, that he floated, rather
+than walked, to the dais.
+
+He had not considered what he would play tonight. Nor, maybe, was he
+conscious now of choosing. His fingers caressed the keyboard vaguely;
+and anon this ivory had voice and language; and for its master, and for
+some of his hearers, arose a vision. And it was as though in delicate
+procession, very slowly, listless with weeping, certain figures passed
+by, hooded, and drooping forasmuch as by the loss of him whom they were
+following to his grave their own hold on life had been loosened. He
+had been so beautiful and young. Lo, he was but a burden to be carried
+hence, dust to be hidden out of sight. Very slowly, very wretchedly they
+went by. But, as they went, another feeling, faint at first, an all but
+imperceptible current, seemed to flow through the procession; and now
+one, now another of the mourners would look wanly up, with cast-back
+hood, as though listening; and anon all were listening on their way,
+first in wonder, then in rapture; for the soul of their friend was
+singing to them: they heard his voice, but clearer and more blithe than
+they had ever known it--a voice etherealised by a triumph of joy that
+was not yet for them to share. But presently the voice receded, its
+echoes dying away into the sphere whence it came. It ceased; and the
+mourners were left alone again with their sorrow, and passed on all
+unsolaced, and drooping, weeping.
+
+Soon after the Duke had begun to play, an invisible figure came and
+stood by and listened; a frail man, dressed in the fashion of 1840; the
+shade of none other than Frederic Chopin. Behind whom, a moment later,
+came a woman of somewhat masculine aspect and dominant demeanour,
+mounting guard over him, and, as it were, ready to catch him if he fell.
+He bowed his head lower and lower, he looked up with an ecstasy more
+and more intense, according to the procedure of his Marche Funebre. And
+among the audience, too, there was a bowing and uplifting of heads, just
+as among the figures of the mourners evoked. Yet the head of the player
+himself was all the while erect, and his face glad and serene. Nobly
+sensitive as was his playing of the mournful passages, he smiled
+brilliantly through them.
+
+And Zuleika returned his gaze with a smile not less gay. She was not
+sure what he was playing. But she assumed that it was for her, and that
+the music had some reference to his impending death. She was one of the
+people who say "I don't know anything about music really, but I know
+what I like." And she liked this; and she beat time to it with her fan.
+She thought her Duke looked very handsome. She was proud of him. Strange
+that this time yesterday she had been wildly in love with him! Strange,
+too, that this time to-morrow he would be dead! She was immensely glad
+she had saved him this afternoon. To-morrow! There came back to her what
+he had told her about the omen at Tankerton, that stately home: "On the
+eve of the death of a Duke of Dorset, two black owls come always and
+perch on the battlements. They remain there through the night, hooting.
+At dawn they fly away, none knows whither." Perhaps, thought she, at
+this very moment these two birds were on the battlements.
+
+The music ceased. In the hush that followed it, her applause rang sharp
+and notable. Not so Chopin's. Of him and his intense excitement none but
+his companion was aware. "Plus fin que Pachmann!" he reiterated, waving
+his arms wildly, and dancing.
+
+"Tu auras une migraine affreuse. Rentrons, petit coeur!" said George
+Sand, gently but firmly.
+
+"Laisse-moi le saluer," cried the composer, struggling in her grasp.
+
+"Demain soir, oui. Il sera parmi nous," said the novelist, as she
+hurried him away. "Moi aussi," she added to herself, "je me promets un
+beau plaisir en faisant la connaissance de ce jeune homme."
+
+Zuleika was the first to rise as "ce jeune homme" came down from the
+dais. Now was the interval between the two parts of the programme.
+There was a general creaking and scraping of pushed-back chairs as the
+audience rose and went forth into the night. The noise aroused from
+sleep the good Warden, who, having peered at his programme, complimented
+the Duke with old-world courtesy and went to sleep again. Zuleika,
+thrusting her fan under one arm, shook the player by both hands. Also,
+she told him that she knew nothing about music really, but that she
+knew what she liked. As she passed with him up the aisle, she said this
+again. People who say it are never tired of saying it.
+
+Outside, the crowd was greater than ever. All the undergraduates from
+all the Colleges seemed now to be concentrated in the great Front
+Quadrangle of Judas. Even in the glow of the Japanese lanterns that hung
+around in honour of the concert, the faces of the lads looked a little
+pale. For it was known by all now that the Duke was to die. Even while
+the concert was in progress, the news had spread out from the Hall,
+through the thronged doorway, down the thronged steps, to the confines
+of the crowd. Nor had Oover and the other men from the Junta made any
+secret of their own determination. And now, as the rest saw Zuleika
+yet again at close quarters, and verified their remembrance of her, the
+half-formed desire in them to die too was hardened to a vow.
+
+You cannot make a man by standing a sheep on its hind-legs. But by
+standing a flock of sheep in that position you can make a crowd of men.
+If man were not a gregarious animal, the world might have achieved, by
+this time, some real progress towards civilisation. Segregate him, and
+he is no fool. But let him loose among his fellows, and he is lost--he
+becomes just an unit in unreason. If any one of the undergraduates had
+met Miss Dobson in the desert of Sahara, he would have fallen in love
+with her; but not one in a thousand of them would have wished to die
+because she did not love him. The Duke's was a peculiar case. For him to
+fall in love was itself a violent peripety, bound to produce a violent
+upheaval; and such was his pride that for his love to be unrequited
+would naturally enamour him of death. These other, these quite ordinary,
+young men were the victims less of Zuleika than of the Duke's example,
+and of one another. A crowd, proportionately to its size, magnifies all
+that in its units pertains to the emotions, and diminishes all that in
+them pertains to thought. It was because these undergraduates were a
+crowd that their passion for Zuleika was so intense; and it was because
+they were a crowd that they followed so blindly the lead given to them.
+To die for Miss Dobson was "the thing to do." The Duke was going to do
+it. The Junta was going to do it. It is a hateful fact, but we must face
+the fact, that snobbishness was one of the springs to the tragedy here
+chronicled.
+
+We may set to this crowd's credit that it refrained now from following
+Zuleika. Not one of the ladies present was deserted by her escort. All
+the men recognised the Duke's right to be alone with Zuleika now. We may
+set also to their credit that they carefully guarded the ladies from all
+knowledge of what was afoot.
+
+Side by side, the great lover and his beloved wandered away, beyond the
+light of the Japanese lanterns, and came to Salt Cellar.
+
+The moon, like a gardenia in the night's button-hole--but no! why should
+a writer never be able to mention the moon without likening her to
+something else--usually something to which she bears not the faintest
+resemblance?... The moon, looking like nothing whatsoever but herself,
+was engaged in her old and futile endeavour to mark the hours correctly
+on the sun-dial at the centre of the lawn. Never, except once, late one
+night in the eighteenth century, when the toper who was Sub-Warden had
+spent an hour in trying to set his watch here, had she received the
+slightest encouragement. Still she wanly persisted. And this was the
+more absurd in her because Salt Cellar offered very good scope for those
+legitimate effects of hers which we one and all admire. Was it nothing
+to her to have cut those black shadows across the cloisters? Was
+it nothing to her that she so magically mingled her rays with the
+candle-light shed forth from Zuleika's bedroom? Nothing, that she
+had cleansed the lawn of all its colour, and made of it a platform of
+silver-grey, fit for fairies to dance on?
+
+If Zuleika, as she paced the gravel path, had seen how transfigured--how
+nobly like the Tragic Muse--she was just now, she could not have gone on
+bothering the Duke for a keepsake of the tragedy that was to be.
+
+She was still set on having his two studs. He was still firm in his
+refusal to misappropriate those heirlooms. In vain she pointed out to
+him that the pearls he meant, the white ones, no longer existed; that
+the pearls he was wearing were no more "entailed" than if he had got
+them yesterday. "And you actually DID get them yesterday," she said.
+"And from me. And I want them back."
+
+"You are ingenious," he admitted. "I, in my simple way, am but head of
+the Tanville-Tankerton family. Had you accepted my offer of marriage,
+you would have had the right to wear these two pearls during your
+life-time. I am very happy to die for you. But tamper with the property
+of my successor I cannot and will not. I am sorry," he added.
+
+"Sorry!" echoed Zuleika. "Yes, and you were 'sorry' you couldn't dine
+with me to-night. But any little niggling scruple is more to you than I
+am. What old maids men are!" And viciously with her fan she struck one
+of the cloister pillars.
+
+Her outburst was lost on the Duke. At her taunt about his not dining
+with her, he had stood still, clapping one hand to his brow. The events
+of the early evening swept back to him--his speech, its unforeseen and
+horrible reception. He saw again the preternaturally solemn face of
+Oover, and the flushed faces of the rest. He had thought, as he pointed
+down to the abyss over which he stood, these fellows would recoil,
+and pull themselves together. They had recoiled, and pulled themselves
+together, only in the manner of athletes about to spring. He was
+responsible for them. His own life was his to lose: others he must
+not squander. Besides, he had reckoned to die alone, unique; aloft and
+apart... "There is something--something I had forgotten," he said to
+Zuleika, "something that will be a great shock to you"; and he gave her
+an outline of what had passed at the Junta.
+
+"And you are sure they really MEANT it?" she asked in a voice that
+trembled.
+
+"I fear so. But they were over-excited. They will recant their folly. I
+shall force them to."
+
+"They are not children. You yourself have just been calling them 'men.'
+Why should they obey you?"
+
+She turned at sound of a footstep, and saw a young man approaching. He
+wore a coat like the Duke's, and in his hand he dangled a handkerchief.
+He bowed awkwardly, and, holding out the handkerchief, said to her "I
+beg your pardon, but I think you dropped this. I have just picked it
+up."
+
+Zuleika looked at the handkerchief, which was obviously a man's, and
+smilingly shook her head.
+
+"I don't think you know The MacQuern," said the Duke, with sulky grace.
+"This," he said to the intruder, "is Miss Dobson."
+
+"And is it really true," asked Zuleika, retaining The MacQuern's hand,
+"that you want to die for me?"
+
+Well, the Scots are a self-seeking and a resolute, but a shy, race;
+swift to act, when swiftness is needed, but seldom knowing quite what to
+say. The MacQuern, with native reluctance to give something for nothing,
+had determined to have the pleasure of knowing the young lady for whom
+he was to lay down his life; and this purpose he had, by the simple
+stratagem of his own handkerchief, achieved. Nevertheless, in answer to
+Zuleika's question, and with the pressure of her hand to inspire him,
+the only word that rose to his lips was "Ay" (which may be roughly
+translated as "Yes").
+
+"You will do nothing of the sort," interposed the Duke.
+
+"There," said Zuleika, still retaining The MacQuern's hand, "you see, it
+is forbidden. You must not defy our dear little Duke. He is not used to
+it. It is not done."
+
+"I don't know," said The MacQuern, with a stony glance at the Duke,
+"that he has anything to do with the matter."
+
+"He is older and wiser than you. More a man of the world. Regard him as
+your tutor."
+
+"Do YOU want me not to die for you?" asked the young man.
+
+"Ah, _I_ should not dare to impose my wishes on you," said she, dropping
+his hand. "Even," she added, "if I knew what my wishes were. And I
+don't. I know only that I think it is very, very beautiful of you to
+think of dying for me."
+
+"Then that settles it," said The MacQuern.
+
+"No, no! You must not let yourself be influenced by ME. Besides, I am
+not in a mood to influence anybody. I am overwhelmed. Tell me," she
+said, heedless of the Duke, who stood tapping his heel on the ground,
+with every manifestation of disapproval and impatience, "tell me, is it
+true that some of the other men love me too, and--feel as you do?"
+
+The MacQuern said cautiously that he could answer for no one but
+himself. "But," he allowed, "I saw a good many men whom I know, outside
+the Hall here, just now, and they seemed to have made up their minds."
+
+"To die for me? To-morrow?"
+
+"To-morrow. After the Eights, I suppose; at the same time as the Duke.
+It wouldn't do to leave the races undecided."
+
+"Of COURSE not. But the poor dears! It is too touching! I have done
+nothing, nothing to deserve it."
+
+"Nothing whatsoever," said the Duke drily.
+
+"Oh HE," said Zuleika, "thinks me an unredeemed brute; just because I
+don't love him. YOU, dear Mr. MacQuern--does one call you 'Mr.'? 'The'
+would sound so odd in the vocative. And I can't very well call you
+'MacQuern'--YOU don't think me unkind, do you? I simply can't bear to
+think of all these young lives cut short without my having done a thing
+to brighten them. What can I do?--what can I do to show my gratitude?"
+
+An idea struck her. She looked up to the lit window of her room.
+"Melisande!" she called.
+
+A figure appeared at the window. "Mademoiselle desire?"
+
+"My tricks, Melisande! Bring down the box, quick!" She turned excitedly
+to the two young men. "It is all I can do in return, you see. If I could
+dance for them, I would. If I could sing, I would sing to them. I do
+what I can. You," she said to the Duke, "must go on to the platform and
+announce it."
+
+"Announce what?"
+
+"Why, that I am going to do my tricks! All you need say is 'Ladies and
+gentlemen, I have the pleasure to--' What is the matter now?"
+
+"You make me feel slightly unwell," said the Duke.
+
+"And YOU are the most d-dis-disobliging and the unkindest and the
+b-beastliest person I ever met," Zuleika sobbed at him through her
+hands. The MacQuern glared reproaches at him. So did Melisande, who had
+just appeared through the postern, holding in her arms the great casket
+of malachite. A painful scene; and the Duke gave in. He said he would do
+anything--anything. Peace was restored.
+
+The MacQuern had relieved Melisande of her burden; and to him was the
+privilege of bearing it, in procession with his adored and her quelled
+mentor, towards the Hall.
+
+Zuleika babbled like a child going to a juvenile party. This was the
+great night, as yet, in her life. Illustrious enough already it had
+seemed to her, as eve of that ultimate flattery vowed her by the Duke.
+So fine a thing had his doom seemed to her--his doom alone--that it had
+sufficed to flood her pink pearl with the right hue. And now not on him
+alone need she ponder. Now he was but the centre of a group--a group
+that might grow and grow--a group that might with a little encouragement
+be a multitude... With such hopes dimly whirling in the recesses of her
+soul, her beautiful red lips babbled.
+
+
+
+
+X
+
+Sounds of a violin, drifting out through the open windows of the
+Hall, suggested that the second part of the concert had begun. All the
+undergraduates, however, except the few who figured in the programme,
+had waited outside till their mistress should re-appear. The sisters
+and cousins of the Judas men had been escorted back to their places and
+hurriedly left there.
+
+It was a hushed, tense crowd.
+
+"The poor darlings!" murmured Zuleika, pausing to survey them. "And oh,"
+she exclaimed, "there won't be room for all of them in there!"
+
+"You might give an 'overflow' performance out here afterwards,"
+suggested the Duke, grimly.
+
+This idea flashed on her a better. Why not give her performance here and
+now?--now, so eager was she for contact, as it were, with this crowd;
+here, by moonlight, in the pretty glow of these paper lanterns. Yes,
+she said, let it be here and now; and she bade the Duke make the
+announcement.
+
+"What shall I say?" he asked. "'Gentlemen, I have the pleasure to
+announce that Miss Zuleika Dobson, the world-renowned She-Wizard, will
+now oblige'? Or shall I call them 'Gents,' tout court?"
+
+She could afford to laugh at his ill-humour. She had his promise of
+obedience. She told him to say something graceful and simple.
+
+The noise of the violin had ceased. There was not a breath of wind. The
+crowd in the quadrangle was as still and as silent as the night itself.
+Nowhere a tremour. And it was borne in on Zuleika that this crowd had
+one mind as well as one heart--a common resolve, calm and clear, as well
+as a common passion. No need for her to strengthen the spell now. No
+waverers here. And thus it came true that gratitude was the sole motive
+for her display.
+
+She stood with eyes downcast and hands folded behind her, moonlit in
+the glow of lanterns, modest to the point of pathos, while the Duke
+gracefully and simply introduced her to the multitude. He was, he said,
+empowered by the lady who stood beside him to say that she would be
+pleased to give them an exhibition of her skill in the art to which
+she had devoted her life--an art which, more potently perhaps than any
+other, touched in mankind the sense of mystery and stirred the faculty
+of wonder; the most truly romantic of all the arts: he referred to the
+art of conjuring. It was not too much to say that by her mastery of this
+art, in which hitherto, it must be confessed, women had made no very
+great mark, Miss Zuleika Dobson (for such was the name of the lady who
+stood beside him) had earned the esteem of the whole civilised world.
+And here in Oxford, and in this College especially, she had a peculiar
+claim to--might he say?--their affectionate regard, inasmuch as she was
+the grand-daughter of their venerable and venerated Warden.
+
+As the Duke ceased, there came from his hearers a sound like the
+rustling of leaves. In return for it, Zuleika performed that graceful
+act of subsidence to the verge of collapse which is usually kept for the
+delectation of some royal person. And indeed, in the presence of this
+doomed congress, she did experience humility; for she was not altogether
+without imagination. But, as she arose from her "bob," she was her own
+bold self again, bright mistress of the situation.
+
+It was impossible for her to give her entertainment in full. Some of her
+tricks (notably the Secret Aquarium, and the Blazing Ball of Worsted)
+needed special preparation, and a table fitted with a "servante" or
+secret tray. The table for to-night's performance was an ordinary one,
+brought out from the porter's lodge. The MacQuern deposited on it the
+great casket. Zuleika, retaining him as her assistant, picked nimbly
+out from their places and put in array the curious appurtenances of her
+art--the Magic Canister, the Demon Egg-Cup, and the sundry other vessels
+which, lost property of young Edward Gibbs, had been by a Romanoff
+transmuted from wood to gold, and were now by the moon reduced
+temporarily to silver.
+
+In a great dense semicircle the young men disposed themselves around
+her. Those who were in front squatted down on the gravel; those who were
+behind knelt; the rest stood. Young Oxford! Here, in this mass of boyish
+faces, all fused and obliterated, was the realisation of that phrase.
+Two or three thousands of human bodies, human souls? Yet the effect of
+them in the moonlight was as of one great passive monster.
+
+So was it seen by the Duke, as he stood leaning against the wall,
+behind Zuleika's table. He saw it as a monster couchant and enchanted,
+a monster that was to die; and its death was in part his own doing.
+But remorse in him gave place to hostility. Zuleika had begun her
+performance. She was producing the Barber's Pole from her mouth. And
+it was to her that the Duke's heart went suddenly out in tenderness
+and pity. He forgot her levity and vanity--her wickedness, as he had
+inwardly called it. He thrilled with that intense anxiety which comes to
+a man when he sees his beloved offering to the public an exhibition of
+her skill, be it in singing, acting, dancing, or any other art. Would
+she acquit herself well? The lover's trepidation is painful enough when
+the beloved has genius--how should these clods appreciate her? and who
+set them in judgment over her? It must be worse when the beloved has
+mediocrity. And Zuleika, in conjuring, had rather less than that. Though
+indeed she took herself quite seriously as a conjurer, she brought to
+her art neither conscience nor ambition, in any true sense of those
+words. Since her debut, she had learned nothing and forgotten nothing.
+The stale and narrow repertory which she had acquired from Edward Gibbs
+was all she had to offer; and this, and her marked lack of skill, she
+eked out with the self-same "patter" that had sufficed that impossible
+young man. It was especially her jokes that now sent shudders up the
+spine of her lover, and brought tears to his eyes, and kept him in
+a state of terror as to what she would say next. "You see," she had
+exclaimed lightly after the production of the Barber's Pole, "how easy
+it is to set up business as a hairdresser." Over the Demon Egg-Cup she
+said that the egg was "as good as fresh." And her constantly reiterated
+catch-phrase--"Well, this is rather queer!"--was the most distressing
+thing of all.
+
+The Duke blushed to think what these men thought of her. Would love
+were blind! These her lovers were doubtless judging her. They forgave
+her--confound their impudence!--because of her beauty. The banality of
+her performance was an added grace. It made her piteous. Damn them, they
+were sorry for her. Little Noaks was squatting in the front row, peering
+up at her through his spectacles. Noaks was as sorry for her as the rest
+of them. Why didn't the earth yawn and swallow them all up?
+
+Our hero's unreasoning rage was fed by a not unreasonable jealousy. It
+was clear to him that Zuleika had forgotten his existence. To-day, as
+soon as he had killed her love, she had shown him how much less to her
+was his love than the crowd's. And now again it was only the crowd she
+cared for. He followed with his eyes her long slender figure as she
+threaded her way in and out of the crowd, sinuously, confidingly,
+producing a penny from one lad's elbow, a threepenny-bit from between
+another's neck and collar, half a crown from another's hair, and always
+repeating in that flute-like voice of hers "Well, this is rather queer!"
+Hither and thither she fared, her neck and arms gleaming white from the
+luminous blackness of her dress, in the luminous blueness of the night.
+At a distance, she might have been a wraith; or a breeze made visible; a
+vagrom breeze, warm and delicate, and in league with death.
+
+Yes, that is how she might have seemed to a casual observer. But to the
+Duke there was nothing weird about her: she was radiantly a woman; a
+goddess; and his first and last love. Bitter his heart was, but only
+against the mob she wooed, not against her for wooing it. She was cruel?
+All goddesses are that. She was demeaning herself? His soul welled up
+anew in pity, in passion.
+
+Yonder, in the Hall, the concert ran its course, making a feeble
+incidental music to the dark emotions of the quadrangle. It ended
+somewhat before the close of Zuleika's rival show; and then the steps
+from the Hall were thronged by ladies, who, with a sprinkling of dons,
+stood in attitudes of refined displeasure and vulgar curiosity. The
+Warden was just awake enough to notice the sea of undergraduates.
+Suspecting some breach of College discipline, he retired hastily to his
+own quarters, for fear his dignity might be somehow compromised.
+
+Was there ever, I wonder, an historian so pure as not to have wished
+just once to fob off on his readers just one bright fable for effect?
+I find myself sorely tempted to tell you that on Zuleika, as her
+entertainment drew to a close, the spirit of the higher thaumaturgy
+descended like a flame and found in her a worthy agent. Specious
+Apollyon whispers to me "Where would be the harm? Tell your readers
+that she cast a seed on the ground, and that therefrom presently arose
+a tamarind-tree which blossomed and bore fruit and, withering, vanished.
+Or say she conjured from an empty basket of osier a hissing and bridling
+snake. Why not? Your readers would be excited, gratified. And you would
+never be found out." But the grave eyes of Clio are bent on me, her
+servant. Oh pardon, madam: I did but waver for an instant. It is not too
+late to tell my readers that the climax of Zuleika's entertainment was
+only that dismal affair, the Magic Canister.
+
+It she took from the table, and, holding it aloft, cried "Now, before I
+say good night, I want to see if I have your confidence. But you mustn't
+think this is the confidence trick!" She handed the vessel to The
+MacQuern, who, looking like an overgrown acolyte, bore it after her as
+she went again among the audience. Pausing before a man in the front
+row, she asked him if he would trust her with his watch. He held it
+out to her. "Thank you," she said, letting her fingers touch his for a
+moment before she dropped it into the Magic Canister. From another man
+she borrowed a cigarette-case, from another a neck-tie, from another a
+pair of sleeve-links, from Noaks a ring--one of those iron rings which
+are supposed, rightly or wrongly, to alleviate rheumatism. And when she
+had made an ample selection, she began her return-journey to the table.
+
+On her way she saw in the shadow of the wall the figure of her forgotten
+Duke. She saw him, the one man she had ever loved, also the first
+man who had wished definitely to die for her; and she was touched by
+remorse. She had said she would remember him to her dying day; and
+already... But had he not refused her the wherewithal to remember
+him--the pearls she needed as the clou of her dear collection, the great
+relic among relics?
+
+"Would you trust me with your studs?" she asked him, in a voice that
+could be heard throughout the quadrangle, with a smile that was for him
+alone.
+
+There was no help for it. He quickly extricated from his shirt-front the
+black pearl and the pink. Her thanks had a special emphasis.
+
+The MacQuern placed the Magic Canister before her on the table. She
+pressed the outer sheath down on it. Then she inverted it so that the
+contents fell into the false lid; then she opened it, looked into it,
+and, exclaiming "Well, this is rather queer!" held it up so that the
+audience whose intelligence she was insulting might see there was
+nothing in it.
+
+"Accidents," she said, "will happen in the best-regulated canisters!
+But I think there is just a chance that I shall be able to restore your
+property. Excuse me for a moment." She then shut the canister, released
+the false lid, made several passes over it, opened it, looked into it
+and said with a flourish "Now I can clear my character!" Again she went
+among the crowd, attended by The MacQuern; and the loans--priceless now
+because she had touched them--were in due course severally restored.
+When she took the canister from her acolyte, only the two studs remained
+in it.
+
+Not since the night of her flitting from the Gibbs' humble home had
+Zuleika thieved. Was she a back-slider? Would she rob the Duke, and his
+heir-presumptive, and Tanville-Tankertons yet unborn? Alas, yes. But
+what she now did was proof that she had qualms. And her way of doing it
+showed that for legerdemain she had after all a natural aptitude which,
+properly trained, might have won for her an honourable place in at least
+the second rank of contemporary prestidigitators. With a gesture of her
+disengaged hand, so swift as to be scarcely visible, she unhooked her
+ear-rings and "passed" them into the canister. This she did as she
+turned away from the crowd, on her way to the Duke. At the same moment,
+in a manner technically not less good, though morally deplorable, she
+withdrew the studs and "vanished" them into her bosom.
+
+Was it triumph, or shame, or of both a little that so flushed her cheeks
+as she stood before the man she had robbed? Or was it the excitement
+of giving a present to the man she had loved? Certain it is that the
+nakedness of her ears gave a new look to her face--a primitive look,
+open and sweetly wild. The Duke saw the difference, without noticing
+the cause. She was more adorable than ever. He blenched and swayed as in
+proximity to a loveliness beyond endurance. His heart cried out within
+him. A sudden mist came over his eyes.
+
+In the canister that she held out to him, the two pearls rattled like
+dice.
+
+"Keep them!" he whispered.
+
+"I shall," she whispered back, almost shyly. "But these, these are for
+you." And she took one of his hands, and, holding it open, tilted the
+canister over it, and let drop into it the two ear-rings, and went
+quickly away.
+
+As she re-appeared at the table, the crowd gave her a long ovation
+of gratitude for her performance--an ovation all the more impressive
+because it was solemn and subdued. She curtseyed again and again, not
+indeed with the timid simplicity of her first obeisance (so familiar
+already was she with the thought of the crowd's doom), but rather in the
+manner of a prima donna--chin up, eyelids down, all teeth manifest, and
+hands from the bosom flung ecstatically wide asunder.
+
+You know how, at a concert, a prima donna who has just sung insists on
+shaking hands with the accompanist, and dragging him forward, to show
+how beautiful her nature is, into the applause that is for herself
+alone. And your heart, like mine, has gone out to the wretched victim.
+Even so would you have felt for The MacQuern when Zuleika, on the
+implied assumption that half the credit was his, grasped him by the
+wrist, and, continuing to curtsey, would not release him till the last
+echoes of the clapping had died away.
+
+The ladies on the steps of the Hall moved down into the quadrangle,
+spreading their resentment like a miasma. The tragic passion of the
+crowd was merged in mere awkwardness. There was a general movement
+towards the College gate.
+
+Zuleika was putting her tricks back into the great casket, The MacQuern
+assisting her. The Scots, as I have said, are a shy race, but a resolute
+and a self-seeking. This young chieftain had not yet recovered from what
+his heroine had let him in for. But he did not lose the opportunity of
+asking her to lunch with him to-morrow.
+
+"Delighted," she said, fitting the Demon Egg-Cup into its groove.
+Then, looking up at him, "Are you popular?" she asked. "Have you many
+friends?" He nodded. She said he must invite them all.
+
+This was a blow to the young man, who, at once thrifty and infatuate,
+had planned a luncheon a deux. "I had hoped--" he began.
+
+"Vainly," she cut him short.
+
+There was a pause. "Whom shall I invite, then?"
+
+"I don't know any of them. How should I have preferences?" She
+remembered the Duke. She looked round and saw him still standing in the
+shadow of the wall. He came towards her. "Of course," she said hastily
+to her host, "you must ask HIM."
+
+The MacQuern complied. He turned to the Duke and told him that Miss
+Dobson had very kindly promised to lunch with him to-morrow. "And," said
+Zuleika, "I simply WON'T unless you will."
+
+The Duke looked at her. Had it not been arranged that he and she should
+spend his last day together? Did it mean nothing that she had given him
+her ear-rings? Quickly drawing about him some remnants of his tattered
+pride, he hid his wound, and accepted the invitation.
+
+"It seems a shame," said Zuleika to The MacQuern, "to ask you to bring
+this great heavy box all the way back again. But--"
+
+Those last poor rags of pride fell away now. The Duke threw a prehensile
+hand on the casket, and, coldly glaring at The MacQuern, pointed with
+his other hand towards the College gate. He, and he alone, was going to
+see Zuleika home. It was his last night on earth, and he was not to be
+trifled with. Such was the message of his eyes. The Scotsman's flashed
+back a precisely similar message.
+
+Men had fought for Zuleika, but never in her presence. Her eyes dilated.
+She had not the slightest impulse to throw herself between the two
+antagonists. Indeed, she stepped back, so as not to be in the way. A
+short sharp fight--how much better that is than bad blood! She hoped the
+better man would win; and (do not misjudge her) she rather hoped this
+man was the Duke. It occurred to her--a vague memory of some play or
+picture--that she ought to be holding aloft a candelabra of lit tapers;
+no, that was only done indoors, and in the eighteenth century. Ought
+she to hold a sponge? Idle, these speculations of hers, and based on
+complete ignorance of the manners and customs of undergraduates. The
+Duke and The MacQuern would never have come to blows in the presence of
+a lady. Their conflict was necessarily spiritual.
+
+And it was the Scotsman, Scots though he was, who had to yield. Cowed
+by something demoniac in the will-power pitted against his, he found
+himself retreating in the direction indicated by the Duke's forefinger.
+
+As he disappeared into the porch, Zuleika turned to the Duke. "You were
+splendid," she said softly. He knew that very well. Does the stag in his
+hour of victory need a diploma from the hind? Holding in his hands the
+malachite casket that was the symbol of his triumph, the Duke smiled
+dictatorially at his darling. He came near to thinking of her as a
+chattel. Then with a pang he remembered his abject devotion to her.
+Abject no longer though! The victory he had just won restored his
+manhood, his sense of supremacy among his fellows. He loved this woman
+on equal terms. She was transcendent? So was he, Dorset. To-night
+the world had on its moonlit surface two great ornaments--Zuleika and
+himself. Neither of the pair could be replaced. Was one of them to be
+shattered? Life and love were good. He had been mad to think of dying.
+
+No word was spoken as they went together to Salt Cellar. She expected
+him to talk about her conjuring tricks. Could he have been disappointed?
+She dared not inquire; for she had the sensitiveness, though no other
+quality whatsoever, of the true artist. She felt herself aggrieved. She
+had half a mind to ask him to give her back her ear-rings. And by the
+way, he hadn't yet thanked her for them! Well, she would make allowances
+for a condemned man. And again she remembered the omen of which he had
+told her. She looked at him, and then up into the sky. "This same moon,"
+she said to herself, "sees the battlements of Tankerton. Does she see
+two black owls there? Does she hear them hooting?"
+
+They were in Salt Cellar now. "Melisande!" she called up to her window.
+
+"Hush!" said the Duke, "I have something to say to you."
+
+"Well, you can say it all the better without that great box in your
+hands. I want my maid to carry it up to my room for me." And again she
+called out for Melisande, and received no answer. "I suppose she's in
+the house-keeper's room or somewhere. You had better put the box down
+inside the door. She can bring it up later."
+
+She pushed open the postern; and the Duke, as he stepped across the
+threshold, thrilled with a romantic awe. Re-emerging a moment later into
+the moonlight, he felt that she had been right about the box: it was
+fatal to self-expression; and he was glad he had not tried to speak
+on the way from the Front Quad: the soul needs gesture; and the Duke's
+first gesture now was to seize Zuleika's hands in his.
+
+She was too startled to move. "Zuleika!" he whispered. She was too angry
+to speak, but with a sudden twist she freed her wrists and darted back.
+
+He laughed. "You are afraid of me. You are afraid to let me kiss you,
+because you are afraid of loving me. This afternoon--here--I all but
+kissed you. I mistook you for Death. I was enamoured of Death. I was a
+fool. That is what YOU are, you incomparable darling: you are a fool.
+You are afraid of life. I am not. I love life. I am going to live for
+you, do you hear?"
+
+She stood with her back to the postern. Anger in her eyes had given
+place to scorn. "You mean," she said, "that you go back on your
+promise?"
+
+"You will release me from it."
+
+"You mean you are afraid to die?"
+
+"You will not be guilty of my death. You love me."
+
+"Good night, you miserable coward." She stepped back through the
+postern.
+
+"Don't, Zuleika! Miss Dobson, don't! Pull yourself together! Reflect! I
+implore you... You will repent..."
+
+Slowly she closed the postern on him.
+
+"You will repent. I shall wait here, under your window..."
+
+He heard a bolt rasped into its socket. He heard the retreat of a light
+tread on the paven hall.
+
+And he hadn't even kissed her! That was his first thought. He ground his
+heel in the gravel.
+
+And he had hurt her wrists! This was Zuleika's first thought, as she
+came into her bedroom. Yes, there were two red marks where he had
+held her. No man had ever dared to lay hands on her. With a sense of
+contamination, she proceeded to wash her hands thoroughly with soap and
+water. From time to time such words as "cad" and "beast" came through
+her teeth.
+
+She dried her hands and flung herself into a chair, arose and went
+pacing the room. So this was the end of her great night! What had she
+done to deserve it? How had he dared?
+
+There was a sound as of rain against the window. She was glad. The night
+needed cleansing.
+
+He had told her she was afraid of life. Life!--to have herself caressed
+by HIM; humbly to devote herself to being humbly doted on; to be the
+slave of a slave; to swim in a private pond of treacle--ugh! If the
+thought weren't so cloying and degrading, it would be laughable.
+
+For a moment her hands hovered over those two golden and gemmed volumes
+encasing Bradshaw and the A.B.C. Guide. To leave Oxford by an early
+train, leave him to drown unthanked, unlooked at... But this could
+not be done without slighting all those hundreds of other men ... And
+besides...
+
+Again that sound on the window-pane. This time it startled her. There
+seemed to be no rain. Could it have been--little bits of gravel? She
+darted noiselessly to the window, pushed it open, and looked down. She
+saw the upturned face of the Duke. She stepped back, trembling with
+fury, staring around her. Inspiration came.
+
+She thrust her head out again. "Are you there?" she whispered.
+
+"Yes, yes. I knew you would come."
+
+"Wait a moment, wait!"
+
+The water-jug stood where she had left it, on the floor by the
+wash-stand. It was almost full, rather heavy. She bore it steadily to
+the window, and looked out.
+
+"Come a little nearer!" she whispered.
+
+The upturned and moonlit face obeyed her. She saw its lips forming the
+word "Zuleika." She took careful aim.
+
+Full on the face crashed the cascade of moonlit water, shooting out on
+all sides like the petals of some great silver anemone.
+
+She laughed shrilly as she leapt back, letting the empty jug roll over
+on the carpet. Then she stood tense, crouching, her hands to her mouth,
+her eyes askance, as much as to say "Now I've done it!" She listened
+hard, holding her breath. In the stillness of the night was a faint
+sound of dripping water, and presently of footsteps going away. Then
+stillness unbroken.
+
+
+
+
+XI
+
+I said that I was Clio's servant. And I felt, when I said it, that you
+looked at me dubiously, and murmured among yourselves.
+
+Not that you doubted I was somewhat connected with Clio's household. The
+lady after whom I have named this book is alive, and well known to some
+of you personally, to all of you by repute. Nor had you finished my
+first page before you guessed my theme to be that episode in her life
+which caused so great a sensation among the newspaper-reading public a
+few years ago. (It all seems but yesterday, does it not? They are still
+vivid to us, those head-lines. We have hardly yet ceased to be edified
+by the morals pointed in those leading articles.) And yet very soon you
+found me behaving just like any novelist--reporting the exact words
+that passed between the protagonists at private interviews--aye, and the
+exact thoughts and emotions that were in their breasts. Little wonder
+that you wondered! Let me make things clear to you.
+
+I have my mistress' leave to do this. At first (for reasons which you
+will presently understand) she demurred. But I pointed out to her that I
+had been placed in a false position, and that until this were rectified
+neither she nor I could reap the credit due to us.
+
+Know, then, that for a long time Clio had been thoroughly discontented.
+She was happy enough, she says, when first she left the home of Pierus,
+her father, to become a Muse. On those humble beginnings she looks
+back with affection. She kept only one servant, Herodotus. The romantic
+element in him appealed to her. He died, and she had about her a large
+staff of able and faithful servants, whose way of doing their work
+irritated and depressed her. To them, apparently, life consisted of
+nothing but politics and military operations--things to which she, being
+a woman, was somewhat indifferent. She was jealous of Melpomene. It
+seemed to her that her own servants worked from without at a mass of dry
+details which might as well be forgotten. Melpomene's worked on material
+that was eternally interesting--the souls of men and women; and not
+from without, either; but rather casting themselves into those souls
+and showing to us the essence of them. She was particularly struck by a
+remark of Aristotle's, that tragedy was "more philosophic" than history,
+inasmuch as it concerned itself with what might be, while history was
+concerned with merely what had been. This summed up for her what she
+had often felt, but could not have exactly formulated. She saw that the
+department over which she presided was at best an inferior one. She saw
+that just what she had liked--and rightly liked--in poor dear Herodotus
+was just what prevented him from being a good historian. It was wrong to
+mix up facts and fancies. But why should her present servants deal with
+only one little special set of the variegated facts of life? It was not
+in her power to interfere. The Nine, by the terms of the charter
+that Zeus had granted to them, were bound to leave their servants an
+absolutely free hand. But Clio could at least refrain from reading the
+works which, by a legal fiction, she was supposed to inspire. Once or
+twice in the course of a century, she would glance into this or that new
+history book, only to lay it down with a shrug of her shoulders. Some
+of the mediaeval chronicles she rather liked. But when, one day, Pallas
+asked her what she thought of "The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire"
+her only answer was "ostis toia echei en edone echei en edone toia"
+(For people who like that kind of thing, that is the kind of thing they
+like). This she did let slip. Generally, throughout all the centuries,
+she kept up a pretence of thinking history the greatest of all the arts.
+She always held her head high among her Sisters. It was only on the
+sly that she was an omnivorous reader of dramatic and lyric poetry.
+She watched with keen interest the earliest developments of the prose
+romance in southern Europe; and after the publication of "Clarissa
+Harlowe" she spent practically all her time in reading novels. It was
+not until the Spring of the year 1863 that an entirely new element
+forced itself into her peaceful life. Zeus fell in love with her.
+
+To us, for whom so quickly "time doth transfix the flourish set on
+youth," there is something strange, even a trifle ludicrous, in the
+thought that Zeus, after all these years, is still at the beck and call
+of his passions. And it seems anyhow lamentable that he has not yet
+gained self-confidence enough to appear in his own person to the lady
+of his choice, and is still at pains to transform himself into whatever
+object he deems likeliest to please her. To Clio, suddenly from Olympus,
+he flashed down in the semblance of Kinglake's "Invasion of the Crimea"
+(four vols., large 8vo, half-calf). She saw through his disguise
+immediately, and, with great courage and independence, bade him begone.
+Rebuffed, he was not deflected. Indeed it would seem that Clio's high
+spirit did but sharpen his desire. Hardly a day passed but he appeared
+in what he hoped would be the irresistible form--a recently discovered
+fragment of Polybius, an advance copy of the forthcoming issue of "The
+Historical Review," the note-book of Professor Carl Voertschlaffen...
+One day, all-prying Hermes told him of Clio's secret addiction to
+novel-reading. Thenceforth, year in, year out, it was in the form of
+fiction that Zeus wooed her. The sole result was that she grew sick of
+the sight of novels, and found a perverse pleasure in reading history.
+These dry details of what had actually happened were a relief, she told
+herself, from all that make-believe.
+
+One Sunday afternoon--the day before that very Monday on which this
+narrative opens--it occurred to her how fine a thing history might be if
+the historian had the novelist's privileges. Suppose he could be present
+at every scene which he was going to describe, a presence invisible and
+inevitable, and equipped with power to see into the breasts of all the
+persons whose actions he set himself to watch...
+
+While the Muse was thus musing, Zeus (disguised as Miss Annie S. Swan's
+latest work) paid his usual visit. She let her eyes rest on him. Hither
+and thither she divided her swift mind, and addressed him in winged
+words. "Zeus, father of gods and men, cloud-compeller, what wouldst thou
+of me? But first will I say what I would of thee"; and she besought him
+to extend to the writers of history such privileges as are granted to
+novelists. His whole manner had changed. He listened to her with the
+massive gravity of a ruler who never yet has allowed private influence
+to obscure his judgment. He was silent for some time after her appeal.
+Then, in a voice of thunder, which made quake the slopes of Parnassus,
+he gave his answer. He admitted the disabilities under which historians
+laboured. But the novelists--were they not equally handicapped? They had
+to treat of persons who never existed, events which never were. Only
+by the privilege of being in the thick of those events, and in the very
+bowels of those persons, could they hope to hold the reader's attention.
+If similar privileges were granted to the historian, the demand for
+novels would cease forthwith, and many thousand of hard-working,
+deserving men and women would be thrown out of employment. In fact, Clio
+had asked him an impossible favour. But he might--he said he conceivably
+might--be induced to let her have her way just once. In that event, all
+she would have to do was to keep her eye on the world's surface, and
+then, so soon as she had reason to think that somewhere was impending
+something of great import, to choose an historian. On him, straightway,
+Zeus would confer invisibility, inevitability, and psychic penetration,
+with a flawless memory thrown in.
+
+On the following afternoon, Clio's roving eye saw Zuleika stepping from
+the Paddington platform into the Oxford train. A few moments later I
+found myself suddenly on Parnassus. In hurried words Clio told me how I
+came there, and what I had to do. She said she had selected me because
+she knew me to be honest, sober, and capable, and no stranger to Oxford.
+Another moment, and I was at the throne of Zeus. With a majesty of
+gesture which I shall never forget, he stretched his hand over me, and I
+was indued with the promised gifts. And then, lo! I was on the platform
+of Oxford station. The train was not due for another hour. But the time
+passed pleasantly enough.
+
+It was fun to float all unseen, to float all unhampered by any corporeal
+nonsense, up and down the platform. It was fun to watch the inmost
+thoughts of the station-master, of the porters, of the young person at
+the buffet. But of course I did not let the holiday-mood master me. I
+realised the seriousness of my mission. I must concentrate myself on
+the matter in hand: Miss Dobson's visit. What was going to happen?
+Prescience was no part of my outfit. From what I knew about Miss Dobson,
+I deduced that she would be a great success. That was all. Had I had the
+instinct that was given to those Emperors in stone, and even to the
+dog Corker, I should have begged Clio to send in my stead some man of
+stronger nerve. She had charged me to be calmly vigilant, scrupulously
+fair. I could have been neither, had I from the outset foreseen all.
+Only because the immediate future was broken to me by degrees, first as
+a set of possibilities, then as a set of probabilities that yet might
+not come off, was I able to fulfil the trust imposed in me. Even so, it
+was hard. I had always accepted the doctrine that to understand all is
+to forgive all. Thanks to Zeus, I understood all about Miss Dobson, and
+yet there were moments when she repelled me--moments when I wished to
+see her neither from without nor from within. So soon as the Duke of
+Dorset met her on the Monday night, I felt I was in duty bound to keep
+him under constant surveillance. Yet there were moments when I was so
+sorry for him that I deemed myself a brute for shadowing him.
+
+Ever since I can remember, I have been beset by a recurring doubt as
+to whether I be or be not quite a gentleman. I have never attempted to
+define that term: I have but feverishly wondered whether in its usual
+acceptation (whatever that is) it be strictly applicable to myself. Many
+people hold that the qualities connoted by it are primarily moral--a
+kind heart, honourable conduct, and so forth. On Clio's mission, I found
+honour and kindness tugging me in precisely opposite directions. In so
+far as honour tugged the harder, was I the more or the less gentlemanly?
+But the test is not a fair one. Curiosity tugged on the side of honour.
+This goes to prove me a cad? Oh, set against it the fact that I did
+at one point betray Clio's trust. When Miss Dobson had done the deed
+recorded at the close of the foregoing chapter, I gave the Duke of
+Dorset an hour's grace.
+
+I could have done no less. In the lives of most of us is some one thing
+that we would not after the lapse of how many years soever confess to
+our most understanding friend; the thing that does not bear thinking
+of; the one thing to be forgotten; the unforgettable thing. Not
+the commission of some great crime: this can be atoned for by great
+penances; and the very enormity of it has a dark grandeur. Maybe, some
+little deadly act of meanness, some hole-and-corner treachery? But
+what a man has once willed to do, his will helps him to forget. The
+unforgettable thing in his life is usually not a thing he has done or
+left undone, but a thing done to him--some insolence or cruelty for
+which he could not, or did not, avenge himself. This it is that often
+comes back to him, years after, in his dreams, and thrusts itself
+suddenly into his waking thoughts, so that he clenches his hands, and
+shakes his head, and hums a tune loudly--anything to beat it off. In the
+very hour when first befell him that odious humiliation, would you have
+spied on him? I gave the Duke of Dorset an hour's grace.
+
+What were his thoughts in that interval, what words, if any, he uttered
+to the night, never will be known. For this, Clio has abused me in
+language less befitting a Muse than a fishwife. I do not care. I would
+rather be chidden by Clio than by my own sense of delicacy, any day.
+
+
+
+
+XII
+
+Not less averse than from dogging the Duke was I from remaining another
+instant in the presence of Miss Dobson. There seemed to be no possible
+excuse for her. This time she had gone too far. She was outrageous. As
+soon as the Duke had had time to get clear away, I floated out into the
+night.
+
+I may have consciously reasoned that the best way to forget the present
+was in the revival of memories. Or I may have been driven by a mere
+homing instinct. Anyhow, it was in the direction of my old College that
+I went. Midnight was tolling as I floated in through the shut grim gate
+at which I had so often stood knocking for admission.
+
+The man who now occupied my room had sported his oak--my oak. I read the
+name on the visiting-card attached thereto--E. J. Craddock--and went in.
+
+E. J. Craddock, interloper, was sitting at my table, with elbows squared
+and head on one side, in the act of literary composition. The oars and
+caps on my walls betokened him a rowing-man. Indeed, I recognised his
+somewhat heavy face as that of the man whom, from the Judas barge this
+afternoon, I had seen rowing "stroke" in my College Eight.
+
+He ought, therefore, to have been in bed and asleep two hours ago. And
+the offence of his vigil was aggravated by a large tumbler that stood
+in front of him, containing whisky and soda. From this he took a deep
+draught. Then he read over what he had written. I did not care to peer
+over his shoulder at MS. which, though written in my room, was not
+intended for my eyes. But the writer's brain was open to me; and he had
+written "I, the undersigned Edward Joseph Craddock, do hereby leave and
+bequeath all my personal and other property to Zuleika Dobson, spinster.
+This is my last will and testament."
+
+He gnawed his pen, and presently altered the "hereby leave" to "hereby
+and herewith leave." Fool!
+
+I thereby and therewith left him. As I emerged through the floor of the
+room above--through the very carpet that had so often been steeped in
+wine, and encrusted with smithereens of glass, in the brave old days
+of a well-remembered occupant--I found two men, both of them evidently
+reading-men. One of them was pacing round the room. "Do you know," he
+was saying, "what she reminded me of, all the time? Those words--aren't
+they in the Song of Solomon?--'fair as the moon, clear as the sun,
+and... and...'"
+
+"'Terrible as an army with banners,'" supplied his host--rather testily,
+for he was writing a letter. It began "My dear Father. By the time you
+receive this I shall have taken a step which..."
+
+Clearly it was vain to seek distraction in my old College. I floated out
+into the untenanted meadows. Over them was the usual coverlet of white
+vapour, trailed from the Isis right up to Merton Wall. The scent of
+these meadows' moisture is the scent of Oxford. Even in hottest noon,
+one feels that the sun has not dried THEM. Always there is moisture
+drifting across them, drifting into the Colleges. It, one suspects,
+must have had much to do with the evocation of what is called the Oxford
+spirit--that gentlest spirit, so lingering and searching, so dear to
+them who as youths were brought into ken of it, so exasperating to them
+who were not. Yes, certainly, it is this mild, miasmal air, not less
+than the grey beauty and gravity of the buildings, that has helped
+Oxford to produce, and foster eternally, her peculiar race of
+artist-scholars, scholar-artists. The undergraduate, in his brief
+periods of residence, is too buoyant to be mastered by the spirit of
+the place. He does but salute it, and catch the manner. It is on him
+who stays to spend his maturity here that the spirit will in its fulness
+gradually descend. The buildings and their traditions keep astir in his
+mind whatsoever is gracious; the climate, enfolding and enfeebling him,
+lulling him, keeps him careless of the sharp, harsh, exigent realities
+of the outer world. Careless? Not utterly. These realities may be seen
+by him. He may study them, be amused or touched by them. But they cannot
+fire him. Oxford is too damp for that. The "movements" made there have
+been no more than protests against the mobility of others. They have
+been without the dynamic quality implied in their name. They have been
+no more than the sighs of men gazing at what other men had left behind
+them; faint, impossible appeals to the god of retrogression, uttered for
+their own sake and ritual, rather than with any intent that they should
+be heard. Oxford, that lotus-land, saps the will-power, the power
+of action. But, in doing so, it clarifies the mind, makes larger the
+vision, gives, above all, that playful and caressing suavity of manner
+which comes of a conviction that nothing matters, except ideas, and that
+not even ideas are worth dying for, inasmuch as the ghosts of them slain
+seem worthy of yet more piously elaborate homage than can be given to
+them in their heyday. If the Colleges could be transferred to the dry
+and bracing top of some hill, doubtless they would be more evidently
+useful to the nation. But let us be glad there is no engineer or
+enchanter to compass that task. Egomet, I would liefer have the rest of
+England subside into the sea than have Oxford set on a salubrious level.
+For there is nothing in England to be matched with what lurks in the
+vapours of these meadows, and in the shadows of these spires--that
+mysterious, inenubilable spirit, spirit of Oxford. Oxford! The very
+sight of the word printed, or sound of it spoken, is fraught for me with
+most actual magic.
+
+And on that moonlit night when I floated among the vapours of these
+meadows, myself less than a vapour, I knew and loved Oxford as never
+before, as never since. Yonder, in the Colleges, was the fume and fret
+of tragedy--Love as Death's decoy, and Youth following her. What then?
+Not Oxford was menaced. Come what might, not a stone of Oxford's walls
+would be loosened, nor a wreath of her vapours be undone, nor lost a
+breath of her sacred spirit.
+
+I floated up into the higher, drier air, that I might, for once, see the
+total body of that spirit.
+
+There lay Oxford far beneath me, like a map in grey and black and
+silver. All that I had known only as great single things I saw now
+outspread in apposition, and tiny; tiny symbols, as it were, of
+themselves, greatly symbolising their oneness. There they lay, these
+multitudinous and disparate quadrangles, all their rivalries merged in
+the making of a great catholic pattern. And the roofs of the buildings
+around them seemed level with their lawns. No higher the roofs of the
+very towers. Up from their tiny segment of the earth's spinning surface
+they stood negligible beneath infinity. And new, too, quite new, in
+eternity; transient upstarts. I saw Oxford as a place that had no more
+past and no more future than a mining-camp. I smiled down. O hoary and
+unassailable mushroom!... But if a man carry his sense of proportion far
+enough, lo! he is back at the point from which he started. He knows
+that eternity, as conceived by him, is but an instant in eternity, and
+infinity but a speck in infinity. How should they belittle the things
+near to him?... Oxford was venerable and magical, after all, and
+enduring. Aye, and not because she would endure was it the less
+lamentable that the young lives within her walls were like to be taken.
+My equanimity was gone; and a tear fell on Oxford.
+
+And then, as though Oxford herself were speaking up to me, the air
+vibrated with a sweet noise of music. It was the hour of one; the end
+of the Duke's hour of grace. Through the silvery tangle of sounds from
+other clocks I floated quickly down to the Broad.
+
+
+
+
+XIII
+
+I had on the way a horrible apprehension. What if the Duke, in his
+agony, had taken the one means to forgetfulness? His room, I could see,
+was lit up; but a man does not necessarily choose to die in the dark. I
+hovered, afraid, over the dome of the Sheldonian. I saw that the window
+of the room above the Duke's was also lit up. And there was no reason
+at all to doubt the survival of Noaks. Perhaps the sight of him would
+hearten me.
+
+I was wrong. The sight of Noaks in his room was as dismal a thing as
+could be. With his chin sunk on his breast, he sat there, on a rickety
+chair, staring up at the mantel-piece. This he had decked out as a sort
+of shrine. In the centre, aloft on an inverted tin that had contained
+Abernethy biscuits, stood a blue plush frame, with an inner rim of
+brass, several sizes too big for the picture-postcard installed in it.
+Zuleika's image gazed forth with a smile that was obviously not intended
+for the humble worshipper at this execrable shrine. On either side
+of her stood a small vase, one holding some geraniums, the other some
+mignonette. And just beneath her was placed that iron ring which,
+rightly or wrongly, Noaks supposed to alleviate rheumatism--that same
+iron ring which, by her touch to-night, had been charged for him with a
+yet deeper magic, insomuch that he dared no longer wear it, and had set
+it before her as an oblation.
+
+Yet, for all his humility, he was possessed by a spirit of egoism that
+repelled me. While he sat peering over his spectacles at the beauteous
+image, he said again and again to himself, in a hollow voice, "I am so
+young to die." Every time he said this, two large, pear-shaped
+tears emerged from behind his spectacles, and found their way to
+his waistcoat. It did not seem to strike him that quite half of
+the undergraduates who contemplated death--and contemplated it in a
+fearless, wholesome, manly fashion--were his juniors. It seemed to seem
+to him that his own death, even though all those other far brighter
+and more promising lives than his were to be sacrificed, was a thing to
+bother about. Well, if he did not want to die, why could he not have,
+at least, the courage of his cowardice? The world would not cease to
+revolve because Noaks still clung to its surface. For me the whole
+tragedy was cheapened by his participation in it. I was fain to
+leave him. His squint, his short legs dangling towards the floor, his
+tear-sodden waistcoat, and his refrain "I am so young to die," were
+beyond measure exasperating. Yet I hesitated to pass into the room
+beneath, for fear of what I might see there.
+
+How long I might have paltered, had no sound come from that room, I
+know not. But a sound came, sharp and sudden in the night, instantly
+reassuring. I swept down into the presence of the Duke.
+
+He stood with his head flung back and his arms folded, gorgeous in a
+dressing-gown of crimson brocade. In animation of pride and pomp,
+he looked less like a mortal man than like a figure from some great
+biblical group by Paul Veronese.
+
+And this was he whom I had presumed to pity! And this was he whom I had
+half expected to find dead.
+
+His face, usually pale, was now red; and his hair, which no eye had ever
+yet seen disordered, stood up in a glistening shock. These two changes
+in him intensified the effect of vitality. One of them, however,
+vanished as I watched it. The Duke's face resumed its pallor. I realised
+then that he had but blushed; and I realised, simultaneously, that what
+had called that blush to his cheek was what had also been the signal to
+me that he was alive. His blush had been a pendant to his sneeze. And
+his sneeze had been a pendant to that outrage which he had been striving
+to forget. He had caught cold.
+
+He had caught cold. In the hour of his soul's bitter need, his body had
+been suborned against him. Base! Had he not stripped his body of its
+wet vesture? Had he not vigorously dried his hair, and robed himself in
+crimson, and struck in solitude such attitudes as were most congruous
+with his high spirit and high rank? He had set himself to crush
+remembrance of that by which through his body his soul had been
+assailed. And well had he known that in this conflict a giant demon was
+his antagonist. But that his own body would play traitor--no, this he
+had not foreseen. This was too base a thing to be foreseen.
+
+He stood quite still, a figure orgulous and splendent. And it seemed as
+though the hot night, too, stood still, to watch him, in awe, through
+the open lattices of his window, breathlessly. But to me, equipped
+to see beneath the surface, he was piteous, piteous in ratio to the
+pretension of his aspect. Had he crouched down and sobbed, I should have
+been as much relieved as he. But he stood seignorial and aquiline.
+
+Painless, by comparison with this conflict in him, seemed the conflict
+that had raged in him yesternight. Then, it had been his dandihood
+against his passion for Zuleika. What mattered the issue? Whichever
+won, the victory were sweet. And of this he had all the while been
+subconscious, gallantly though he fought for his pride of dandihood.
+To-night in the battle between pride and memory, he knew from the outset
+that pride's was but a forlorn hope, and that memory would be barbarous
+in her triumph. Not winning to oblivion, he must hate with a fathomless
+hatred. Of all the emotions, hatred is the most excruciating. Of all
+the objects of hatred, a woman once loved is the most hateful. Of all
+deaths, the bitterest that can befall a man is that he lay down his life
+to flatter the woman he deems vilest of her sex.
+
+Such was the death that the Duke of Dorset saw confronting him. Most
+men, when they are at war with the past, have the future as ally.
+Looking steadfastly forward, they can forget. The Duke's future was
+openly in league with his past. For him, prospect was memory. All
+that there was for him of future was the death to which his honour was
+pledged. To envisage that was to... no, he would NOT envisage it! With a
+passionate effort he hypnotised himself to think of nothing at all. His
+brain, into which, by the power Zeus gave me, I was gazing, became a
+perfect vacuum, insulated by the will. It was the kind of experiment
+which scientists call "beautiful." And yes, beautiful it was.
+
+But not in the eyes of Nature. She abhors a vacuum. Seeing the enormous
+odds against which the Duke was fighting, she might well have stood
+aside. But she has no sense of sport whatsoever. She stepped in.
+
+At first I did not realise what was happening. I saw the Duke's eyes
+contract, and the muscles of his mouth drawn down, and, at the same
+time, a tense upward movement of his whole body. Then, suddenly, the
+strain undone: a downward dart of the head, a loud percussion. Thrice
+the Duke sneezed, with a sound that was as the bursting of the dams of
+body and soul together; then sneezed again.
+
+Now was his will broken. He capitulated. In rushed shame and horror and
+hatred, pell-mell, to ravage him.
+
+What care now, what use, for deportment? He walked coweringly round and
+round his room, with frantic gestures, with head bowed. He shuffled and
+slunk. His dressing-gown had the look of a gabardine.
+
+Shame and horror and hatred went slashing and hewing throughout the
+fallen citadel. At length, exhausted, he flung himself down on the
+window-seat and leaned out into the night, panting. The air was full of
+thunder. He clutched at his throat. From the depths of the black caverns
+beneath their brows the eyes of the unsleeping Emperors watched him.
+
+He had gone through much in the day that was past. He had loved and
+lost. He had striven to recapture, and had failed. In a strange resolve
+he had found serenity and joy. He had been at the point of death, and
+had been saved. He had seen that his beloved was worthless, and he had
+not cared. He had fought for her, and conquered; and had pled with her,
+and--all these memories were loathsome by reason of that final thing
+which had all the while lain in wait for him.
+
+He looked back and saw himself as he had been at a score of crucial
+moments in the day--always in the shadow of that final thing. He saw
+himself as he had been on the playing-fields of Eton; aye! and in the
+arms of his nurse, to and fro on the terrace of Tankerton--always in the
+shadow of that final thing, always piteous and ludicrous, doomed. Thank
+heaven the future was unknowable? It wasn't, now. To-morrow--to-day--he
+must die for that accursed fiend of a woman--the woman with the hyena
+laugh.
+
+What to do meanwhile? Impossible to sleep. He felt in his body the
+strain of his quick sequence of spiritual adventures. He was dog-tired.
+But his brain was furiously out of hand: no stopping it. And the night
+was stifling. And all the while, in the dead silence, as though his soul
+had ears, there was a sound. It was a very faint, unearthly sound, and
+seemed to come from nowhere, yet to have a meaning. He feared he was
+rather over-wrought.
+
+He must express himself. That would soothe him. Ever since childhood
+he had had, from time to time, the impulse to set down in writing
+his thoughts or his moods. In such exercises he had found for his
+self-consciousness the vent which natures less reserved than his find in
+casual talk with Tom, Dick and Harry, with Jane, Susan, and Liz. Aloof
+from either of these triads, he had in his first term at Eton taken to
+himself as confidant, and retained ever since, a great quarto volume,
+bound in red morocco and stamped with his coronet and cypher. It was
+herein, year by year, that his soul spread itself.
+
+He wrote mostly in English prose; but other modes were not infrequent.
+Whenever he was abroad, it was his courteous habit to write in the
+language of the country where he was residing--French, when he was in
+his house on the Champs Elysees; Italian, when he was in his villa at
+Baiae; and so on. When he was in his own country he felt himself free to
+deviate sometimes from the vernacular into whatever language were aptest
+to his frame of mind. In his sterner moods he gravitated to Latin,
+and wrought the noble iron of that language to effects that were, if
+anything, a trifle over-impressive. He found for his highest flights of
+contemplation a handy vehicle in Sanscrit. In hours of mere joy it was
+Greek poetry that flowed likeliest from his pen; and he had a special
+fondness for the metre of Alcaeus.
+
+And now, too, in his darkest hour, it was Greek that surged in
+him--iambics of thunderous wrath such as those which are volleyed by
+Prometheus. But as he sat down to his writing-table, and unlocked the
+dear old album, and dipped his pen in the ink, a great calm fell on him.
+The iambics in him began to breathe such sweetness as is on the lips of
+Alcestis going to her doom. But, just as he set pen to paper, his hand
+faltered, and he sprang up, victim of another and yet more violent fit
+of sneezing.
+
+Disbuskined, dangerous. The spirit of Juvenal woke in him. He would
+flay. He would make Woman (as he called Zuleika) writhe. Latin
+hexameters, of course. An epistle to his heir presumptive... "Vae tibi,"
+he began,
+
+     "Vae tibi, vae misero, nisi circumspexeris artes
+     Femineas, nam nulla salus quin femina possit
+     Tradere, nulla fides quin"--
+
+"Quin," he repeated. In writing soliloquies, his trouble was to
+curb inspiration. The thought that he was addressing his
+heir-presumptive--now heir-only-too-apparent--gave him pause. Nor, he
+reflected, was he addressing this brute only, but a huge posthumous
+audience. These hexameters would be sure to appear in the "authorised"
+biography. "A melancholy interest attaches to the following lines,
+written, it would seem, on the very eve of"... He winced. Was it really
+possible, and no dream, that he was to die to-morrow--to-day?
+
+Even you, unassuming reader, go about with a vague notion that in your
+case, somehow, the ultimate demand of nature will be waived. The
+Duke, until he conceived his sudden desire to die, had deemed himself
+certainly exempt. And now, as he sat staring at his window, he saw in
+the paling of the night the presage of the dawn of his own last day.
+Sometimes (orphaned though he was in early childhood) he had even found
+it hard to believe there was no exemption for those to whom he stood in
+any personal relation. He remembered how, soon after he went to Eton,
+he had received almost with incredulity the news of the death of his
+god-father, Lord Stackley, an octogenarian.... He took from the table
+his album, knowing that on one of the earliest pages was inscribed his
+boyish sense of that bereavement. Yes, here the passage was, written in
+a large round hand:
+
+"Death knocks, as we know, at the door of the cottage and of the castle.
+He stalks up the front-garden and the steep steps of the semi-detached
+villa, and plies the ornamental knocker so imperiously that the panels
+of imitation stained glass quiver in the thin front-door. Even the
+family that occupies the topmost story of a building without a lift is
+on his ghastly visiting-list. He rattles his fleshless knuckles against
+the door of the gypsy's caravan. Into the savage's tent, wigwam, or
+wattled hut, he darts unbidden. Even on the hermit in the cave he forces
+his obnoxious presence. His is an universal beat, and he walks it with
+a grin. But be sure it is at the sombre portal of the nobleman that he
+knocks with the greatest gusto. It is there, where haply his visit will
+be commemorated with a hatchment; it is then, when the muffled thunder
+of the Dead March in 'Saul' will soon be rolling in cathedrals; it
+is then, it is there, that the pride of his unquestioned power comes
+grimliest home to him. Is there no withstanding him? Why should he be
+admitted always with awe, a cravenly-honoured guest? When next he calls,
+let the butler send him about his business, or tell him to step round to
+the servants' entrance. If it be made plain to him that his visits are
+an impertinence, he will soon be disemboldened. Once the aristocracy
+make a stand against him, there need be no more trouble about the
+exorbitant Duties named after him. And for the hereditary system--that
+system which both offends the common sense of the Radical, and wounds
+the Tory by its implied admission that noblemen are mortal--a seemly
+substitute will have been found."
+
+Artless and crude in expression, very boyish, it seemed now to its
+author. Yet, in its simple wistfulness, it had quality: it rang true.
+The Duke wondered whether, with all that he had since mastered in the
+great art of English prose, he had not lost something, too.
+
+"Is there no withstanding him?" To think that the boy who uttered that
+cry, and gave back so brave an answer, was within nine years to go
+seek death of his own accord! How the gods must be laughing! Yes,
+the exquisite point of the joke, for them, was that he CHOSE to die.
+But--and, as the thought flashed through him, he started like a man
+shot--what if he chose not to? Stay, surely there was some reason why
+he MUST die. Else, why throughout the night had he taken his doom for
+granted?... Honour: yes, he had pledged himself. Better death than
+dishonour. Was it, though? was it? Ah, he, who had come so near to
+death, saw dishonour as a tiny trifle. Where was the sting of it? Not
+he would be ridiculous to-morrow--to-day. Every one would acclaim his
+splendid act of moral courage. She, she, the hyena woman, would be the
+fool. No one would have thought of dying for her, had he not set the
+example. Every one would follow his new example. Yes, he would
+save Oxford yet. That was his duty. Duty and darling vengeance! And
+life--life!
+
+It was full dawn now. Gone was that faint, monotonous sound which had
+punctuated in his soul the horrors of his vigil. But, in reminder of
+those hours, his lamp was still burning. He extinguished it; and the
+going-out of that tarnished light made perfect his sense of release.
+
+He threw wide his arms in welcome of the great adorable day, and of all
+the great adorable days that were to be his.
+
+He leaned out from his window, drinking the dawn in. The gods had
+made merry over him, had they? And the cry of the hyena had made night
+hideous. Well, it was his turn now. He would laugh last and loudest.
+
+And already, for what was to be, he laughed outright into the morning;
+insomuch that the birds in the trees of Trinity, and still more the
+Emperors over the way, marvelled greatly.
+
+
+
+
+XIV
+
+They had awaited thousands and innumerable thousands of daybreaks in the
+Broad, these Emperors, counting the long slow hours till the night were
+over. It is in the night especially that their fallen greatness haunts
+them. Day brings some distraction. They are not incurious of the lives
+around them--these little lives that succeed one another so quickly. To
+them, in their immemorial old age, youth is a constant wonder. And so
+is death, which to them comes not. Youth or death--which, they had often
+asked themselves, was the goodlier? But it was ill that these two things
+should be mated. It was ill-come, this day of days.
+
+Long after the Duke was in bed and asleep, his peal of laughter echoed
+in the ears of the Emperors. Why had he laughed?
+
+And they said to themselves "We are very old men, and broken, and in a
+land not our own. There are things that we do not understand."
+
+Brief was the freshness of the dawn. From all points of the compass,
+dark grey clouds mounted into the sky. There, taking their places
+as though in accordance to a strategic plan laid down for them, they
+ponderously massed themselves, and presently, as at a given signal,
+drew nearer to earth, and halted, an irresistible great army, awaiting
+orders.
+
+Somewhere under cover of them the sun went his way, transmitting a
+sulphurous heat. The very birds in the trees of Trinity were oppressed
+and did not twitter. The very leaves did not whisper.
+
+Out through the railings, and across the road, prowled a skimpy and
+dingy cat, trying to look like a tiger.
+
+It was all very sinister and dismal.
+
+The hours passed. The Broad put forth, one by one, its signs of waking.
+
+Soon after eight o'clock, as usual, the front-door of the Duke's
+lodgings was opened from within. The Emperors watched for the faint
+cloud of dust that presently emerged, and for her whom it preceded. To
+them, this first outcoming of the landlady's daughter was a moment of
+daily interest. Katie!--they had known her as a toddling child; and
+later as a little girl scampering off to school, all legs and pinafore
+and streaming golden hair. And now she was sixteen years old. Her hair,
+tied back at the nape of her neck, would very soon be "up." Her big
+blue eyes were as they had always been; but she had long passed out of
+pinafores into aprons, had taken on a sedateness befitting her years and
+her duties, and was anxious to be regarded rather as an aunt than as
+a sister by her brother Clarence, aged twelve. The Emperors had always
+predicted that she would be pretty. And very pretty she was.
+
+As she came slowly out, with eyes downcast to her broom, sweeping the
+dust so seriously over the doorstep and then across the pavement, and
+anon when she reappeared with pail and scrubbing-brush, and abased
+herself before the doorstep, and wrought so vehemently there, what
+filled her little soul was not the dignity of manual labour. The duties
+that Zuleika had envied her were dear to her exactly as they would have
+been, yesterday morning, to Zuleika. The Emperors had often noticed that
+during vacations their little favourite's treatment of the doorstep was
+languid and perfunctory. They knew well her secret, and always (for who
+can be long in England without becoming sentimental?) they cherished the
+hope of a romantic union between her and "a certain young gentleman," as
+they archly called the Duke. His continued indifference to her they took
+almost as an affront to themselves. Where in all England was a prettier,
+sweeter girl than their Katie? The sudden irruption of Zuleika into
+Oxford was especially grievous to them because they could no longer
+hope against hope that Katie would be led by the Duke to the altar, and
+thence into the highest social circles, and live happily ever after.
+Luckily it was for Katie, however, that they had no power to fill her
+head with their foolish notions. It was well for her to have never
+doubted she loved in vain. She had soon grown used to her lot. Not until
+yesterday had there been any bitterness. Jealousy surged in Katie at the
+very moment when she beheld Zuleika on the threshold. A glance at the
+Duke's face when she showed the visitor up was enough to acquaint
+her with the state of his heart. And she did not, for confirming her
+intuition, need the two or three opportunities she took of listening at
+the keyhole. What in the course of those informal audiences did surprise
+her--so much indeed that she could hardly believe her ear--was that it
+was possible for a woman not to love the Duke. Her jealousy of "that
+Miss Dobson" was for a while swallowed up in her pity for him. What she
+had borne so cheerfully for herself she could not bear for her hero. She
+wished she had not happened to listen.
+
+And this morning, while she knelt swaying and spreading over "his"
+doorstep, her blue eyes added certain tears to be scrubbed away in the
+general moisture of the stone. Rising, she dried her hands in her apron,
+and dried her eyes with her hands. Lest her mother should see that she
+had been crying, she loitered outside the door. Suddenly, her roving
+glance changed to a stare of acute hostility. She knew well that the
+person wandering towards her was--no, not "that Miss Dobson," as she had
+for the fraction of an instant supposed, but the next worst thing.
+
+It has been said that Melisande indoors was an evidently French maid.
+Out of doors she was not less evidently Zuleika's. Not that she aped her
+mistress. The resemblance had come by force of propinquity and devotion.
+Nature had laid no basis for it. Not one point of form or colour had
+the two women in common. It has been said that Zuleika was not strictly
+beautiful. Melisande, like most Frenchwomen, was strictly plain. But
+in expression and port, in her whole tournure, she had become, as
+every good maid does, her mistress' replica. The poise of her head, the
+boldness of her regard and brilliance of her smile, the leisurely and
+swinging way in which she walked, with a hand on the hip--all these
+things of hers were Zuleika's too. She was no conqueror. None but the
+man to whom she was betrothed--a waiter at the Cafe Tourtel, named
+Pelleas--had ever paid court to her; nor was she covetous of other
+hearts. Yet she looked victorious, and insatiable of victories, and
+"terrible as an army with banners."
+
+In the hand that was not on her hip she carried a letter. And on her
+shoulders she had to bear the full burden of the hatred that Zuleika had
+inspired in Katie. But this she did not know. She came glancing boldly,
+leisurely, at the numbers on the front-doors.
+
+Katie stepped back on to the doorstep, lest the inferiority of her
+stature should mar the effect of her disdain.
+
+"Good-day. Is it here that Duke D'Orsay lives?" asked Melisande, as
+nearly accurate as a Gaul may be in such matters.
+
+"The Duke of Dorset," said Katie with a cold and insular emphasis,
+"lives here." And "You," she tried to convey with her eyes, "you, for
+all your smart black silk, are a hireling. I am Miss Batch. I happen to
+have a hobby for housework. I have not been crying."
+
+"Then please mount this to him at once," said Melisande, holding out the
+letter. "It is from Miss Dobson's part. Very express. I wait response."
+
+"You are very ugly," Katie signalled with her eyes. "I am very pretty.
+I have the Oxfordshire complexion. And I play the piano." With her lips
+she said merely, "His Grace is not called before nine o'clock."
+
+"But to-day you go wake him now--quick--is it not?"
+
+"Quite out of the question," said Katie. "If you care to leave
+that letter here, I will see that it is placed on his Grace's
+breakfast-table, with the morning's post." "For the rest," added her
+eyes, "Down with France!"
+
+"I find you droll, but droll, my little one!" cried Melisande.
+
+Katie stepped back and shut the door in her face. "Like a little
+Empress," the Emperors commented.
+
+The Frenchwoman threw up her hands and apostrophised heaven. To this day
+she believes that all the bonnes of Oxford are mad, but mad, and of a
+madness.
+
+She stared at the door, at the pail and scrubbing-brush that had been
+shut out with her, at the letter in her hand. She decided that she had
+better drop the letter into the slit in the door and make report to Miss
+Dobson.
+
+As the envelope fell through the slit to the door-mat, Katie made at
+Melisande a grimace which, had not the panels been opaque, would have
+astonished the Emperors. Resuming her dignity, she picked the thing up,
+and, at arm's length, examined it. It was inscribed in pencil. Katie's
+lips curled at sight of the large, audacious handwriting. But it is
+probable that whatever kind of handwriting Zuleika might have had would
+have been just the kind that Katie would have expected.
+
+Fingering the envelope, she wondered what the wretched woman had to
+say. It occurred to her that the kettle was simmering on the hob in the
+kitchen, and that she might easily steam open the envelope and master
+its contents. However, her doing this would have in no way affected
+the course of the tragedy. And so the gods (being to-day in a strictly
+artistic mood) prompted her to mind her own business.
+
+Laying the Duke's table for breakfast, she made as usual a neat
+rectangular pile of the letters that had come for him by post. Zuleika's
+letter she threw down askew. That luxury she allowed herself.
+
+And he, when he saw the letter, allowed himself the luxury of leaving it
+unopened awhile. Whatever its purport, he knew it could but minister to
+his happy malice. A few hours ago, with what shame and dread it would
+have stricken him! Now it was a dainty to be dallied with.
+
+His eyes rested on the black tin boxes that contained his robes of the
+Garter. Hateful had been the sight of them in the watches of the night,
+when he thought he had worn those robes for the last time. But now--!
+
+He opened Zuleika's letter. It did not disappoint him.
+
+
+"DEAR DUKE,--DO, DO forgive me. I am beyond words ashamed of the silly
+tomboyish thing I did last night. Of course it was no worse than that,
+but an awful fear haunts me that you MAY have thought I acted in anger
+at the idea of your breaking your promise to me. Well, it is quite true
+I had been hurt and angry when you hinted at doing that, but the moment
+I left you I saw that you had been only in fun, and I enjoyed the joke
+against myself, though I thought it was rather too bad of you. And
+then, as a sort of revenge, but almost before I knew what I was doing,
+I played that IDIOTIC practical joke on you. I have been MISERABLE ever
+since. DO come round as early as possible and tell me I am forgiven. But
+before you tell me that, please lecture me till I cry--though indeed I
+have been crying half through the night. And then if you want to be VERY
+horrid you may tease me for being so slow to see a joke. And then you
+might take me to see some of the Colleges and things before we go on to
+lunch at The MacQuern's? Forgive pencil and scrawl. Am sitting up in bed
+to write.--Your sincere friend,
+
+"Z. D.
+
+"P.S.--Please burn this."
+
+
+At that final injunction, the Duke abandoned himself to his mirth.
+"Please burn this." Poor dear young woman, how modest she was in the
+glare of her diplomacy! Why there was nothing, not one phrase, to
+compromise her in the eyes of a coroner's jury!... Seriously, she
+had good reason to be proud of her letter. For the purpose in view it
+couldn't have been better done. That was what made it so touchingly
+absurd. He put himself in her position. He pictured himself as her,
+"sitting up in bed," pencil in hand, to explain away, to soothe, to
+clinch and bind... Yes, if he had happened to be some other man--one
+whom her insult might have angered without giving love its death-blow,
+and one who could be frightened out of not keeping his word--this letter
+would have been capital.
+
+He helped himself to some more marmalade, and poured out another cup of
+coffee. Nothing is more thrilling, thought he, than to be treated as a
+cully by the person you hold in the hollow of your hand.
+
+But within this great irony lay (to be glided over) another irony. He
+knew well in what mood Zuleika had done what she had done to him last
+night; yet he preferred to accept her explanation of it.
+
+Officially, then, he acquitted her of anything worse than tomboyishness.
+But this verdict for his own convenience implied no mercy to the
+culprit. The sole point for him was how to administer her punishment the
+most poignantly. Just how should he word his letter?
+
+He rose from his chair, and "Dear Miss Dobson--no, MY dear Miss Dobson,"
+he murmured, pacing the room, "I am so very sorry I cannot come to see
+you: I have to attend two lectures this morning. By contrast with this
+weariness, it will be the more delightful to meet you at The MacQuern's.
+I want to see as much as I can of you to-day, because to-night there is
+the Bump Supper, and to-morrow morning, alas! I must motor to Windsor
+for this wretched Investiture. Meanwhile, how can you ask to be forgiven
+when there is nothing whatever to forgive? It seems to me that mine, not
+yours, is the form of humour that needs explanation. My proposal to die
+for you was made in as playful a spirit as my proposal to marry you. And
+it is really for me to ask forgiveness of you. One thing especially," he
+murmured, fingering in his waistcoat-pocket the ear-rings she had given
+him, "pricks my conscience. I do feel that I ought not to have let
+you give me these two pearls--at any rate, not the one which went into
+premature mourning for me. As I have no means of deciding which of the
+two this one is, I enclose them both, with the hope that the pretty
+difference between them will in time reappear"... Or words to that
+effect... Stay! why not add to the joy of contriving that effect the
+greater joy of watching it? Why send Zuleika a letter? He would obey her
+summons. He would speed to her side. He snatched up a hat.
+
+In this haste, however, he detected a certain lack of dignity. He
+steadied himself, and went slowly to the mirror. There he adjusted his
+hat with care, and regarded himself very seriously, very sternly, from
+various angles, like a man invited to paint his own portrait for the
+Uffizi. He must be worthy of himself. It was well that Zuleika should
+be chastened. Great was her sin. Out of life and death she had fashioned
+toys for her vanity. But his joy must be in vindication of what was
+noble, not in making suffer what was vile. Yesterday he had been her
+puppet, her Jumping-Jack; to-day it was as avenging angel that he would
+appear before her. The gods had mocked him who was now their minister.
+Their minister? Their master, as being once more master of himself. It
+was they who had plotted his undoing. Because they loved him they were
+fain that he should die young. The Dobson woman was but their agent,
+their cat's-paw. By her they had all but got him. Not quite! And now, to
+teach them, through her, a lesson they would not soon forget, he would
+go forth.
+
+Shaking with laughter, the gods leaned over the thunder-clouds to watch
+him.
+
+He went forth.
+
+On the well-whitened doorstep he was confronted by a small boy in
+uniform bearing a telegram.
+
+"Duke of Dorset?" asked the small boy.
+
+Opening the envelope, the Duke saw that the message, with which was a
+prepaid form for reply, had been handed in at the Tankerton post-office.
+It ran thus:
+
+
+     Deeply regret inform your grace last night
+     two black owls came and perched on battlements
+     remained there through night hooting
+     at dawn flew away none knows whither
+     awaiting instructions            Jellings
+
+
+The Duke's face, though it grew white, moved not one muscle.
+
+Somewhat shamed now, the gods ceased from laughing.
+
+The Duke looked from the telegram to the boy. "Have you a pencil?" he
+asked.
+
+"Yes, my Lord," said the boy, producing a stump of pencil.
+
+Holding the prepaid form against the door, the Duke wrote:
+
+
+     Jellings Tankerton Hall
+     Prepare vault for funeral Monday
+
+                              Dorset
+
+
+His handwriting was as firmly and minutely beautiful as ever. Only in
+that he forgot there was nothing to pay did he belie his calm. "Here,"
+he said to the boy, "is a shilling; and you may keep the change."
+
+"Thank you, my Lord," said the boy, and went his way, as happy as a
+postman.
+
+
+
+
+XV
+
+Humphrey Greddon, in the Duke's place, would have taken a pinch of
+snuff. But he could not have made that gesture with a finer air than the
+Duke gave to its modern equivalent. In the art of taking and lighting
+a cigarette, there was one man who had no rival in Europe. This time he
+outdid even himself.
+
+"Ah," you say, "but 'pluck' is one thing, endurance another. A man who
+doesn't reel on receipt of his death-warrant may yet break down when he
+has had time to think it over. How did the Duke acquit himself when he
+came to the end of his cigarette? And by the way, how was it that after
+he had read the telegram you didn't give him again an hour's grace?"
+
+In a way, you have a perfect right to ask both those questions. But
+their very pertinence shows that you think I might omit things that
+matter. Please don't interrupt me again. Am _I_ writing this history, or
+are you?
+
+Though the news that he must die was a yet sharper douche, as you have
+suggested, than the douche inflicted by Zuleika, it did at least leave
+unscathed the Duke's pride. The gods can make a man ridiculous through
+a woman, but they cannot make him ridiculous when they deal him a blow
+direct. The very greatness of their power makes them, in that respect,
+impotent. They had decreed that the Duke should die, and they had told
+him so. There was nothing to demean him in that. True, he had just
+measured himself against them. But there was no shame in being
+gravelled. The peripety was according to the best rules of tragic art.
+The whole thing was in the grand manner.
+
+Thus I felt that there were no indelicacy, this time, in watching
+him. Just as "pluck" comes of breeding, so is endurance especially an
+attribute of the artist. Because he can stand outside himself, and (if
+there be nothing ignoble in them) take a pleasure in his own sufferings,
+the artist has a huge advantage over you and me. The Duke, so soon
+as Zuleika's spell was broken, had become himself again--a highly
+self-conscious artist in life. And now, standing pensive on the
+doorstep, he was almost enviable in his great affliction.
+
+Through the wreaths of smoke which, as they came from his lips, hung in
+the sultry air as they would have hung in a closed room, he gazed up at
+the steadfast thunder-clouds. How nobly they had been massed for him!
+One of them, a particularly large and dark one, might with advantage,
+he thought, have been placed a little further to the left. He made a
+gesture to that effect. Instantly the cloud rolled into position.
+The gods were painfully anxious, now, to humour him in trifles. His
+behaviour in the great emergency had so impressed them at a distance
+that they rather dreaded meeting him anon at close quarters. They rather
+wished they had not uncaged, last night, the two black owls. Too late.
+What they had done they had done.
+
+That faint monotonous sound in the stillness of the night--the Duke
+remembered it now. What he had thought to be only his fancy had been
+his death-knell, wafted to him along uncharted waves of ether, from the
+battlements of Tankerton. It had ceased at daybreak. He wondered now
+that he had not guessed its meaning. And he was glad that he had not.
+He was thankful for the peace that had been granted to him, the joyous
+arrogance in which he had gone to bed and got up for breakfast. He
+valued these mercies the more for the great tragic irony that came of
+them. Aye, and he was inclined to blame the gods for not having kept him
+still longer in the dark and so made the irony still more awful. Why had
+they not caused the telegram to be delayed in transmission? They
+ought to have let him go and riddle Zuleika with his scorn and his
+indifference. They ought to have let him hurl through her his defiance
+of them. Art aside, they need not have grudged him that excursion.
+
+He could not, he told himself, face Zuleika now. As artist, he saw that
+there was irony enough left over to make the meeting a fine one. As
+theologian, he did not hold her responsible for his destiny. But as a
+man, after what she had done to him last night, and before what he had
+to do for her to-day, he would not go out of his way to meet her. Of
+course, he would not actually avoid her. To seem to run away from her
+were beneath his dignity. But, if he did meet her, what in heaven's
+name should he say to her? He remembered his promise to lunch with The
+MacQuern, and shuddered. She would be there. Death, as he had said,
+cancelled all engagements. A very simple way out of the difficulty would
+be to go straight to the river. No, that would be like running away. It
+couldn't be done.
+
+Hardly had he rejected the notion when he had a glimpse of a female
+figure coming quickly round the corner--a glimpse that sent him walking
+quickly away, across the road, towards Turl Street, blushing violently.
+Had she seen him? he asked himself. And had she seen that he saw her?
+He heard her running after him. He did not look round, he quickened his
+pace. She was gaining on him. Involuntarily, he ran--ran like a hare,
+and, at the corner of Turl Street, rose like a trout, saw the pavement
+rise at him, and fell, with a bang, prone.
+
+Let it be said at once that in this matter the gods were absolutely
+blameless. It is true they had decreed that a piece of orange-peel
+should be thrown down this morning at the corner of Turl Street. But
+the Master of Balliol, not the Duke, was the person they had destined
+to slip on it. You must not imagine that they think out and appoint
+everything that is to befall us, down to the smallest detail. Generally,
+they just draw a sort of broad outline, and leave us to fill it in
+according to our taste. Thus, in the matters of which this book is
+record, it was they who made the Warden invite his grand-daughter to
+Oxford, and invite the Duke to meet her on the evening of her arrival.
+And it was they who prompted the Duke to die for her on the following
+(Tuesday) afternoon. They had intended that he should execute his
+resolve after, or before, the boat-race of that evening. But an
+oversight upset this plan. They had forgotten on Monday night to uncage
+the two black owls; and so it was necessary that the Duke's death should
+be postponed. They accordingly prompted Zuleika to save him. For the
+rest, they let the tragedy run its own course--merely putting in a
+felicitous touch here and there, or vetoing a superfluity, such as that
+Katie should open Zuleika's letter. It was no part of their scheme that
+the Duke should mistake Melisande for her mistress, or that he should
+run away from her, and they were genuinely sorry when he, instead of the
+Master of Balliol, came to grief over the orange-peel.
+
+Them, however, the Duke cursed as he fell; them again as he raised
+himself on one elbow, giddy and sore; and when he found that the woman
+bending over him was not she whom he dreaded, but her innocent maid, it
+was against them that he almost foamed at the mouth.
+
+"Monsieur le Duc has done himself harm--no?" panted Melisande. "Here is
+a letter from Miss Dobson's part. She say to me 'Give it him with your
+own hand.'"
+
+The Duke received the letter and, sitting upright, tore it to shreds,
+thus confirming a suspicion which Melisande had conceived at the moment
+when he took to his heels, that all English noblemen are mad, but mad,
+and of a madness.
+
+"Nom de Dieu," she cried, wringing her hands, "what shall I tell to
+Mademoiselle?"
+
+"Tell her--" the Duke choked back a phrase of which the memory would
+have shamed his last hours. "Tell her," he substituted, "that you have
+seen Marius sitting among the ruins of Carthage," and limped quickly
+away down the Turl.
+
+Both his hands had been abraded by the fall. He tended them angrily
+with his handkerchief. Mr. Druce, the chemist, had anon the privilege of
+bathing and plastering them, also of balming and binding the right knee
+and the left shin. "Might have been a very nasty accident, your Grace,"
+he said. "It was," said the Duke. Mr. Druce concurred.
+
+Nevertheless, Mr. Druce's remark sank deep. The Duke thought it quite
+likely that the gods had intended the accident to be fatal, and that
+only by his own skill and lightness in falling had he escaped the
+ignominy of dying in full flight from a lady's-maid. He had not, you
+see, lost all sense of free-will. While Mr. Druce put the finishing
+touches to his shin, "I am utterly purposed," he said to himself, "that
+for this death of mine I will choose my own manner and my own--well, not
+'time' exactly, but whatever moment within my brief span of life shall
+seem aptest to me. Unberufen," he added, lightly tapping Mr. Druce's
+counter.
+
+The sight of some bottles of Cold Mixture on that hospitable board
+reminded him of a painful fact. In the clash of the morning's
+excitements, he had hardly felt the gross ailment that was on him.
+He became fully conscious of it now, and there leapt in him a hideous
+doubt: had he escaped a violent death only to succumb to "natural
+causes"? He had never hitherto had anything the matter with him, and
+thus he belonged to the worst, the most apprehensive, class of patients.
+He knew that a cold, were it neglected, might turn malignant; and he
+had a vision of himself gripped suddenly in the street by internal
+agonies--a sympathetic crowd, an ambulance, his darkened bedroom; local
+doctor making hopelessly wrong diagnosis; eminent specialists served up
+hot by special train, commending local doctor's treatment, but shaking
+their heads and refusing to say more than "He has youth on his side"; a
+slight rally at sunset; the end. All this flashed through his mind. He
+quailed. There was not a moment to lose. He frankly confessed to Mr.
+Druce that he had a cold.
+
+Mr. Druce, trying to insinuate by his manner that this fact had not been
+obvious, suggested the Mixture--a teaspoonful every two hours. "Give me
+some now, please, at once," said the Duke.
+
+He felt magically better for the draught. He handled the little glass
+lovingly, and eyed the bottle. "Why not two teaspoonfuls every hour?"
+he suggested, with an eagerness almost dipsomaniacal. But Mr. Druce was
+respectfully firm against that. The Duke yielded. He fancied, indeed,
+that the gods had meant him to die of an overdose.
+
+Still, he had a craving for more. Few though his hours were, he hoped
+the next two would pass quickly. And, though he knew Mr. Druce could be
+trusted to send the bottle round to his rooms immediately, he preferred
+to carry it away with him. He slipped it into the breast-pocket of his
+coat, almost heedless of the slight extrusion it made there.
+
+Just as he was about to cross the High again, on his way home, a
+butcher's cart dashed down the slope, recklessly driven. He stepped well
+back on the pavement, and smiled a sardonic smile. He looked to right
+and to left, carefully gauging the traffic. Some time elapsed before he
+deemed the road clear enough for transit.
+
+Safely across, he encountered a figure that seemed to loom up out of the
+dim past. Oover! Was it but yesternight that Oover dined with him? With
+the sensation of a man groping among archives, he began to apologise to
+the Rhodes Scholar for having left him so abruptly at the Junta. Then,
+presto!--as though those musty archives were changed to a crisp morning
+paper agog with terrific head-lines--he remembered the awful resolve of
+Oover, and of all young Oxford.
+
+"Of course," he asked, with a lightness that hardly hid his dread of the
+answer, "you have dismissed the notion you were toying with when I left
+you?"
+
+Oover's face, like his nature, was as sensitive as it was massive,
+and it instantly expressed his pain at the doubt cast on his high
+seriousness. "Duke," he asked, "d'you take me for a skunk?"
+
+"Without pretending to be quite sure what a skunk is," said the Duke,
+"I take you to be all that it isn't. And the high esteem in which I
+hold you is the measure for me of the loss that your death would be to
+America and to Oxford."
+
+Oover blushed. "Duke" he said "that's a bully testimonial. But don't
+worry. America can turn out millions just like me, and Oxford can have
+as many of them as she can hold. On the other hand, how many of YOU
+can be turned out, as per sample, in England? Yet you choose to destroy
+yourself. You avail yourself of the Unwritten Law. And you're right,
+Sir. Love transcends all."
+
+"But does it? What if I told you I had changed my mind?"
+
+"Then, Duke," said Oover, slowly, "I should believe that all those yarns
+I used to hear about the British aristocracy were true, after all. I
+should aver that you were not a white man. Leading us on like that, and
+then--Say, Duke! Are you going to die to-day, or not?"
+
+"As a matter of fact, I am, but--"
+
+"Shake!"
+
+"But--"
+
+Oover wrung the Duke's hand, and was passing on. "Stay!" he was adjured.
+
+"Sorry, unable. It's just turning eleven o'clock, and I've a lecture.
+While life lasts, I'm bound to respect Rhodes' intentions." The
+conscientious Scholar hurried away.
+
+The Duke wandered down the High, taking counsel with himself. He was
+ashamed of having so utterly forgotten the mischief he had wrought at
+large. At dawn he had vowed to undo it. Undo it he must. But the task
+was not a simple one now. If he could say "Behold, I take back my word.
+I spurn Miss Dobson, and embrace life," it was possible that his example
+would suffice. But now that he could only say "Behold, I spurn Miss
+Dobson, and will not die for her, but I am going to commit suicide, all
+the same," it was clear that his words would carry very little force.
+Also, he saw with pain that they placed him in a somewhat ludicrous
+position. His end, as designed yesterday, had a large and simple
+grandeur. So had his recantation of it. But this new compromise between
+the two things had a fumbled, a feeble, an ignoble look. It seemed to
+combine all the disadvantages of both courses. It stained his honour
+without prolonging his life. Surely, this was a high price to pay for
+snubbing Zuleika... Yes, he must revert without more ado to his first
+scheme. He must die in the manner that he had blazoned forth. And he
+must do it with a good grace, none knowing he was not glad; else the
+action lost all dignity. True, this was no way to be a saviour. But only
+by not dying at all could he have set a really potent example.... He
+remembered the look that had come into Oover's eyes just now at the
+notion of his unfaith. Perhaps he would have been the mock, not the
+saviour, of Oxford. Better dishonour than death, maybe. But, since
+die he must, he must die not belittling or tarnishing the name of
+Tanville-Tankerton.
+
+Within these bounds, however, he must put forth his full might to avert
+the general catastrophe--and to punish Zuleika nearly well enough, after
+all, by intercepting that vast nosegay from her outstretched hands
+and her distended nostrils. There was no time to be lost, then. But he
+wondered, as he paced the grand curve between St. Mary's and Magdalen
+Bridge, just how was he to begin?
+
+Down the flight of steps from Queen's came lounging an average
+undergraduate.
+
+"Mr. Smith," said the Duke, "a word with you."
+
+"But my name is not Smith," said the young man.
+
+"Generically it is," replied the Duke. "You are Smith to all intents
+and purposes. That, indeed, is why I address you. In making your
+acquaintance, I make a thousand acquaintances. You are a short cut to
+knowledge. Tell me, do you seriously think of drowning yourself this
+afternoon?"
+
+"Rather," said the undergraduate.
+
+"A meiosis in common use, equivalent to 'Yes, assuredly,'" murmured the
+Duke. "And why," he then asked, "do you mean to do this?"
+
+"Why? How can you ask? Why are YOU going to do it?"
+
+"The Socratic manner is not a game at which two can play. Please answer
+my question, to the best of your ability."
+
+"Well, because I can't live without her. Because I want to prove my love
+for her. Because--"
+
+"One reason at a time please," said the Duke, holding up his hand. "You
+can't live without her? Then I am to assume that you look forward to
+dying?"
+
+"Rather."
+
+"You are truly happy in that prospect?"
+
+"Yes. Rather."
+
+"Now, suppose I showed you two pieces of equally fine amber--a big one
+and a little one. Which of these would you rather possess?"
+
+"The big one, I suppose."
+
+"And this because it is better to have more than to have less of a good
+thing?"
+
+"Just so."
+
+"Do you consider happiness a good thing or a bad one?"
+
+"A good one."
+
+"So that a man would rather have more than less of happiness?"
+
+"Undoubtedly."
+
+"Then does it not seem to you that you would do well to postpone your
+suicide indefinitely?"
+
+"But I have just said I can't live without her."
+
+"You have still more recently declared yourself truly happy."
+
+"Yes, but--"
+
+"Now, be careful, Mr. Smith. Remember, this is a matter of life and
+death. Try to do yourself justice. I have asked you--"
+
+But the undergraduate was walking away, not without a certain dignity.
+
+The Duke felt that he had not handled his man skilfully. He remembered
+that even Socrates, for all the popular charm of his mock-modesty and
+his true geniality, had ceased after a while to be tolerable. Without
+such a manner to grace his method, Socrates would have had a very brief
+time indeed. The Duke recoiled from what he took to be another pitfall.
+He almost smelt hemlock.
+
+A party of four undergraduates abreast was approaching. How should he
+address them? His choice wavered between the evangelic wistfulness of
+"Are you saved?" and the breeziness of the recruiting sergeant's "Come,
+you're fine upstanding young fellows. Isn't it a pity," etc. Meanwhile,
+the quartet had passed by.
+
+Two other undergraduates approached. The Duke asked them simply as a
+personal favour to himself not to throw away their lives. They said
+they were very sorry, but in this particular matter they must please
+themselves. In vain he pled. They admitted that but for his example they
+would never have thought of dying. They wished they could show him their
+gratitude in any way but the one which would rob them of it.
+
+The Duke drifted further down the High, bespeaking every undergraduate
+he met, leaving untried no argument, no inducement. For one man, whose
+name he happened to know, he invented an urgent personal message from
+Miss Dobson imploring him not to die on her account. On another man he
+offered to settle by hasty codicil a sum of money sufficient to yield
+an annual income of two thousand pounds--three thousand--any sum within
+reason. With another he offered to walk, arm in arm, to Carfax and back
+again. All to no avail.
+
+He found himself in the precincts of Magdalen, preaching from the little
+open-air pulpit there an impassioned sermon on the sacredness of human
+life, and referring to Zuleika in terms which John Knox would have
+hesitated to utter. As he piled up the invective, he noticed an ominous
+restiveness in the congregation--murmurs, clenching of hands, dark
+looks. He saw the pulpit as yet another trap laid for him by the gods.
+He had walked straight into it: another moment, and he might be dragged
+down, overwhelmed by numbers, torn limb from limb. All that was in
+him of quelling power he put hastily into his eyes, and manoeuvred his
+tongue to gentler discourse, deprecating his right to judge "this lady,"
+and merely pointing the marvel, the awful though noble folly, of his
+resolve. He ended on a note of quiet pathos. "To-night I shall be among
+the shades. There be not you, my brothers."
+
+Good though the sermon was in style and sentiment, the flaw in its
+reasoning was too patent for any converts to be made. As he walked out
+of the quadrangle, the Duke felt the hopelessness of his cause. Still
+he battled bravely for it up the High, waylaying, cajoling, commanding,
+offering vast bribes. He carried his crusade into the Loder, and
+thence into Vincent's, and out into the street again, eager, untiring,
+unavailing: everywhere he found his precept checkmated by his example.
+
+The sight of The MacQuern coming out top-speed from the Market, with
+a large but inexpensive bunch of flowers, reminded him of the luncheon
+that was to be. Never to throw over an engagement was for him, as we
+have seen, a point of honour. But this particular engagement--hateful,
+when he accepted it, by reason of his love--was now impossible for
+the reason which had made him take so ignominiously to his heels this
+morning. He curtly told the Scot not to expect him.
+
+"Is SHE not coming?" gasped the Scot, with quick suspicion.
+
+"Oh," said the Duke, turning on his heel, "she doesn't know that I
+shan't be there. You may count on her." This he took to be the very
+truth, and he was glad to have made of it a thrust at the man who had
+so uncouthly asserted himself last night. He could not help smiling,
+though, at this little resentment erect after the cataclysm that had
+swept away all else. Then he smiled to think how uneasy Zuleika would
+be at his absence. What agonies of suspense she must have had all this
+morning! He imagined her silent at the luncheon, with a vacant gaze at
+the door, eating nothing at all. And he became aware that he was rather
+hungry. He had done all he could to save young Oxford. Now for some
+sandwiches! He went into the Junta.
+
+As he rang the dining-room bell, his eyes rested on the miniature of
+Nellie O'Mora. And the eyes of Nellie O'Mora seemed to meet his in
+reproach. Just as she may have gazed at Greddon when he cast her off,
+so now did she gaze at him who a few hours ago had refused to honour her
+memory.
+
+Yes, and many other eyes than hers rebuked him. It was around the walls
+of this room that hung those presentments of the Junta as focussed,
+year after year, in a certain corner of Tom Quad, by Messrs. Hills and
+Saunders. All around, the members of the little hierarchy, a hierarchy
+ever changing in all but youth and a certain sternness of aspect that
+comes at the moment of being immortalised, were gazing forth now with a
+sternness beyond their wont. Not one of them but had in his day handed
+on loyally the praise of Nellie O'Mora, in the form their Founder had
+ordained. And the Duke's revolt last night had so incensed them that
+they would, if they could, have come down from their frames and walked
+straight out of the club, in chronological order--first, the men of
+the 'sixties, almost as near in time to Greddon as to the Duke, all
+so gloriously be-whiskered and cravated, but how faded now, alas, by
+exposure; and last of all in the procession and angrier perhaps than any
+of them, the Duke himself--the Duke of a year ago, President and sole
+Member.
+
+But, as he gazed into the eyes of Nellie O'Mora now, Dorset needed not
+for penitence the reproaches of his past self or of his forerunners.
+"Sweet girl," he murmured, "forgive me. I was mad. I was under the
+sway of a deplorable infatuation. It is past. See," he murmured with a
+delicacy of feeling that justified the untruth, "I am come here for the
+express purpose of undoing my impiety." And, turning to the club-waiter
+who at this moment answered the bell, he said "Bring me a glass of port,
+please, Barrett." Of sandwiches he said nothing.
+
+At the word "See" he had stretched one hand towards Nellie; the other
+he had laid on his heart, where it seemed to encounter some sort of hard
+obstruction. This he vaguely fingered, wondering what it might be, while
+he gave his order to Barrett. With a sudden cry he dipped his hand into
+his breast-pocket and drew forth the bottle he had borne away from
+Mr. Druce's. He snatched out his watch: one o'clock!--fifteen minutes
+overdue. Wildly he called the waiter back. "A tea-spoon, quick! No
+port. A wine-glass and a tea-spoon. And--for I don't mind telling you,
+Barrett, that your mission is of an urgency beyond conjecture--take
+lightning for your model. Go!"
+
+Agitation mastered him. He tried vainly to feel his pulse, well knowing
+that if he found it he could deduce nothing from its action. He saw
+himself haggard in the looking-glass. Would Barrett never come? "Every
+two hours"--the directions were explicit. Had he delivered himself into
+the gods' hands? The eyes of Nellie O'Mora were on him compassionately;
+and all the eyes of his forerunners were on him in austere scorn: "See,"
+they seemed to be saying, "the chastisement of last night's blasphemy."
+Violently, insistently, he rang the bell.
+
+In rushed Barrett at last. From the tea-spoon into the wine-glass the
+Duke poured the draught of salvation, and then, raising it aloft, he
+looked around at his fore-runners and in a firm voice cried "Gentlemen,
+I give you Nellie O'Mora, the fairest witch that ever was or will be."
+He drained his glass, heaved the deep sigh of a double satisfaction,
+dismissed with a glance the wondering Barrett, and sat down.
+
+He was glad to be able to face Nellie with a clear conscience. Her eyes
+were not less sad now, but it seemed to him that their sadness came of a
+knowledge that she would never see him again. She seemed to be saying
+to him "Had you lived in my day, it is you that I would have loved, not
+Greddon." And he made silent answer, "Had you lived in my day, I should
+have been Dobson-proof." He realised, however, that to Zuleika he owed
+the tenderness he now felt for Miss O'Mora. It was Zuleika that had
+cured him of his aseity. She it was that had made his heart a warm and
+negotiable thing. Yes, and that was the final cruelty. To love and be
+loved--this, he had come to know, was all that mattered. Yesterday, to
+love and die had seemed felicity enough. Now he knew that the secret,
+the open secret, of happiness was in mutual love--a state that needed
+not the fillip of death. And he had to die without having ever lived.
+Admiration, homage, fear, he had sown broadcast. The one woman who had
+loved him had turned to stone because he loved her. Death would lose
+much of its sting for him if there were somewhere in the world just one
+woman, however lowly, whose heart would be broken by his dying. What a
+pity Nellie O'Mora was not really extant!
+
+Suddenly he recalled certain words lightly spoken yesterday by Zuleika.
+She had told him he was loved by the girl who waited on him--the
+daughter of his landlady. Was this so? He had seen no sign of it, had
+received no token of it. But, after all, how should he have seen a sign
+of anything in one whom he had never consciously visualised? That she
+had never thrust herself on his notice might mean merely that she had
+been well brought-up. What likelier than that the daughter of Mrs.
+Batch, that worthy soul, had been well brought up?
+
+Here, at any rate, was the chance of a new element in his life, or
+rather in his death. Here, possibly, was a maiden to mourn him. He would
+lunch in his rooms.
+
+With a farewell look at Nellie's miniature, he took the medicine-bottle
+from the table, and went quickly out. The heavens had grown steadily
+darker and darker, the air more sulphurous and baleful. And the High had
+a strangely woebegone look, being all forsaken by youth, in this hour of
+luncheon. Even so would its look be all to-morrow, thought the Duke,
+and for many morrows. Well he had done what he could. He was free now to
+brighten a little his own last hours. He hastened on, eager to see the
+landlady's daughter. He wondered what she was like, and whether she
+really loved him.
+
+As he threw open the door of his sitting-room, he was aware of a rustle,
+a rush, a cry. In another instant, he was aware of Zuleika Dobson at his
+feet, at his knees, clasping him to her, sobbing, laughing, sobbing.
+
+
+
+
+XVI
+
+For what happened a few moments later you must not blame him. Some
+measure of force was the only way out of an impossible situation. It was
+in vain that he commanded the young lady to let go: she did but cling
+the closer. It was in vain that he tried to disentangle himself of her
+by standing first on one foot, then on the other, and veering sharply on
+his heel: she did but sway as though hinged to him. He had no choice but
+to grasp her by the wrists, cast her aside, and step clear of her into
+the room.
+
+Her hat, gauzily basking with a pair of long white gloves on one of his
+arm-chairs, proclaimed that she had come to stay.
+
+Nor did she rise. Propped on one elbow, with heaving bosom and parted
+lips, she seemed to be trying to realise what had been done to her.
+Through her undried tears her eyes shone up to him.
+
+He asked: "To what am I indebted for this visit?"
+
+"Ah, say that again!" she murmured. "Your voice is music."
+
+He repeated his question.
+
+"Music!" she said dreamily; and such is the force of habit that "I
+don't," she added, "know anything about music, really. But I know what I
+like."
+
+"Had you not better get up from the floor?" he said. "The door is open,
+and any one who passed might see you."
+
+Softly she stroked the carpet with the palms of her hands. "Happy
+carpet!" she crooned. "Aye, happy the very women that wove the threads
+that are trod by the feet of my beloved master. But hark! he bids his
+slave rise and stand before him!"
+
+Just after she had risen, a figure appeared in the doorway.
+
+"I beg pardon, your Grace; Mother wants to know, will you be lunching
+in?"
+
+"Yes," said the Duke. "I will ring when I am ready." And it dawned on
+him that this girl, who perhaps loved him, was, according to all known
+standards, extraordinarily pretty.
+
+"Will--" she hesitated, "will Miss Dobson be--"
+
+"No," he said. "I shall be alone." And there was in the girl's parting
+half-glance at Zuleika that which told him he was truly loved, and made
+him the more impatient of his offensive and accursed visitor.
+
+"You want to be rid of me?" asked Zuleika, when the girl was gone.
+
+"I have no wish to be rude; but--since you force me to say it--yes."
+
+"Then take me," she cried, throwing back her arms, "and throw me out of
+the window."
+
+He smiled coldly.
+
+"You think I don't mean it? You think I would struggle? Try me." She let
+herself droop sideways, in an attitude limp and portable. "Try me," she
+repeated.
+
+"All this is very well conceived, no doubt," said he, "and well
+executed. But it happens to be otiose."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"I mean you may set your mind at rest. I am not going to back out of my
+promise."
+
+Zuleika flushed. "You are cruel. I would give the world and all not to
+have written you that hateful letter. Forget it, forget it, for pity's
+sake!"
+
+The Duke looked searchingly at her. "You mean that you now wish to
+release me from my promise?"
+
+"Release you? As if you were ever bound! Don't torture me!"
+
+He wondered what deep game she was playing. Very real, though, her
+anguish seemed; and, if real it was, then--he stared, he gasped--there
+could be but one explanation. He put it to her. "You love me?"
+
+"With all my soul."
+
+His heart leapt. If she spoke truth, then indeed vengeance was his! But
+"What proof have I?" he asked her.
+
+"Proof? Have men absolutely NO intuition? If you need proof, produce it.
+Where are my ear-rings?"
+
+"Your ear-rings? Why?"
+
+Impatiently she pointed to two white pearls that fastened the front
+of her blouse. "These are your studs. It was from them I had the great
+first hint this morning."
+
+"Black and pink, were they not, when you took them?"
+
+"Of course. And then I forgot that I had them. When I undressed, they
+must have rolled on to the carpet. Melisande found them this morning
+when she was making the room ready for me to dress. That was just after
+she came back from bringing you my first letter. I was bewildered. I
+doubted. Might not the pearls have gone back to their natural state
+simply through being yours no more? That is why I wrote again to you, my
+own darling--a frantic little questioning letter. When I heard how you
+had torn it up, I knew, I knew that the pearls had not mocked me. I
+telescoped my toilet and came rushing round to you. How many hours have
+I been waiting for you?"
+
+The Duke had drawn her ear-rings from his waistcoat pocket, and was
+contemplating them in the palm of his hand. Blanched, both of them, yes.
+He laid them on the table. "Take them," he said.
+
+"No," she shuddered. "I could never forget that once they were both
+black." She flung them into the fender. "Oh John," she cried, turning to
+him and falling again to her knees, "I do so want to forget what I have
+been. I want to atone. You think you can drive me out of your life. You
+cannot, darling--since you won't kill me. Always I shall follow you on
+my knees, thus."
+
+He looked down at her over his folded arms,
+
+"I am not going to back out of my promise," he repeated.
+
+She stopped her ears.
+
+With a stern joy he unfolded his arms, took some papers from his
+breast-pocket, and, selecting one of them, handed it to her. It was the
+telegram sent by his steward.
+
+She read it. With a stern joy he watched her reading it.
+
+Wild-eyed, she looked up from it to him, tried to speak, and swerved
+down senseless.
+
+He had not foreseen this. "Help!" he vaguely cried--was she not a
+fellow-creature?--and rushed blindly out to his bedroom, whence he
+returned, a moment later, with the water-jug. He dipped his hand, and
+sprinkled the upturned face (Dew-drops on a white rose? But some
+other, sharper analogy hovered to him). He dipped and sprinkled. The
+water-beads broke, mingled--rivulets now. He dipped and flung, then
+caught the horrible analogy and rebounded.
+
+It was at this moment that Zuleika opened her eyes. "Where am I?" She
+weakly raised herself on one elbow; and the suspension of the Duke's
+hatred would have been repealed simultaneously with that of her
+consciousness, had it not already been repealed by the analogy. She put
+a hand to her face, then looked at the wet palm wonderingly, looked at
+the Duke, saw the water-jug beside him. She, too, it seemed, had caught
+the analogy; for with a wan smile she said "We are quits now, John,
+aren't we?"
+
+Her poor little jest drew to the Duke's face no answering smile, did
+but make hotter the blush there. The wave of her returning memory swept
+on--swept up to her with a roar the instant past. "Oh," she cried,
+staggering to her feet, "the owls, the owls!"
+
+Vengeance was his, and "Yes, there," he said, "is the ineluctable hard
+fact you wake to. The owls have hooted. The gods have spoken. This day
+your wish is to be fulfilled."
+
+"The owls have hooted. The gods have spoken. This day--oh, it must not
+be, John! Heaven have mercy on me!"
+
+"The unerring owls have hooted. The dispiteous and humorous gods have
+spoken. Miss Dobson, it has to be. And let me remind you," he added,
+with a glance at his watch, "that you ought not to keep The MacQuern
+waiting for luncheon."
+
+"That is unworthy of you," she said. There was in her eyes a look that
+made the words sound as if they had been spoken by a dumb animal.
+
+"You have sent him an excuse?"
+
+"No, I have forgotten him."
+
+"That is unworthy of you. After all, he is going to die for you, like
+the rest of us. I am but one of a number, you know. Use your sense of
+proportion."
+
+"If I do that," she said after a pause, "you may not be pleased by the
+issue. I may find that whereas yesterday I was great in my sinfulness,
+and to-day am great in my love, you, in your hate of me, are small. I
+may find that what I had taken to be a great indifference is nothing but
+a very small hate... Ah, I have wounded you? Forgive me, a weak woman,
+talking at random in her wretchedness. Oh John, John, if I thought you
+small, my love would but take on the crown of pity. Don't forbid me to
+call you John. I looked you up in Debrett while I was waiting for you.
+That seemed to bring you nearer to me. So many other names you have,
+too. I remember you told me them all yesterday, here in this room--not
+twenty-four hours ago. Hours? Years!" She laughed hysterically. "John,
+don't you see why I won't stop talking? It's because I dare not think."
+
+"Yonder in Balliol," he suavely said, "you will find the matter of my
+death easier to forget than here." He took her hat and gloves from the
+arm-chair, and held them carefully out to her; but she did not take
+them.
+
+"I give you three minutes," he told her. "Two minutes, that is, in
+which to make yourself tidy before the mirror. A third in which to say
+good-bye and be outside the front-door."
+
+"If I refuse?"
+
+"You will not."
+
+"If I do?"
+
+"I shall send for a policeman."
+
+She looked well at him. "Yes," she slowly said, "I think you would do
+that."
+
+She took her things from him, and laid them by the mirror. With a high
+hand she quelled the excesses of her hair--some of the curls still
+agleam with water--and knowingly poised and pinned her hat. Then, after
+a few swift touches and passes at neck and waist, she took her gloves
+and, wheeling round to him, "There!" she said, "I have been quick."
+
+"Admirably," he allowed.
+
+"Quick in more than meets the eye, John. Spiritually quick. You saw me
+putting on my hat; you did not see love taking on the crown of pity, and
+me bonneting her with it, tripping her up and trampling the life out of
+her. Oh, a most cold-blooded business, John! Had to be done, though. No
+other way out. So I just used my sense of proportion, as you rashly
+bade me, and then hardened my heart at sight of you as you are. One of
+a number? Yes, and a quite unlovable unit. So I am all right again. And
+now, where is Balliol? Far from here?"
+
+"No," he answered, choking a little, as might a card-player who, having
+been dealt a splendid hand, and having played it with flawless skill,
+has yet--damn it!--lost the odd trick. "Balliol is quite near. At the
+end of this street in fact. I can show it to you from the front-door."
+
+Yes, he had controlled himself. But this, he furiously felt, did not
+make him look the less a fool. What ought he to have SAID? He prayed,
+as he followed the victorious young woman downstairs, that l'esprit de
+l'escalier might befall him. Alas, it did not.
+
+"By the way," she said, when he had shown her where Balliol lay, "have
+you told anybody that you aren't dying just for me?"
+
+"No," he answered, "I have preferred not to."
+
+"Then officially, as it were, and in the eyes of the world, you die for
+me? Then all's well that ends well. Shall we say good-bye here? I
+shall be on the Judas Barge; but I suppose there will be a crush, as
+yesterday?"
+
+"Sure to be. There always is on the last night of the Eights, you know.
+Good-bye."
+
+"Good-bye, little John--small John," she cried across her shoulder,
+having the last word.
+
+
+
+
+XVII
+
+He might not have grudged her the last word, had she properly needed
+it. Its utter superfluity--the perfection of her victory without it--was
+what galled him. Yes, she had outflanked him, taken him unawares, and he
+had fired not one shot. Esprit de l'escalier--it was as he went upstairs
+that he saw how he might yet have snatched from her, if not the victory,
+the palm. Of course he ought to have laughed aloud--"Capital, capital!
+You really do deserve to fool me. But ah, yours is a love that can't be
+dissembled. Never was man by maiden loved more ardently than I by you,
+my poor girl, at this moment."
+
+And stay!--what if she really HAD been but pretending to have killed her
+love? He paused on the threshold of his room. The sudden doubt made his
+lost chance the more sickening. Yet was the doubt dear to him ... What
+likelier, after all, than that she had been pretending? She had already
+twitted him with his lack of intuition. He had not seen that she
+loved him when she certainly did love him. He had needed the pearls'
+demonstration of that.--The pearls! THEY would betray her. He darted to
+the fender, and one of them he espied there instantly--white? A rather
+flushed white, certainly. For the other he had to peer down. There it
+lay, not very distinct on the hearth's black-leading.
+
+He turned away. He blamed himself for not dismissing from his mind the
+hussy he had dismissed from his room. Oh for an ounce of civet and a
+few poppies! The water-jug stood as a reminder of the hateful visit
+and of... He took it hastily away into his bedroom. There he washed
+his hands. The fact that he had touched Zuleika gave to this ablution a
+symbolism that made it the more refreshing.
+
+Civet, poppies? Was there not, at his call, a sweeter perfume, a
+stronger anodyne? He rang the bell, almost caressingly.
+
+His heart beat at sound of the clinking and rattling of the tray borne
+up the stairs. She was coming, the girl who loved him, the girl whose
+heart would be broken when he died. Yet, when the tray appeared in the
+doorway, and she behind it, the tray took precedence of her in his soul
+not less than in his sight. Twice, after an arduous morning, had his
+luncheon been postponed, and the coming of it now made intolerable the
+pangs of his hunger.
+
+Also, while the girl laid the table-cloth, it occurred to him how
+flimsy, after all, was the evidence that she loved him. Suppose she
+did nothing of the kind! At the Junta, he had foreseen no difficulty in
+asking her. Now he found himself a prey to embarrassment. He wondered
+why. He had not failed in flow of gracious words to Nellie O'Mora. Well,
+a miniature by Hoppner was one thing, a landlady's live daughter was
+another. At any rate, he must prime himself with food. He wished Mrs.
+Batch had sent up something more calorific than cold salmon. He asked
+her daughter what was to follow.
+
+"There's a pigeon-pie, your Grace."
+
+"Cold? Then please ask your mother to heat it in the oven--quickly.
+Anything after that?"
+
+"A custard pudding, your Grace."
+
+"Cold? Let this, too, be heated. And bring up a bottle of champagne,
+please; and--and a bottle of port."
+
+His was a head that had always hitherto defied the grape. But he thought
+that to-day, by all he had gone through, by all the shocks he had
+suffered, and the strains he had steeled himself to bear, as well as by
+the actual malady that gripped him, he might perchance have been sapped
+enough to experience by reaction that cordial glow of which he had now
+and again seen symptoms in his fellows.
+
+Nor was he altogether disappointed of this hope. As the meal progressed,
+and the last of the champagne sparkled in his glass, certain things
+said to him by Zuleika--certain implied criticisms that had rankled,
+yes--lost their power to discommode him. He was able to smile at the
+impertinences of an angry woman, the tantrums of a tenth-rate conjurer
+told to go away. He felt he had perhaps acted harshly. With all her
+faults, she had adored him. Yes, he had been arbitrary. There seemed to
+be a strain of brutality in his nature. Poor Zuleika! He was glad for
+her that she had contrived to master her infatuation... Enough for him
+that he was loved by this exquisite meek girl who had served him at the
+feast. Anon, when he summoned her to clear the things away, he would bid
+her tell him the tale of her lowly passion. He poured a second glass
+of port, sipped it, quaffed it, poured a third. The grey gloom of the
+weather did but, as he eyed the bottle, heighten his sense of the rich
+sunshine so long ago imprisoned by the vintner and now released to make
+glad his soul. Even so to be released was the love pent for him in the
+heart of this sweet girl. Would that he loved her in return!... Why not?
+
+
+                             "Prius insolentem
+                    Serva Briseis niveo colore
+                          Movit Achillem."
+
+
+Nor were it gracious to invite an avowal of love and offer none in
+return. Yet, yet, expansive though his mood was, he could not pretend to
+himself that he was about to feel in this girl's presence anything but
+gratitude. He might pretend to her? Deception were a very poor return
+indeed for all her kindness. Besides, it might turn her head. Some small
+token of his gratitude--some trinket by which to remember him--was all
+that he could allow himself to offer... What trinket? Would she like
+to have one of his scarf-pins? Studs? Still more abs--Ah! he had it, he
+literally and most providentially had it, there, in the fender: a pair
+of ear-rings!
+
+He plucked the pink pearl and the black from where they lay, and rang
+the bell.
+
+His sense of dramatic propriety needed that the girl should, before he
+addressed her, perform her task of clearing the table. If she had it
+to perform after telling her love, and after receiving his gift and his
+farewell, the bathos would be distressing for them both.
+
+But, while he watched her at her task, he did wish she would be a little
+quicker. For the glow in him seemed to be cooling momently. He wished
+he had had more than three glasses from the crusted bottle which she was
+putting away into the chiffonier. Down, doubt! Down, sense of disparity!
+The moment was at hand. Would he let it slip? Now she was folding up the
+table-cloth, now she was going.
+
+"Stay!" he uttered. "I have something to say to you." The girl turned to
+him.
+
+He forced his eyes to meet hers. "I understand," he said in a
+constrained voice, "that you regard me with sentiments of something more
+than esteem.--Is this so?"
+
+The girl had stepped quickly back, and her face was scarlet.
+
+"Nay," he said, having to go through with it now, "there is no cause for
+embarrassment. And I am sure you will acquit me of wanton curiosity. Is
+it a fact that you--love me?"
+
+She tried to speak, could not. But she nodded her head.
+
+The Duke, much relieved, came nearer to her.
+
+"What is your name?" he asked gently.
+
+"Katie," she was able to gasp.
+
+"Well, Katie, how long have you loved me?"
+
+"Ever since," she faltered, "ever since you came to engage the rooms."
+
+"You are not, of course, given to idolising any tenant of your
+mother's?"
+
+"No."
+
+"May I boast myself the first possessor of your heart?"
+
+"Yes." She had become very pale now, and was trembling painfully.
+
+"And may I assume that your love for me has been entirely
+disinterested?... You do not catch my meaning? I will put my question in
+another way. In loving me, you never supposed me likely to return your
+love?"
+
+The girl looked up at him quickly, but at once her eyelids fluttered
+down again.
+
+"Come, come!" said the Duke. "My question is a plain one. Did you ever
+for an instant suppose, Katie, that I might come to love you?"
+
+"No," she said in a whisper; "I never dared to hope that."
+
+"Precisely," said he. "You never imagined that you had anything to
+gain by your affection. You were not contriving a trap for me. You were
+upheld by no hope of becoming a young Duchess, with more frocks than
+you could wear and more dross than you could scatter. I am glad. I
+am touched. You are the first woman that has loved me in that way. Or
+rather," he muttered, "the first but one. And she... Answer me," he
+said, standing over the girl, and speaking with a great intensity. "If I
+were to tell you that I loved you, would you cease to love me?"
+
+"Oh your Grace!" cried the girl. "Why no! I never dared--"
+
+"Enough!" he said. "The catechism is ended. I have something which I
+should like to give you. Are your ears pierced?"
+
+"Yes, your Grace."
+
+"Then, Katie, honour me by accepting this present." So saying, he placed
+in the girl's hand the black pearl and the pink. The sight of them
+banished for a moment all other emotions in their recipient. She forgot
+herself. "Lor!" she said.
+
+"I hope you will wear them always for my sake," said the Duke.
+
+She had expressed herself in the monosyllable. No words came to her
+lips, but to her eyes many tears, through which the pearls were
+visible. They whirled in her bewildered brain as a token that she was
+loved--loved by HIM, though but yesterday he had loved another. It was
+all so sudden, so beautiful. You might have knocked her down (she says
+so to this day) with a feather. Seeing her agitation, the Duke pointed
+to a chair, bade her be seated.
+
+Her mind was cleared by the new posture. Suspicion crept into it,
+followed by alarm. She looked at the ear-rings, then up at the Duke.
+
+"No," said he, misinterpreting the question in her eyes, "they are real
+pearls."
+
+"It isn't that," she quavered, "it is--it is--"
+
+"That they were given to me by Miss Dobson?"
+
+"Oh, they were, were they? Then"--Katie rose, throwing the pearls on the
+floor--"I'll have nothing to do with them. I hate her."
+
+"So do I," said the Duke, in a burst of confidence. "No, I don't," he
+added hastily. "Please forget that I said that."
+
+It occurred to Katie that Miss Dobson would be ill-pleased that the
+pearls should pass to her. She picked them up.
+
+"Only--only--" again her doubts beset her and she looked from the pearls
+to the Duke.
+
+"Speak on," he said.
+
+"Oh you aren't playing with me, are you? You don't mean me harm, do you?
+I have been well brought up. I have been warned against things. And it
+seems so strange, what you have said to me. You are a Duke, and I--I am
+only--"
+
+"It is the privilege of nobility to condescend."
+
+"Yes, yes," she cried. "I see. Oh I was wicked to doubt you. And love
+levels all, doesn't it? love and the Board school. Our stations are far
+apart, but I've been educated far above mine. I've learnt more than most
+real ladies have. I passed the Seventh Standard when I was only just
+fourteen. I was considered one of the sharpest girls in the school. And
+I've gone on learning since then," she continued eagerly. "I utilise all
+my spare moments. I've read twenty-seven of the Hundred Best Books. I
+collect ferns. I play the piano, whenever..." She broke off, for she
+remembered that her music was always interrupted by the ringing of the
+Duke's bell and a polite request that it should cease.
+
+"I am glad to hear of these accomplishments. They do you great credit, I
+am sure. But--well, I do not quite see why you enumerate them just now."
+
+"It isn't that I am vain," she pleaded. "I only mentioned them because
+... oh, don't you see? If I'm not ignorant, I shan't disgrace you.
+People won't be so able to say you've been and thrown yourself away."
+
+"Thrown myself away? What do you mean?"
+
+"Oh, they'll make all sorts of objections, I know. They'll all be
+against me, and--"
+
+"For heaven's sake, explain yourself."
+
+"Your aunt, she looked a very proud lady--very high and hard. I thought
+so when she came here last term. But you're of age. You're your own
+master. Oh, I trust you; you'll stand by me. If you love me really you
+won't listen to them."
+
+"Love you? I? Are you mad?"
+
+Each stared at the other, utterly bewildered.
+
+The girl was the first to break the silence. Her voice came in a
+whisper. "You've not been playing a joke on me? You meant what you said,
+didn't you?"
+
+"What have I said?"
+
+"You said you loved me."
+
+"You must be dreaming."
+
+"I'm not. Here are the ear-rings you gave me." She pinched them as
+material proof. "You said you loved me just before you gave me them.
+You know you did. And if I thought you'd been laughing at me all the
+time--I'd--I'd"--a sob choked her voice--"I'd throw them in your face!"
+
+"You must not speak to me in that manner," said the Duke coldly. "And
+let me warn you that this attempt to trap me and intimidate me--"
+
+The girl had flung the ear-rings at his face. She had missed her mark.
+But this did not extenuate the outrageous gesture. He pointed to the
+door. "Go!" he said.
+
+"Don't try that on!" she laughed. "I shan't go--not unless you drag
+me out. And if you do that, I'll raise the house. I'll have in the
+neighbours. I'll tell them all what you've done, and--" But defiance
+melted in the hot shame of humiliation. "Oh, you coward!" she gasped.
+"You coward!" She caught her apron to her face and, swaying against the
+wall, sobbed piteously.
+
+Unaccustomed to love-affairs, the Duke could not sail lightly over a
+flood of woman's tears. He was filled with pity for the poor quivering
+figure against the wall. How should he soothe her? Mechanically he
+picked up the two pearls from the carpet, and crossed to her side. He
+touched her on the shoulder. She shuddered away from him.
+
+"Don't," he said gently. "Don't cry. I can't bear it. I have been stupid
+and thoughtless. What did you say your name was? 'Katie,' to be sure.
+Well, Katie, I want to beg your pardon. I expressed myself badly. I was
+unhappy and lonely, and I saw in you a means of comfort. I snatched
+at you, Katie, as at a straw. And then, I suppose, I must have said
+something which made you think I loved you. I almost wish I did. I don't
+wonder you threw the ear-rings at me. I--I almost wish they had hit
+me... You see, I have quite forgiven you. Now do you forgive me. You
+will not refuse now to wear the ear-rings. I gave them to you as a
+keepsake. Wear them always in memory of me. For you will never see me
+again."
+
+The girl had ceased from crying, and her anger had spent itself in sobs.
+She was gazing at him woebegone but composed.
+
+"Where are you going?"
+
+"You must not ask that," said he. "Enough that my wings are spread."
+
+"Are you going because of ME?"
+
+"Not in the least. Indeed, your devotion is one of the things which make
+bitter my departure. And yet--I am glad you love me."
+
+"Don't go," she faltered. He came nearer to her, and this time she did
+not shrink from him. "Don't you find the rooms comfortable?" she asked,
+gazing up at him. "Have you ever had any complaint to make about the
+attendance?"
+
+"No," said the Duke, "the attendance has always been quite satisfactory.
+I have never felt that so keenly as I do to-day."
+
+"Then why are you leaving? Why are you breaking my heart?"
+
+"Suffice it that I cannot do otherwise. Henceforth you will see me no
+more. But I doubt not that in the cultivation of my memory you will find
+some sort of lugubrious satisfaction. See! here are the ear-rings. If
+you like, I will put them in with my own hands."
+
+She held up her face side-ways. Into the lobe of her left ear he
+insinuated the hook of the black pearl. On the cheek upturned to him
+there were still traces of tears; the eyelashes were still spangled. For
+all her blondness, they were quite dark, these glistening eyelashes. He
+had an impulse, which he put from him. "Now the other ear," he said. The
+girl turned her head. Soon the pink pearl was in its place. Yet the girl
+did not move. She seemed to be waiting. Nor did the Duke himself seem to
+be quite satisfied. He let his fingers dally with the pearl. Anon, with
+a sigh, he withdrew them. The girl looked up. Their eyes met. He looked
+away from her. He turned away from her. "You may kiss my hand," he
+murmured, extending it towards her. After a pause, the warm pressure
+of her lips was laid on it. He sighed, but did not look round. Another
+pause, a longer pause, and then the clatter and clink of the outgoing
+tray.
+
+
+
+
+XVIII
+
+Her actual offspring does not suffice a very motherly woman. Such a
+woman was Mrs. Batch. Had she been blest with a dozen children, she
+must yet have regarded herself as also a mother to whatever two young
+gentlemen were lodging under her roof. Childless but for Katie and
+Clarence, she had for her successive pairs of tenants a truly vast fund
+of maternal feeling to draw on. Nor were the drafts made in secret. To
+every gentleman, from the outset, she proclaimed the relation in which
+she would stand to him. Moreover, always she needed a strong filial
+sense in return: this was only fair.
+
+Because the Duke was an orphan, even more than because he was a Duke,
+her heart had with a special rush gone out to him when he and Mr. Noaks
+became her tenants. But, perhaps because he had never known a mother,
+he was evidently quite incapable of conceiving either Mrs. Batch as his
+mother or himself as her son. Indeed, there was that in his manner,
+in his look, which made her falter, for once, in exposition of her
+theory--made her postpone the matter to some more favourable time. That
+time never came, somehow. Still, her solicitude for him, her pride in
+him, her sense that he was a great credit to her, rather waxed than
+waned. He was more to her (such are the vagaries of the maternal
+instinct) than Katie or Mr. Noaks: he was as much as Clarence.
+
+It was, therefore, a deeply agitated woman who now came heaving up into
+the Duke's presence. His Grace was "giving notice"? She was sure she
+begged his pardon for coming up so sudden. But the news was that
+sudden. Hadn't her girl made a mistake, maybe? Girls were so vague-like
+nowadays. She was sure it was most kind of him to give those handsome
+ear-rings. But the thought of him going off so unexpected--middle of
+term, too--with never a why or a but! Well!
+
+In some such welter of homely phrase (how foreign to these classic
+pages!) did Mrs. Batch utter her pain. The Duke answered her tersely but
+kindly. He apologised for going so abruptly, and said he would be very
+happy to write for her future use a testimonial to the excellence of
+her rooms and of her cooking; and with it he would give her a cheque not
+only for the full term's rent, and for his board since the beginning of
+term, but also for such board as he would have been likely to have in
+the term's remainder. He asked her to present her accounts forthwith.
+
+He occupied the few minutes of her absence by writing the testimonial.
+It had shaped itself in his mind as a short ode in Doric Greek. But, for
+the benefit of Mrs. Batch, he chose to do a rough equivalent in English.
+
+
+     TO AN UNDERGRADUATE NEEDING
+     ROOMS IN OXFORD
+
+     (A Sonnet in Oxfordshire Dialect)
+
+     Zeek w'ere thee will in t'Univursity,
+     Lad, thee'll not vind nor bread nor bed that
+          matches
+     Them as thee'll vind, roight zure, at Mrs.
+          Batch's...
+
+
+I do not quote the poem in extenso, because, frankly, I think it was one
+of his least happily-inspired works. His was not a Muse that could with
+a good grace doff the grand manner. Also, his command of the Oxfordshire
+dialect seems to me based less on study than on conjecture. In fact, I
+do not place the poem higher than among the curiosities of literature.
+It has extrinsic value, however, as illustrating the Duke's
+thoughtfulness for others in the last hours of his life. And to Mrs.
+Batch the MS., framed and glazed in her hall, is an asset beyond price
+(witness her recent refusal of Mr. Pierpont Morgan's sensational bid for
+it).
+
+This MS. she received together with the Duke's cheque. The presentation
+was made some twenty minutes after she had laid her accounts before him.
+
+Lavish in giving large sums of his own accord, he was apt to be
+circumspect in the matter of small payments. Such is ever the way of
+opulent men. Nor do I see that we have a right to sneer at them for it.
+We cannot deny that their existence is a temptation to us. It is in our
+fallen nature to want to get something out of them; and, as we think in
+small sums (heaven knows), it is of small sums that they are careful.
+Absurd to suppose they really care about halfpence. It must, therefore,
+be about us that they care; and we ought to be grateful to them for the
+pains they are at to keep us guiltless. I do not suggest that Mrs. Batch
+had at any point overcharged the Duke; but how was he to know that she
+had not done so, except by checking the items, as was his wont? The
+reductions that he made, here and there, did not in all amount to
+three-and-sixpence. I do not say they were just. But I do say that his
+motive for making them, and his satisfaction at having made them, were
+rather beautiful than otherwise.
+
+Having struck an average of Mrs. Batch's weekly charges, and a similar
+average of his own reductions, he had a basis on which to reckon his
+board for the rest of the term. This amount he added to Mrs. Batch's
+amended total, plus the full term's rent, and accordingly drew a cheque
+on the local bank where he had an account. Mrs. Batch said she would
+bring up a stamped receipt directly; but this the Duke waived,
+saying that the cashed cheque itself would be a sufficient receipt.
+Accordingly, he reduced by one penny the amount written on the cheque.
+Remembering to initial the correction, he remembered also, with a
+melancholy smile, that to-morrow the cheque would not be negotiable.
+Handing it, and the sonnet, to Mrs. Batch, he bade her cash it before
+the bank closed. "And," he said, with a glance at his watch, "you have
+no time to lose. It is a quarter to four." Only two hours and a quarter
+before the final races! How quickly the sands were running out!
+
+Mrs. Batch paused on the threshold, wanted to know if she could "help
+with the packing." The Duke replied that he was taking nothing with him:
+his various things would be sent for, packed, and removed, within a few
+days. No, he did not want her to order a cab. He was going to walk. And
+"Good-bye, Mrs. Batch," he said. "For legal reasons with which I won't
+burden you, you really must cash that cheque at once."
+
+He sat down in solitude; and there crept over him a mood of deep
+depression... Almost two hours and a quarter before the final races!
+What on earth should he do in the meantime? He seemed to have done all
+that there was for him to do. His executors would do the rest. He had no
+farewell-letters to write. He had no friends with whom he was on terms
+of valediction. There was nothing at all for him to do. He stared
+blankly out of the window, at the greyness and blackness of the sky.
+What a day! What a climate! Why did any sane person live in England? He
+felt positively suicidal.
+
+His dully vagrant eye lighted on the bottle of Cold Mixture. He ought to
+have dosed himself a full hour ago. Well, he didn't care.
+
+Had Zuleika noticed the bottle? he idly wondered. Probably not. She
+would have made some sprightly reference to it before she went.
+
+Since there was nothing to do but sit and think, he wished he could
+recapture that mood in which at luncheon he had been able to see Zuleika
+as an object for pity. Never, till to-day, had he seen things otherwise
+than they were. Nor had he ever needed to. Never, till last night, had
+there been in his life anything he needed to forget. That woman! As
+if it really mattered what she thought of him. He despised himself for
+wishing to forget she despised him. But the wish was the measure of the
+need. He eyed the chiffonier. Should he again solicit the grape?
+
+Reluctantly he uncorked the crusted bottle, and filled a glass. Was he
+come to this? He sighed and sipped, quaffed and sighed. The spell of the
+old stored sunshine seemed not to work, this time. He could not cease
+from plucking at the net of ignominies in which his soul lay enmeshed.
+Would that he had died yesterday, escaping how much!
+
+Not for an instant did he flinch from the mere fact of dying to-day.
+Since he was not immortal, as he had supposed, it were as well he should
+die now as fifty years hence. Better, indeed. To die "untimely," as men
+called it, was the timeliest of all deaths for one who had carved his
+youth to greatness. What perfection could he, Dorset, achieve beyond
+what was already his? Future years could but stale, if not actually
+mar, that perfection. Yes, it was lucky to perish leaving much to the
+imagination of posterity. Dear posterity was of a sentimental, not
+a realistic, habit. She always imagined the dead young hero prancing
+gloriously up to the Psalmist's limit a young hero still; and it was the
+sense of her vast loss that kept his memory green. Byron!--he would be
+all forgotten to-day if he had lived to be a florid old gentleman with
+iron-grey whiskers, writing very long, very able letters to "The Times"
+about the Repeal of the Corn Laws. Yes, Byron would have been that. It
+was indicated in him. He would have been an old gentleman exacerbated by
+Queen Victoria's invincible prejudice against him, her brusque refusal
+to "entertain" Lord John Russell's timid nomination of him for a post
+in the Government... Shelley would have been a poet to the last. But how
+dull, how very dull, would have been the poetry of his middle age!--a
+great unreadable mass interposed between him and us... Did Byron, mused
+the Duke, know what was to be at Missolonghi? Did he know that he was
+to die in service of the Greeks whom he despised? Byron might not have
+minded that. But what if the Greeks had told him, in so many words,
+that they despised HIM? How would he have felt then? Would he have been
+content with his potations of barley-water?... The Duke replenished his
+glass, hoping the spell might work yet.... Perhaps, had Byron not been a
+dandy--but ah, had he not been in his soul a dandy there would have
+been no Byron worth mentioning. And it was because he guarded not his
+dandyism against this and that irrelevant passion, sexual or political,
+that he cut so annoyingly incomplete a figure. He was absurd in his
+politics, vulgar in his loves. Only in himself, at the times when he
+stood haughtily aloof, was he impressive. Nature, fashioning him, had
+fashioned also a pedestal for him to stand and brood on, to pose and
+sing on. Off that pedestal he was lost.... "The idol has come sliding
+down from its pedestal"--the Duke remembered these words spoken
+yesterday by Zuleika. Yes, at the moment when he slid down, he, too, was
+lost. For him, master-dandy, the common arena was no place. What had he
+to do with love? He was an utter fool at it. Byron had at least had some
+fun out of it. What fun had HE had? Last night, he had forgotten to kiss
+Zuleika when he held her by the wrists. To-day it had been as much as he
+could do to let poor little Katie kiss his hand. Better be vulgar
+with Byron than a noodle with Dorset! he bitterly reflected... Still,
+noodledom was nearer than vulgarity to dandyism. It was a less flagrant
+lapse. And he had over Byron this further advantage: his noodledom was
+not a matter of common knowledge; whereas Byron's vulgarity had ever
+needed to be in the glare of the footlights of Europe. The world
+would say of him that he laid down his life for a woman. Deplorable
+somersault? But nothing evident save this in his whole life was
+faulty... The one other thing that might be carped at--the partisan
+speech he made in the Lords--had exquisitely justified itself by its
+result. For it was as a Knight of the Garter that he had set the perfect
+seal on his dandyism. Yes, he reflected, it was on the day when first
+he donned the most grandiose of all costumes, and wore it grandlier
+than ever yet in history had it been worn, than ever would it be worn
+hereafter, flaunting the robes with a grace unparalleled and inimitable,
+and lending, as it were, to the very insignia a glory beyond their own,
+that he once and for all fulfilled himself, doer of that which he had
+been sent into the world to do.
+
+And there floated into his mind a desire, vague at first, soon definite,
+imperious, irresistible, to see himself once more, before he died,
+indued in the fulness of his glory and his might.
+
+Nothing hindered. There was yet a whole hour before he need start for
+the river. His eyes dilated, somewhat as might those of a child about to
+"dress up" for a charade; and already, in his impatience, he had undone
+his neck-tie.
+
+One after another, he unlocked and threw open the black tin boxes,
+snatching out greedily their great good splendours of crimson and white
+and royal blue and gold. You wonder he was not appalled by the task of
+essaying unaided a toilet so extensive and so intricate? You wondered
+even when you heard that he was wont at Oxford to make without help his
+toilet of every day. Well, the true dandy is always capable of such high
+independence. He is craftsman as well as artist. And, though any unaided
+Knight but he with whom we are here concerned would belike have doddered
+hopeless in that labyrinth of hooks and buckles which underlies the
+visible glory of a Knight "arraied full and proper," Dorset threaded his
+way featly and without pause. He had mastered his first excitement. In
+his swiftness was no haste. His procedure had the ease and inevitability
+of a natural phenomenon, and was most like to the coming of a rainbow.
+
+Crimson-doubleted, blue-ribanded, white-trunk-hosed, he stooped to
+understrap his left knee with that strap of velvet round which
+sparkles the proud gay motto of the Order. He affixed to his breast the
+octoradiant star, so much larger and more lustrous than any actual star
+in heaven. Round his neck he slung that long daedal chain wherefrom St.
+George, slaying the Dragon, dangles. He bowed his shoulders to assume
+that vast mantle of blue velvet, so voluminous, so enveloping, that,
+despite the Cross of St. George blazing on it, and the shoulder-knots
+like two great white tropical flowers planted on it, we seem to know
+from it in what manner of mantle Elijah prophesied. Across his breast
+he knotted this mantle's two cords of gleaming bullion, one tassel a
+due trifle higher than its fellow. All these things being done, he moved
+away from the mirror, and drew on a pair of white kid gloves. Both of
+these being buttoned, he plucked up certain folds of his mantle into the
+hollow of his left arm, and with his right hand gave to his left hand
+that ostrich-plumed and heron-plumed hat of black velvet in which a
+Knight of the Garter is entitled to take his walks abroad. Then, with
+head erect, and measured tread, he returned to the mirror.
+
+You are thinking, I know, of Mr. Sargent's famous portrait of him.
+Forget it. Tankerton Hall is open to the public on Wednesdays. Go
+there, and in the dining-hall stand to study well Sir Thomas Lawrence's
+portrait of the eleventh Duke. Imagine a man some twenty years younger
+than he whom you there behold, but having some such features and some
+such bearing, and clad in just such robes. Sublimate the dignity of
+that bearing and of those features, and you will then have seen the
+fourteenth Duke somewhat as he stood reflected in the mirror of his
+room. Resist your impulse to pass on to the painting which hangs next
+but two to Lawrence's. It deserves, I know, all that you said about it
+when (at the very time of the events in this chronicle) it was hanging
+in Burlington House. Marvellous, I grant you, are those passes of the
+swirling brush by which the velvet of the mantle is rendered--passes so
+light and seemingly so fortuitous, yet, seen at the right distance,
+so absolute in their power to create an illusion of the actual velvet.
+Sheen of white satin and silk, glint of gold, glitter of diamonds--never
+were such things caught by surer hand obedient to more voracious eye.
+Yes, all the splendid surface of everything is there. Yet must you not
+look. The soul is not there. An expensive, very new costume is there,
+but no evocation of the high antique things it stands for; whereas by
+the Duke it was just these things that were evoked to make an aura round
+him, a warm symbolic glow sharpening the outlines of his own
+particular magnificence. Reflecting him, the mirror reflected, in due
+subordination, the history of England. There is nothing of that on Mr.
+Sargent's canvas. Obtruded instead is the astounding slickness of Mr.
+Sargent's technique: not the sitter, but the painter, is master here.
+Nay, though I hate to say it, there is in the portrayal of the Duke's
+attitude and expression a hint of something like mockery--unintentional,
+I am sure, but to a sensitive eye discernible. And--but it is clumsy of
+me to be reminding you of the very picture I would have you forget.
+
+Long stood the Duke gazing, immobile. One thing alone ruffled his deep
+inward calm. This was the thought that he must presently put off from
+him all his splendour, and be his normal self.
+
+The shadow passed from his brow. He would go forth as he was. He would
+be true to the motto he wore, and true to himself. A dandy he had lived.
+In the full pomp and radiance of his dandyism he would die.
+
+His soul rose from calm to triumph. A smile lit his face, and he held
+his head higher than ever. He had brought nothing into this world and
+could take nothing out of it? Well, what he loved best he could carry
+with him to the very end; and in death they would not be divided.
+
+The smile was still on his face as he passed out from his room. Down
+the stairs he passed, and "Oh," every stair creaked faintly, "I ought to
+have been marble!"
+
+And it did indeed seem that Mrs. Batch and Katie, who had hurried
+out into the hall, were turned to some kind of stone at sight of the
+descending apparition. A moment ago, Mrs. Batch had been hoping she
+might yet at the last speak motherly words. A hopeless mute now! A
+moment ago, Katie's eyelids had been red with much weeping. Even from
+them the colour suddenly ebbed now. Dead-white her face was between the
+black pearl and the pink. "And this is the man of whom I dared once for
+an instant hope that he loved me!"--it was thus that the Duke, quite
+correctly, interpreted her gaze.
+
+To her and to her mother he gave an inclusive bow as he swept slowly by.
+Stone was the matron, and stone the maid.
+
+Stone, too, the Emperors over the way; and the more poignantly thereby
+was the Duke a sight to anguish them, being the very incarnation of what
+themselves had erst been, or tried to be. But in this bitterness they
+did not forget their sorrow at his doom. They were in a mood to forgive
+him the one fault they had ever found in him--his indifference to their
+Katie. And now--o mirum mirorum--even this one fault was wiped out.
+
+For, stung by memory of a gibe lately cast at him by himself, the Duke
+had paused and, impulsively looking back into the hall, had beckoned
+Katie to him; and she had come (she knew not how) to him; and there,
+standing on the doorstep whose whiteness was the symbol of her love,
+he--very lightly, it is true, and on the upmost confines of the brow,
+but quite perceptibly--had kissed her.
+
+
+
+
+XIX
+
+And now he had passed under the little arch between the eighth and the
+ninth Emperor, rounded the Sheldonian, and been lost to sight of Katie,
+whom, as he was equally glad and sorry he had kissed her, he was able to
+dismiss from his mind.
+
+In the quadrangle of the Old Schools he glanced round at the familiar
+labels, blue and gold, over the iron-studded doors,--Schola Theologiae
+et Antiquae Philosophiae; Museum Arundelianum; Schola Musicae. And
+Bibliotheca Bodleiana--he paused there, to feel for the last time the
+vague thrill he had always felt at sight of the small and devious portal
+that had lured to itself, and would always lure, so many scholars from
+the ends of the earth, scholars famous and scholars obscure, scholars
+polyglot and of the most diverse bents, but none of them not stirred in
+heart somewhat on the found threshold of the treasure-house. "How
+deep, how perfect, the effect made here by refusal to make any effect
+whatsoever!" thought the Duke. Perhaps, after all... but no: one could
+lay down no general rule. He flung his mantle a little wider from his
+breast, and proceeded into Radcliffe Square.
+
+Another farewell look he gave to the old vast horse-chestnut that is
+called Bishop Heber's tree. Certainly, no: there was no general rule.
+With its towering and bulging masses of verdure tricked out all over in
+their annual finery of catkins, Bishop Heber's tree stood for the very
+type of ingenuous ostentation. And who should dare cavil? who not be
+gladdened? Yet awful, more than gladdening, was the effect that the tree
+made to-day. Strangely pale was the verdure against the black sky; and
+the multitudinous catkins had a look almost ghostly. The Duke remembered
+the legend that every one of these fair white spires of blossom is
+the spirit of some dead man who, having loved Oxford much and well, is
+suffered thus to revisit her, for a brief while, year by year. And
+it pleased him to doubt not that on one of the topmost branches, next
+Spring, his own spirit would be.
+
+"Oh, look!" cried a young lady emerging with her brother and her aunt
+through the gate of Brasenose.
+
+"For heaven's sake, Jessie, try to behave yourself," hissed her brother.
+"Aunt Mabel, for heaven's sake don't stare." He compelled the pair to
+walk on with him. "Jessie, if you look round over your shoulder...
+No, it is NOT the Vice-Chancellor. It's Dorset, of Judas--the Duke of
+Dorset... Why on earth shouldn't he?... No, it isn't odd in the least...
+No, I'm NOT losing my temper. Only, don't call me your dear boy... No,
+we will NOT walk slowly so as to let him pass us... Jessie, if you look
+round..."
+
+Poor fellow! However fond an undergraduate be of his womenfolk, at
+Oxford they keep him in a painful state of tension: at any moment they
+may somehow disgrace him. And if throughout the long day he shall have
+had the added strain of guarding them from the knowledge that he is
+about to commit suicide, a certain measure of irritability must be
+condoned.
+
+Poor Jessie and Aunt Mabel! They were destined to remember that Harold
+had been "very peculiar" all day. They had arrived in the morning, happy
+and eager despite the menace of the sky, and--well, they were destined
+to reproach themselves for having felt that Harold was "really rather
+impossible." Oh, if he had only confided in them! They could have
+reasoned with him, saved him--surely they could have saved him! When he
+told them that the "First Division" of the races was always very dull,
+and that they had much better let him go to it alone,--when he told them
+that it was always very rowdy, and that ladies were not supposed to be
+there--oh, why had they not guessed and clung to him, and kept him away
+from the river?
+
+Well, here they were, walking on Harold's either side, blind to fate,
+and only longing to look back at the gorgeous personage behind them.
+Aunt Mabel had inwardly calculated that the velvet of the mantle alone
+could not have cost less than four guineas a yard. One good look back,
+and she would be able to calculate how many yards there were... She
+followed the example of Lot's wife; and Jessie followed hers.
+
+"Very well," said Harold. "That settles it. I go alone." And he was gone
+like an arrow, across the High, down Oriel Street.
+
+The two women stood staring ruefully at each other.
+
+"Pardon me," said the Duke, with a sweep of his plumed hat. "I observe
+you are stranded; and, if I read your thoughts aright, you are impugning
+the courtesy of that young runagate. Neither of you, I am very sure, is
+as one of those ladies who in Imperial Rome took a saucy pleasure in the
+spectacle of death. Neither of you can have been warned by your escort
+that you were on the way to see him die, of his own accord, in company
+with many hundreds of other lads, myself included. Therefore, regard his
+flight from you as an act not of unkindness, but of tardy compunction.
+The hint you have had from him let me turn into a counsel. Go back, both
+of you, to the place whence you came."
+
+"Thank you SO much," said Aunt Mabel, with what she took to be great
+presence of mind. "MOST kind of you. We'll do JUST what you tell us.
+Come, Jessie dear," and she hurried her niece away with her.
+
+Something in her manner of fixing him with her eye had made the Duke
+suspect what was in her mind. Well, she would find out her mistake soon
+enough, poor woman. He desired, however, that her mistake should be made
+by no one else. He would give no more warnings.
+
+Tragic it was for him, in Merton Street, to see among the crowd
+converging to the meadows so many women, young and old, all imprescient,
+troubled by nothing but the thunder that was in the air, that was on the
+brows of their escorts. He knew not whether it was for their escorts or
+for them that he felt the greater pity; and an added load for his heart
+was the sense of his partial responsibility for what impended. But
+his lips were sealed now. Why should he not enjoy the effect he was
+creating?
+
+It was with a measured tread, as yesterday with Zuleika, that he entered
+the avenue of elms. The throng streamed past from behind him, parting
+wide, and marvelling as it streamed. Under the pall of this evil evening
+his splendour was the more inspiring. And, just as yesterday no man had
+questioned his right to be with Zuleika, so to-day there was none to
+deem him caparisoned too much. All the men felt at a glance that
+he, coming to meet death thus, did no more than the right homage to
+Zuleika--aye, and that he made them all partakers in his own glory,
+casting his great mantle over all commorients. Reverence forbade them to
+do more than glance. But the women with them were impelled by wonder to
+stare hard, uttering sharp little cries that mingled with the cawing of
+the rooks overhead. Thus did scores of men find themselves shamed like
+our friend Harold. But this, you say, was no more than a just return for
+their behaviour yesterday, when, in this very avenue, so many women were
+almost crushed to death by them in their insensate eagerness to see Miss
+Dobson.
+
+To-day by scores of women it was calculated not only that the velvet of
+the Duke's mantle could not have cost less than four guineas a yard, but
+also that there must be quite twenty-five yards of it. Some of the fair
+mathematicians had, in the course of the past fortnight, visited the
+Royal Academy and seen there Mr. Sargent's portrait of the wearer, so
+that their estimate now was but the endorsement of an estimate already
+made. Yet their impression of the Duke was above all a spiritual one.
+The nobility of his face and bearing was what most thrilled them as they
+went by; and those of them who had heard the rumour that he was in love
+with that frightfully flashy-looking creature, Zuleika Dobson, were more
+than ever sure there wasn't a word of truth in it.
+
+As he neared the end of the avenue, the Duke was conscious of a thinning
+in the procession on either side of him, and anon he was aware that not
+one undergraduate was therein. And he knew at once--did not need to look
+back to know--why this was. SHE was coming.
+
+Yes, she had come into the avenue, her magnetism speeding before her,
+insomuch that all along the way the men immediately ahead of her looked
+round, beheld her, stood aside for her. With her walked The MacQuern,
+and a little bodyguard of other blest acquaintances; and behind her
+swayed the dense mass of the disorganised procession. And now the last
+rank between her and the Duke was broken, and at the revealed vision
+of him she faltered midway in some raillery she was addressing to The
+MacQuern. Her eyes were fixed, her lips were parted, her tread had
+become stealthy. With a brusque gesture of dismissal to the men beside
+her, she darted forward, and lightly overtook the Duke just as he was
+turning towards the barges.
+
+"May I?" she whispered, smiling round into his face.
+
+His shoulder-knots just perceptibly rose.
+
+"There isn't a policeman in sight, John. You're at my mercy. No, no;
+I'm at yours. Tolerate me. You really do look quite wonderful. There, I
+won't be so impertinent as to praise you. Only let me be with you. Will
+you?"
+
+The shoulder-knots repeated their answer.
+
+"You needn't listen to me; needn't look at me--unless you care to use my
+eyes as mirrors. Only let me be seen with you. That's what I want. Not
+that your society isn't a boon in itself, John. Oh, I've been so bored
+since I left you. The MacQuern is too, too dull, and so are his friends.
+Oh, that meal with them in Balliol! As soon as I grew used to the
+thought that they were going to die for me, I simply couldn't stand
+them. Poor boys! it was as much as I could do not to tell them I wished
+them dead already. Indeed, when they brought me down for the first
+races, I did suggest that they might as well die now as later. Only they
+looked very solemn and said it couldn't possibly be done till after the
+final races. And oh, the tea with them! What have YOU been doing all the
+afternoon? Oh John, after THEM, I could almost love you again. Why can't
+one fall in love with a man's clothes? To think that all those splendid
+things you have on are going to be spoilt--all for me. Nominally for
+me, that is. It is very wonderful, John. I do appreciate it, really and
+truly, though I know you think I don't. John, if it weren't mere spite
+you feel for me--but it's no good talking about that. Come, let us be as
+cheerful as we may be. Is this the Judas house-boat?"
+
+"The Judas barge," said the Duke, irritated by a mistake which but
+yesterday had rather charmed him.
+
+As he followed his companion across the plank, there came dully from the
+hills the first low growl of the pent storm. The sound struck for him a
+strange contrast with the prattle he had perforce been listening to.
+
+"Thunder," said Zuleika over her shoulder.
+
+"Evidently," he answered.
+
+Half-way up the stairs to the roof, she looked round. "Aren't you
+coming?" she asked.
+
+He shook his head, and pointed to the raft in front of the barge. She
+quickly descended.
+
+"Forgive me," he said, "my gesture was not a summons. The raft is for
+men."
+
+"What do you want to do on it?"
+
+"To wait there till the races are over."
+
+"But--what do you mean? Aren't you coming up on to the roof at all?
+Yesterday--"
+
+"Oh, I see," said the Duke, unable to repress a smile. "But to-day I am
+not dressed for a flying-leap."
+
+Zuleika put a finger to her lips. "Don't talk so loud. Those women up
+there will hear you. No one must ever know I knew what was going to
+happen. What evidence should I have that I tried to prevent it? Only my
+own unsupported word--and the world is always against a woman. So do be
+careful. I've thought it all out. The whole thing must be SPRUNG on me.
+Don't look so horribly cynical... What was I saying? Oh yes; well, it
+doesn't really matter. I had it fixed in my mind that you--but no, of
+course, in that mantle you couldn't. But why not come up on the roof
+with me meanwhile, and then afterwards make some excuse and--" The rest
+of her whisper was lost in another growl of thunder.
+
+"I would rather make my excuses forthwith," said the Duke. "And, as the
+races must be almost due now, I advise you to go straight up and secure
+a place against the railing."
+
+"It will look very odd, my going all alone into a crowd of people whom I
+don't know. I'm an unmarried girl. I do think you might--"
+
+"Good-bye," said the Duke.
+
+Again Zuleika raised a warning finger.
+
+"Good-bye, John," she whispered. "See, I am still wearing your studs.
+Good-bye. Don't forget to call my name in a loud voice. You promised."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And," she added, after a pause, "remember this. I have loved but twice
+in my life; and none but you have I loved. This, too: if you hadn't
+forced me to kill my love, I would have died with you. And you know it
+is true."
+
+"Yes." It was true enough.
+
+Courteously he watched her up the stairs.
+
+As she reached the roof, she cried down to him from the throng, "Then
+you will wait down there to take me home afterwards?"
+
+He bowed silently.
+
+The raft was even more crowded than yesterday, but way was made for him
+by Judasians past and present. He took his place in the centre of the
+front row.
+
+At his feet flowed the fateful river. From the various barges the last
+punt-loads had been ferried across to the towing-path, and the last
+of the men who were to follow the boats in their course had vanished
+towards the starting-point. There remained, however, a fringe of lesser
+enthusiasts. Their figures stood outlined sharply in that strange dark
+clearness which immediately precedes a storm.
+
+The thunder rumbled around the hills, and now and again there was a
+faint glare on the horizon.
+
+Would Judas bump Magdalen? Opinion on the raft seemed to be divided. But
+the sanguine spirits were in a majority.
+
+"If I were making a book on the event," said a middle-aged clergyman,
+with that air of breezy emancipation which is so distressing to the
+laity, "I'd bet two to one we bump."
+
+"You demean your cloth, sir," the Duke would have said, "without
+cheating its disabilities," had not his mouth been stopped by a loud and
+prolonged thunder-clap.
+
+In the hush thereafter, came the puny sound of a gunshot. The boats were
+starting. Would Judas bump Magdalen? Would Judas be head of the river?
+
+Strange, thought the Duke, that for him, standing as he did on the peak
+of dandyism, on the brink of eternity, this trivial question of boats
+could have importance. And yet, and yet, for this it was that his heart
+was beating. A few minutes hence, an end to victors and vanquished
+alike; and yet...
+
+A sudden white vertical streak slid down the sky. Then there was
+a consonance to split the drums of the world's ears, followed by
+a horrific rattling as of actual artillery--tens of thousands of
+gun-carriages simultaneously at the gallop, colliding, crashing, heeling
+over in the blackness.
+
+Then, and yet more awful, silence; the little earth cowering voiceless
+under the heavens' menace. And, audible in the hush now, a faint sound;
+the sound of the runners on the towing-path cheering the crews forward,
+forward.
+
+And there was another faint sound that came to the Duke's ears. It he
+understood when, a moment later, he saw the surface of the river alive
+with infinitesimal fountains.
+
+Rain!
+
+His very mantle was aspersed. In another minute he would stand sodden,
+inglorious, a mock. He didn't hesitate.
+
+"Zuleika!" he cried in a loud voice. Then he took a deep breath, and,
+burying his face in his mantle, plunged.
+
+Full on the river lay the mantle outspread. Then it, too, went under. A
+great roll of water marked the spot. The plumed hat floated.
+
+There was a confusion of shouts from the raft, of screams from the roof.
+Many youths--all the youths there--cried "Zuleika!" and leapt emulously
+headlong into the water. "Brave fellows!" shouted the elder men,
+supposing rescue-work. The rain pelted, the thunder pealed. Here and
+there was a glimpse of a young head above water--for an instant only.
+
+Shouts and screams now from the infected barges on either side. A score
+of fresh plunges. "Splendid fellows!"
+
+Meanwhile, what of the Duke? I am glad to say that he was alive and (but
+for the cold he had caught last night) well. Indeed, his mind had never
+worked more clearly than in this swift dim underworld. His mantle, the
+cords of it having come untied, had drifted off him, leaving his arms
+free. With breath well-pent, he steadily swam, scarcely less amused than
+annoyed that the gods had, after all, dictated the exact time at which
+he should seek death.
+
+I am loth to interrupt my narrative at this rather exciting moment--a
+moment when the quick, tense style, exemplified in the last paragraph
+but one, is so very desirable. But in justice to the gods I must pause
+to put in a word of excuse for them. They had imagined that it was
+in mere irony that the Duke had said he could not die till after the
+bumping-races; and not until it seemed that he stood ready to make an
+end of himself had the signal been given by Zeus for the rain to fall.
+One is taught to refrain from irony, because mankind does tend to take
+it literally. In the hearing of the gods, who hear all, it is conversely
+unsafe to make a simple and direct statement. So what is one to do? The
+dilemma needs a whole volume to itself.
+
+But to return to the Duke. He had now been under water for a full
+minute, swimming down stream; and he calculated that he had yet another
+full minute of consciousness. Already the whole of his past life
+had vividly presented itself to him--myriads of tiny incidents, long
+forgotten, now standing out sharply in their due sequence. He had
+mastered this conspectus in a flash of time, and was already tired of
+it. How smooth and yielding were the weeds against his face! He wondered
+if Mrs. Batch had been in time to cash the cheque. If not, of course his
+executors would pay the amount, but there would be delays, long delays,
+Mrs. Batch in meshes of red tape. Red tape for her, green weeds for
+him--he smiled at this poor conceit, classifying it as a fair sample of
+merman's wit. He swam on through the quiet cool darkness, less quickly
+now. Not many more strokes now, he told himself; a few, only a few; then
+sleep. How was he come here? Some woman had sent him. Ever so many years
+ago, some woman. He forgave her. There was nothing to forgive her. It
+was the gods who had sent him--too soon, too soon. He let his arms rise
+in the water, and he floated up. There was air in that over-world, and
+something he needed to know there before he came down again to sleep.
+
+He gasped the air into his lungs, and he remembered what it was that he
+needed to know.
+
+Had he risen in mid-stream, the keel of the Magdalen boat might have
+killed him. The oars of Magdalen did all but graze his face. The eyes of
+the Magdalen cox met his. The cords of the Magdalen rudder slipped from
+the hands that held them; whereupon the Magdalen man who rowed "bow"
+missed his stroke.
+
+An instant later, just where the line of barges begins, Judas had bumped
+Magdalen.
+
+A crash of thunder deadened the din of the stamping and dancing crowd on
+the towing-path. The rain was a deluge making land and water as one.
+
+And the conquered crew, and the conquering, both now had seen the face
+of the Duke. A white smiling face, anon it was gone. Dorset was gone
+down to his last sleep.
+
+Victory and defeat alike forgotten, the crews staggered erect and flung
+themselves into the river, the slender boats capsizing and spinning
+futile around in a melley of oars.
+
+From the towing-path--no more din there now, but great single cries
+of "Zuleika!"--leapt figures innumerable through rain to river. The
+arrested boats of the other crews drifted zigzag hither and thither. The
+dropped oars rocked and clashed, sank and rebounded, as the men plunged
+across them into the swirling stream.
+
+And over all this confusion and concussion of men and man-made things
+crashed the vaster discords of the heavens; and the waters of the
+heavens fell ever denser and denser, as though to the aid of waters that
+could not in themselves envelop so many hundreds of struggling human
+forms.
+
+All along the soaked towing-path lay strewn the horns, the rattles, the
+motor-hooters, that the youths had flung aside before they leapt. Here
+and there among these relics stood dazed elder men, staring through the
+storm. There was one of them--a grey-beard--who stripped off his blazer,
+plunged, grabbed at some live man, grappled him, was dragged under. He
+came up again further along stream, swam choking to the bank, clung to
+the grasses. He whimpered as he sought foot-hold in the slime. It was
+ill to be down in that abominable sink of death.
+
+Abominable, yes, to them who discerned there death only; but sacramental
+and sweet enough to the men who were dying there for love. Any face that
+rose was smiling.
+
+The thunder receded; the rain was less vehement: the boats and the oars
+had drifted against the banks. And always the patient river bore its
+awful burden towards Iffley.
+
+As on the towing-path, so on the youth-bereft rafts of the barges,
+yonder, stood many stupefied elders, staring at the river, staring back
+from the river into one another's faces.
+
+Dispeopled now were the roofs of the barges. Under the first drops of
+the rain most of the women had come huddling down for shelter inside;
+panic had presently driven down the rest. Yet on one roof one woman
+still was. A strange, drenched figure, she stood bright-eyed in the
+dimness; alone, as it was well she should be in her great hour; draining
+the lees of such homage as had come to no woman in history recorded.
+
+
+
+
+XX
+
+Artistically, there is a good deal to be said for that old Greek friend
+of ours, the Messenger; and I dare say you blame me for having, as it
+were, made you an eye-witness of the death of the undergraduates, when
+I might so easily have brought some one in to tell you about it after
+it was all over... Some one? Whom? Are you not begging the question?
+I admit there were, that evening in Oxford, many people who, when they
+went home from the river, gave vivid reports of what they had seen. But
+among them was none who had seen more than a small portion of the whole
+affair. Certainly, I might have pieced together a dozen of the various
+accounts, and put them all into the mouth of one person. But credibility
+is not enough for Clio's servant. I aim at truth. And so, as I by my
+Zeus-given incorporeity was the one person who had a good view of the
+scene at large, you must pardon me for having withheld the veil of
+indirect narration.
+
+"Too late," you will say if I offer you a Messenger now. But it was not
+thus that Mrs. Batch and Katie greeted Clarence when, lamentably soaked
+with rain, that Messenger appeared on the threshold of the kitchen.
+Katie was laying the table-cloth for seven o'clock supper. Neither she
+nor her mother was clairvoyante. Neither of them knew what had been
+happening. But, as Clarence had not come home since afternoon-school,
+they had assumed that he was at the river; and they now assumed from the
+look of him that something very unusual had been happening there. As to
+what this was, they were not quickly enlightened. Our old Greek friend,
+after a run of twenty miles, would always reel off a round hundred of
+graphic verses unimpeachable in scansion. Clarence was of degenerate
+mould. He collapsed on to a chair, and sat there gasping; and his
+recovery was rather delayed than hastened by his mother, who, in her
+solicitude, patted him vigorously between the shoulders.
+
+"Let him alone, mother, do," cried Katie, wringing her hands.
+
+"The Duke, he's drowned himself," presently gasped the Messenger.
+
+Blank verse, yes, so far as it went; but delivered without the slightest
+regard for rhythm, and composed in stark defiance of those laws which
+should regulate the breaking of bad news. You, please remember, were
+carefully prepared by me against the shock of the Duke's death; and yet
+I hear you still mumbling that I didn't let the actual fact be told you
+by a Messenger. Come, do you really think your grievance against me
+is for a moment comparable with that of Mrs. and Miss Batch against
+Clarence? Did you feel faint at any moment in the foregoing chapter? No.
+But Katie, at Clarence's first words, fainted outright. Think a little
+more about this poor girl senseless on the floor, and a little less
+about your own paltry discomfort.
+
+Mrs. Batch herself did not faint, but she was too much overwhelmed to
+notice that her daughter had done so.
+
+"No! Mercy on us! Speak, boy, can't you?"
+
+"The river," gasped Clarence. "Threw himself in. On purpose. I was on
+the towing-path. Saw him do it."
+
+Mrs. Batch gave a low moan.
+
+"Katie's fainted," added the Messenger, not without a touch of personal
+pride.
+
+"Saw him do it," Mrs. Batch repeated dully. "Katie," she said, in the
+same voice, "get up this instant." But Katie did not hear her.
+
+The mother was loth to have been outdone in sensibility by the daughter,
+and it was with some temper that she hastened to make the necessary
+ministrations.
+
+"Where am I?" asked Katie, at length, echoing the words used in this
+very house, at a similar juncture, on this very day, by another lover of
+the Duke.
+
+"Ah, you may well ask that," said Mrs. Batch, with more force than
+reason. "A mother's support indeed! Well! And as for you," she cried,
+turning on Clarence, "sending her off like that with your--" She
+was face to face again with the tragic news. Katie, remembering it
+simultaneously, uttered a loud sob. Mrs. Batch capped this with a much
+louder one. Clarence stood before the fire, slowly revolving on one
+heel. His clothes steamed briskly.
+
+"It isn't true," said Katie. She rose and came uncertainly towards her
+brother, half threatening, half imploring.
+
+"All right," said he, strong in his advantage. "Then I shan't tell
+either of you anything more."
+
+Mrs. Batch through her tears called Katie a bad girl, and Clarence a bad
+boy.
+
+"Where did you get THEM?" asked Clarence, pointing to the ear-rings worn
+by his sister.
+
+"HE gave me them," said Katie. Clarence curbed the brotherly intention
+of telling her she looked "a sight" in them.
+
+She stood staring into vacancy. "He didn't love HER," she murmured.
+"That was all over. I'll vow he didn't love HER."
+
+"Who d'you mean by her?" asked Clarence.
+
+"That Miss Dobson that's been here."
+
+"What's her other name?"
+
+"Zuleika," Katie enunciated with bitterest abhorrence.
+
+"Well, then, he jolly well did love her. That's the name he called out
+just before he threw himself in. 'Zuleika!'--like that," added the boy,
+with a most infelicitous attempt to reproduce the Duke's manner.
+
+Katie had shut her eyes, and clenched her hands.
+
+"He hated her. He told me so," she said.
+
+"I was always a mother to him," sobbed Mrs. Batch, rocking to and fro on
+a chair in a corner. "Why didn't he come to me in his trouble?"
+
+"He kissed me," said Katie, as in a trance. "No other man shall ever do
+that."
+
+"He did?" exclaimed Clarence. "And you let him?"
+
+"You wretched little whipper-snapper!" flashed Katie.
+
+"Oh, I am, am I?" shouted Clarence, squaring up to his sister. "Say that
+again, will you?"
+
+There is no doubt that Katie would have said it again, had not her
+mother closed the scene with a prolonged wail of censure.
+
+"You ought to be thinking of ME, you wicked girl," said Mrs. Batch.
+Katie went across, and laid a gentle hand on her mother's shoulder.
+This, however, did but evoke a fresh flood of tears. Mrs. Batch had a
+keen sense of the deportment owed to tragedy. Katie, by bickering with
+Clarence, had thrown away the advantage she had gained by fainting. Mrs.
+Batch was not going to let her retrieve it by shining as a consoler.
+I hasten to add that this resolve was only sub-conscious in the good
+woman. Her grief was perfectly sincere. And it was not the less so
+because with it was mingled a certain joy in the greatness of the
+calamity. She came of good sound peasant stock. Abiding in her was the
+spirit of those old songs and ballads in which daisies and daffodillies
+and lovers' vows and smiles are so strangely inwoven with tombs and
+ghosts, with murders and all manner of grim things. She had not had
+education enough to spoil her nerve. She was able to take the rough with
+the smooth. She was able to take all life for her province, and death
+too.
+
+The Duke was dead. This was the stupendous outline she had grasped: now
+let it be filled in. She had been stricken: now let her be racked. Soon
+after her daughter had moved away, Mrs. Batch dried her eyes, and bade
+Clarence tell just what had happened. She did not flinch. Modern Katie
+did.
+
+Such had ever been the Duke's magic in the household that Clarence
+had at first forgotten to mention that any one else was dead. Of
+this omission he was glad. It promised him a new lease of importance.
+Meanwhile, he described in greater detail the Duke's plunge. Mrs.
+Batch's mind, while she listened, ran ahead, dog-like, into the
+immediate future, ranging around: "the family" would all be here
+to-morrow, the Duke's own room must be "put straight" to-night, "I was
+of speaking"...
+
+Katie's mind harked back to the immediate past--to the tone of that
+voice, to that hand which she had kissed, to the touch of those lips on
+her brow, to the door-step she had made so white for him, day by day...
+
+The sound of the rain had long ceased. There was the noise of a
+gathering wind.
+
+"Then in went a lot of others," Clarence was saying. "And they all
+shouted out 'Zuleika!' just like he did. Then a lot more went in.
+First I thought it was some sort of fun. Not it!" And he told how,
+by inquiries further down the river, he had learned the extent of the
+disaster. "Hundreds and hundreds of them--ALL of them," he summed up.
+"And all for the love of HER," he added, as with a sulky salute to
+Romance.
+
+Mrs. Batch had risen from her chair, the better to cope with such
+magnitude. She stood with wide-spread arms, silent, gaping. She seemed,
+by sheer force of sympathy, to be expanding to the dimensions of a
+crowd.
+
+Intensive Katie recked little of all these other deaths. "I only know,"
+she said, "that he hated her."
+
+"Hundreds and hundreds--ALL," intoned Mrs. Batch, then gave a sudden
+start, as having remembered something. Mr. Noaks! He, too! She staggered
+to the door, leaving her actual offspring to their own devices, and went
+heavily up the stairs, her mind scampering again before her.... If he
+was safe and sound, dear young gentleman, heaven be praised! and she
+would break the awful news to him, very gradually. If not, there was
+another "family" to be solaced; "I'm a mother myself, Mrs. Noaks"...
+
+The sitting-room door was closed. Twice did Mrs. Batch tap on the panel,
+receiving no answer. She went in, gazed around in the dimness, sighed
+deeply, and struck a match. Conspicuous on the table lay a piece of
+paper. She bent to examine it. A piece of lined paper, torn from an
+exercise book, it was neatly inscribed with the words "What is Life
+without Love?" The final word and the note of interrogation were
+somewhat blurred, as by a tear. The match had burnt itself out. The
+landlady lit another, and read the legend a second time, that she might
+take in the full pathos of it. Then she sat down in the arm-chair. For
+some minutes she wept there. Then, having no more, tears, she went out
+on tip-toe, closing the door very quietly.
+
+As she descended the last flight of stairs, her daughter had just shut
+the front-door, and was coming along the hall.
+
+"Poor Mr. Noaks--he's gone," said the mother.
+
+"Has he?" said Katie listlessly.
+
+"Yes he has, you heartless girl. What's that you've got in your hand?
+Why, if it isn't the black-leading! And what have you been doing with
+that?"
+
+"Let me alone, mother, do," said poor Katie. She had done her lowly
+task. She had expressed her mourning, as best she could, there where she
+had been wont to express her love.
+
+
+
+
+XXI
+
+And Zuleika? She had done a wise thing, and was where it was best that
+she should be.
+
+Her face lay upturned on the water's surface, and round it were the
+masses of her dark hair, half floating, half submerged. Her eyes were
+closed, and her lips were parted. Not Ophelia in the brook could have
+seemed more at peace.
+
+          "Like a creature native and indued
+     Unto that element,"
+tranquil Zuleika lay.
+
+Gently to and fro her tresses drifted on the water, or under the water
+went ever ravelling and unravelling. Nothing else of her stirred.
+
+What to her now the loves that she had inspired and played on? the lives
+lost for her? Little thought had she now of them. Aloof she lay.
+
+Steadily rising from the water was a thick vapour that turned to dew on
+the window-pane. The air was heavy with scent of violets. These are the
+flowers of mourning; but their scent here and now signified nothing; for
+Eau de Violettes was the bath-essence that Zuleika always had.
+
+The bath-room was not of the white-gleaming kind to which she was
+accustomed. The walls were papered, not tiled, and the bath itself was
+of japanned tin, framed in mahogany. These things, on the evening of
+her arrival at the Warden's, had rather distressed her. But she was the
+better able to bear them because of that well-remembered past when a
+bath-room was in itself a luxury pined for--days when a not-large and
+not-full can of not-hot water, slammed down at her bedroom door by a
+governess-resenting housemaid, was as much as the gods allowed her. And
+there was, to dulcify for her the bath of this evening, the yet sharper
+contrast with the plight she had just come home in, sopped, shivering,
+clung to by her clothes. Because this bath was not a mere luxury, but a
+necessary precaution, a sure means of salvation from chill, she did the
+more gratefully bask in it, till Melisande came back to her, laden with
+warmed towels.
+
+A few minutes before eight o'clock she was fully ready to go down to
+dinner, with even more than the usual glow of health, and hungry beyond
+her wont.
+
+Yet, as she went down, her heart somewhat misgave her. Indeed, by force
+of the wide experience she had had as a governess, she never did feel
+quite at her ease when she was staying in a private house: the fear of
+not giving satisfaction haunted her; she was always on her guard; the
+shadow of dismissal absurdly hovered. And to-night she could not tell
+herself, as she usually did, not to be so silly. If her grandfather knew
+already the motive by which those young men had been actuated, dinner
+with him might be a rather strained affair. He might tell her, in so
+many words, that he wished he had not invited her to Oxford.
+
+Through the open door of the drawing room she saw him, standing
+majestic, draped in a voluminous black gown. Her instinct was to run
+away; but this she conquered. She went straight in, remembering not to
+smile.
+
+"Ah, ah," said the Warden, shaking a forefinger at her with old-world
+playfulness. "And what have you to say for yourself?"
+
+Relieved, she was also a trifle shocked. Was it possible that he, a
+responsible old man, could take things so lightly?
+
+"Oh, grand-papa," she answered, hanging her head, "what CAN I say? It
+is--it is too, too, dreadful."
+
+"There, there, my dear. I was but jesting. If you have had an agreeable
+time, you are forgiven for playing truant. Where have you been all day?"
+
+She saw that she had misjudged him. "I have just come from the river,"
+she said gravely.
+
+"Yes? And did the College make its fourth bump to-night?"
+
+"I--I don't know, grand-papa. There was so much happening. It--I will
+tell you all about it at dinner."
+
+"Ah, but to-night," he said, indicating his gown, "I cannot be with you.
+The bump-supper, you know. I have to preside in Hall."
+
+Zuleika had forgotten there was to be a bump-supper, and, though she
+was not very sure what a bump-supper was, she felt it would be a mockery
+to-night.
+
+"But grand-papa--" she began.
+
+"My dear, I cannot dissociate myself from the life of the College. And,
+alas," he said, looking at the clock, "I must leave you now. As soon as
+you have finished dinner, you might, if you would care to, come and peep
+down at us from the gallery. There is apt to be some measure of
+noise and racket, but all of it good-humoured and--boys will be
+boys--pardonable. Will you come?"
+
+"Perhaps, grand-papa," she said awkwardly. Left alone, she hardly knew
+whether to laugh or cry. In a moment, the butler came to her rescue,
+telling her that dinner was served.
+
+As the figure of the Warden emerged from Salt Cellar into the Front
+Quadrangle, a hush fell on the group of gowned Fellows outside the Hall.
+Most of them had only just been told the news, and (such is the force
+of routine in an University) were still sceptical of it. And in face of
+these doubts the three or four dons who had been down at the river were
+now half ready to believe that there must, after all, be some mistake,
+and that in this world of illusions they had to-night been specially
+tricked. To rebut this theory, there was the notable absence of
+undergraduates. Or was this an illusion, too? Men of thought, agile on
+the plane of ideas, devils of fellows among books, they groped feebly
+in this matter of actual life and death. The sight of their Warden
+heartened them. After all, he was the responsible person. He was father
+of the flock that had strayed, and grandfather of the beautiful Miss
+Zuleika.
+
+Like her, they remembered not to smile in greeting him.
+
+"Good evening, gentlemen," he said. "The storm seems to have passed."
+
+There was a murmur of "Yes, Warden."
+
+"And how did our boat acquit itself?"
+
+There was a shuffling pause. Every one looked at the Sub-Warden: it was
+manifestly for him to break the news, or to report the hallucination. He
+was nudged forward--a large man, with a large beard at which he plucked
+nervously.
+
+"Well, really, Warden," he said, "we--we hardly know,"* and he ended
+with what can only be described as a giggle. He fell low in the esteem
+of his fellows.
+
+
+   *Those of my readers who are interested in athletic sports will
+    remember the long controversy that raged as to whether Judas had
+    actually bumped Magdalen; and they will not need to be minded that
+    it was mainly through the evidence of Mr. E. T. A. Cook, who had
+    been on the towing-path at the time, that the O. U. B. C. decided
+    the point in Judas' favour, and fixed the order of the boats for
+    the following year accordingly.
+
+
+Thinking of that past Sub-Warden whose fame was linked with the
+sun-dial, the Warden eyed this one keenly.
+
+"Well, gentlemen," he presently said, "our young men seem to be already
+at table. Shall we follow their example?" And he led the way up the
+steps.
+
+Already at table? The dons' dubiety toyed with this hypothesis. But the
+aspect of the Hall's interior was hard to explain away. Here were the
+three long tables, stretching white towards the dais, and laden with the
+usual crockery and cutlery, and with pots of flowers in honour of the
+occasion. And here, ranged along either wall, was the usual array of
+scouts, motionless, with napkins across their arms. But that was all.
+
+It became clear to the Warden that some organised prank or protest was
+afoot. Dignity required that he should take no heed whatsoever. Looking
+neither to the right nor to the left, stately he approached the dais,
+his Fellows to heel.
+
+In Judas, as in other Colleges, grace before meat is read by the Senior
+Scholar. The Judas grace (composed, they say, by Christopher Whitrid
+himself) is noted for its length and for the excellence of its Latinity.
+Who was to read it to-night? The Warden, having searched his mind vainly
+for a precedent, was driven to create one.
+
+"The Junior Fellow," he said, "will read grace."
+
+Blushing to the roots of his hair, and with crablike gait, Mr. Pedby,
+the Junior Fellow, went and unhooked from the wall that little shield
+of wood on which the words of the grace are carven. Mr. Pedby was--Mr.
+Pedby is--a mathematician. His treatise on the Higher Theory of Short
+Division by Decimals had already won for him an European reputation.
+Judas was--Judas is--proud of Pedby. Nor is it denied that in
+undertaking the duty thrust on him he quickly controlled his nerves and
+read the Latin out in ringing accents. Better for him had he not done
+so. The false quantities he made were so excruciating and so many that,
+while the very scouts exchanged glances, the dons at the high table lost
+all command of their features, and made horrible noises in the effort to
+contain themselves. The very Warden dared not look from his plate.
+
+In every breast around the high table, behind every shirt-front or
+black silk waistcoat, glowed the recognition of a new birth. Suddenly,
+unheralded, a thing of highest destiny had fallen into their academic
+midst. The stock of Common Room talk had to-night been re-inforced and
+enriched for all time. Summers and winters would come and go, old faces
+would vanish, giving place to new, but the story of Pedby's grace would
+be told always. Here was a tradition that generations of dons yet unborn
+would cherish and chuckle over. Something akin to awe mingled itself
+with the subsiding merriment. And the dons, having finished their soup,
+sipped in silence the dry brown sherry.
+
+Those who sat opposite to the Warden, with their backs to the void,
+were oblivious of the matter that had so recently teased them. They
+were conscious only of an agreeable hush, in which they peered down
+the vistas of the future, watching the tradition of Pedby's grace as it
+rolled brighter and ever brighter down to eternity.
+
+The pop of a champagne cork startled them to remembrance that this was a
+bump-supper, and a bump-supper of a peculiar kind. The turbot that
+came after the soup, the champagne that succeeded the sherry, helped to
+quicken in these men of thought the power to grapple with a reality. The
+aforesaid three or four who had been down at the river recovered their
+lost belief in the evidence of their eyes and ears. In the rest was a
+spirit of receptivity which, as the meal went on, mounted to conviction.
+The Sub-Warden made a second and more determined attempt to enlighten
+the Warden; but the Warden's eye met his with a suspicion so cruelly
+pointed that he again floundered and gave in.
+
+All adown those empty other tables gleamed the undisturbed cutlery, and
+the flowers in the pots innocently bloomed. And all adown either wall,
+unneeded but undisbanded, the scouts remained. Some of the elder ones
+stood with closed eyes and heads sunk forward, now and again jerking
+themselves erect, and blinking around, wondering, remembering.
+
+And for a while this scene was looked down on by a not disinterested
+stranger. For a while, her chin propped on her hands, Zuleika leaned
+over the rail of the gallery, just as she had lately leaned over the
+barge's rail, staring down and along. But there was no spark of triumph
+now in her eyes; only a deep melancholy; and in her mouth a taste as of
+dust and ashes. She thought of last night, and of all the buoyant life
+that this Hall had held. Of the Duke she thought, and of the whole vivid
+and eager throng of his fellows in love. Her will, their will, had been
+done. But, there rose to her lips the old, old question that withers
+victory--"To what end?" Her eyes ranged along the tables, and an
+appalling sense of loneliness swept over her. She turned away, wrapping
+the folds of her cloak closer across her breast. Not in this College
+only, but through and through Oxford, there was no heart that beat for
+her--no, not one, she told herself, with that instinct for self-torture
+which comes to souls in torment. She was utterly alone to-night in the
+midst of a vast indifference. She! She! Was it possible? Were the gods
+so merciless? Ah no, surely...
+
+Down at the high table the feast drew to its close, and very different
+was the mood of the feasters from that of the young woman whose glance
+had for a moment rested on their unromantic heads. Generations of
+undergraduates had said that Oxford would be all very well but for the
+dons. Do you suppose that the dons had had no answering sentiment? Youth
+is a very good thing to possess, no doubt; but it is a tiresome setting
+for maturity. Youth all around prancing, vociferating, mocking; callow
+and alien youth, having to be looked after and studied and taught,
+as though nothing but it mattered, term after term--and now, all of a
+sudden, in mid-term, peace, ataraxy, a profound and leisured stillness.
+No lectures to deliver to-morrow; no "essays" to hear and criticise;
+time for the unvexed pursuit of pure learning...
+
+As the Fellows passed out on their way to Common Room, there to tackle
+with a fresh appetite Pedby's grace, they paused, as was their wont, on
+the steps of the Hall, looking up at the sky, envisaging the weather.
+The wind had dropped. There was even a glimpse of the moon riding behind
+the clouds. And now, a solemn and plangent token of Oxford's perpetuity,
+the first stroke of Great Tom sounded.
+
+
+
+
+XXII
+
+Stroke by stroke, the great familiar monody of that incomparable curfew
+rose and fell in the stillness.
+
+Nothing of Oxford lingers more surely than it in the memory of Oxford
+men; and to one revisiting these groves nothing is more eloquent of that
+scrupulous historic economy whereby his own particular past is utilised
+as the general present and future. "All's as it was, all's as it will
+be," says Great Tom; and that is what he stubbornly said on the evening
+I here record.
+
+Stroke by measured and leisured stroke, the old euphonious clangour
+pervaded Oxford, spreading out over the meadows, along the river,
+audible in Iffley. But to the dim groups gathering and dispersing on
+either bank, and to the silent workers in the boats, the bell's message
+came softened, equivocal; came as a requiem for these dead.
+
+Over the closed gates of Iffley lock, the water gushed down, eager for
+the sacrament of the sea. Among the supine in the field hard by, there
+was one whose breast bore a faint-gleaming star. And bending over him,
+looking down at him with much love and pity in her eyes, was the shade
+of Nellie O'Mora, that "fairest witch," to whose memory he had to-day
+atoned.
+
+And yonder, "sitting upon the river-bank o'ergrown," with questioning
+eyes, was another shade, more habituated to these haunts--the shade
+known so well to bathers "in the abandoned lasher," and to dancers
+"around the Fyfield elm in May." At the bell's final stroke, the Scholar
+Gipsy rose, letting fall on the water his gathered wild-flowers, and
+passed towards Cumnor.
+
+And now, duly, throughout Oxford, the gates of the Colleges were closed,
+and closed were the doors of the lodging-houses. Every night, for many
+years, at this hour precisely, Mrs. Batch had come out from her kitchen,
+to turn the key in the front-door. The function had long ago become
+automatic. To-night, however, it was the cue for further tears. These
+did not cease at her return to the kitchen, where she had gathered
+about her some sympathetic neighbours--women of her own age and
+kind, capacious of tragedy; women who might be relied on; founts of
+ejaculation, wells of surmise, downpours of remembered premonitions.
+
+With his elbows on the kitchen table, and his knuckles to his brow, sat
+Clarence, intent on belated "prep." Even an eye-witness of disaster may
+pall if he repeat his story too often. Clarence had noted in the last
+recital that he was losing his hold on his audience. So now he sat
+committing to memory the names of the cantons of Switzerland, and waving
+aside with a harsh gesture such questions as were still put to him by
+the women.
+
+Katie had sought refuge in the need for "putting the gentlemen's rooms
+straight," against the arrival of the two families to-morrow. Duster
+in hand, and by the light of a single candle that barely survived the
+draught from the open window, she moved to and fro about the Duke's
+room, a wan and listless figure, casting queerest shadows on the
+ceiling. There were other candles that she might have lit, but this
+ambiguous gloom suited her sullen humour. Yes, I am sorry to say, Katie
+was sullen. She had not ceased to mourn the Duke; but it was even more
+anger than grief that she felt at his dying. She was as sure as ever
+that he had not loved Miss Dobson; but this only made it the more
+outrageous that he had died because of her. What was there in this woman
+that men should so demean themselves for her? Katie, as you know, had at
+first been unaffected by the death of the undergraduates at large. But,
+because they too had died for Zuleika, she was bitterly incensed against
+them now. What could they have admired in such a woman? She didn't even
+look like a lady. Katie caught the dim reflection of herself in the
+mirror. She took the candle from the table, and examined the reflection
+closely. She was sure she was just as pretty as Miss Dobson. It was only
+the clothes that made the difference--the clothes and the behaviour.
+Katie threw back her head, and smiled brilliantly, hand on hip. She
+nodded reassuringly at herself; and the black pearl and the pink danced
+a duet. She put the candle down, and undid her hair, roughly parting
+it on one side, and letting it sweep down over the further eyebrow. She
+fixed it in that fashion, and posed accordingly. Now! But gradually her
+smile relaxed, and a mist came to her eyes. For she had to admit that
+even so, after all, she hadn't just that something which somehow Miss
+Dobson had. She put away from her the hasty dream she had had of a whole
+future generation of undergraduates drowning themselves, every one, in
+honour of her. She went wearily on with her work.
+
+Presently, after a last look round, she went up the creaking stairs, to
+do Mr. Noaks' room.
+
+She found on the table that screed which her mother had recited so often
+this evening. She put it in the waste-paper basket.
+
+Also on the table were a lexicon, a Thucydides, and some note-books.
+These she took and shelved without a tear for the closed labours they
+bore witness to.
+
+The next disorder that met her eye was one that gave her pause--seemed,
+indeed, to transfix her.
+
+Mr. Noaks had never, since he came to lodge here, possessed more than
+one pair of boots. This fact had been for her a lasting source of
+annoyance; for it meant that she had to polish Mr. Noaks' boots always
+in the early morning, when there were so many other things to be done,
+instead of choosing her own time. Her annoyance had been all the keener
+because Mr. Noaks' boots more than made up in size for what they lacked
+in number. Either of them singly took more time and polish than any
+other pair imaginable. She would have recognised them, at a glance,
+anywhere. Even so now, it was at a glance that she recognised the toes
+of them protruding from beneath the window-curtain. She dismissed the
+theory that Mr. Noaks might have gone utterly unshod to the river. She
+scouted the hypothesis that his ghost could be shod thus. By process
+of elimination she arrived at the truth. "Mr. Noaks," she said quietly,
+"come out of there."
+
+There was a slight quiver of the curtain; no more. Katie repeated her
+words. There was a pause, then a convulsion of the curtain. Noaks stood
+forth.
+
+Always, in polishing his boots, Katie had found herself thinking of him
+as a man of prodigious stature, well though she knew him to be quite
+tiny. Even so now, at recognition of his boots, she had fixed her eyes
+to meet his, when he should emerge, a full yard too high. With a sharp
+drop she focussed him.
+
+"By what right," he asked, "do you come prying about my room?"
+
+This was a stroke so unexpected that it left Katie mute. It equally
+surprised Noaks, who had been about to throw himself on his knees and
+implore this girl not to betray him. He was quick, though, to clinch his
+advantage.
+
+"This," he said, "is the first time I have caught you. Let it be the
+last."
+
+Was this the little man she had so long despised, and so superciliously
+served? His very smallness gave him an air of concentrated force. She
+remembered having read that all the greatest men in history had been of
+less than the middle height. And--oh, her heart leapt--here was the
+one man who had scorned to die for Miss Dobson. He alone had held out
+against the folly of his fellows. Sole and splendid survivor he stood,
+rock-footed, before her. And impulsively she abased herself, kneeling at
+his feet as at the great double altar of some dark new faith.
+
+"You are great, sir, you are wonderful," she said, gazing up to him,
+rapt. It was the first time she had ever called him "sir."
+
+It is easier, as Michelet suggested, for a woman to change her opinion
+of a man than for him to change his opinion of himself. Noaks, despite
+the presence of mind he had shown a few moments ago, still saw himself
+as he had seen himself during the past hours: that is, as an arrant
+little coward--one who by his fear to die had put himself outside the
+pale of decent manhood. He had meant to escape from the house at dead of
+night and, under an assumed name, work his passage out to Australia--a
+land which had always made strong appeal to his imagination. No one, he
+had reflected, would suppose because his body was not retrieved from
+the water that he had not perished with the rest. And he had looked to
+Australia to make a man of him yet: in Encounter Bay, perhaps, or in the
+Gulf of Carpentaria, he might yet end nobly.
+
+Thus Katie's behaviour was as much an embarrassment as a relief; and he
+asked her in what way he was great and wonderful.
+
+"Modest, like all heroes!" she cried, and, still kneeling, proceeded to
+sing his praises with a so infectious fervour that Noaks did begin to
+feel he had done a fine thing in not dying. After all, was it not moral
+cowardice as much as love that had tempted him to die? He had wrestled
+with it, thrown it. "Yes," said he, when her rhapsody was over, "perhaps
+I am modest."
+
+"And that is why you hid yourself just now?"
+
+"Yes," he gladly said. "I hid myself for the same reason," he added,
+"when I heard your mother's footstep."
+
+"But," she faltered, with a sudden doubt, "that bit of writing which
+Mother found on the table--"
+
+"That? Oh, that was only a general reflection, copied out of a book."
+
+"Oh, won't poor Mother be glad when she knows!"
+
+"I don't want her to know," said Noaks, with a return of nervousness.
+"You mustn't tell any one. I--the fact is--"
+
+"Ah, that is so like you!" the girl said tenderly. "I suppose it was
+your modesty that all this while blinded me. Please, sir, I have a
+confession to make to you. Never till to-night have I loved you."
+
+Exquisite was the shock of these words to one who, not without reason,
+had always assumed that no woman would ever love him. Before he knew
+what he was doing, he had bent down and kissed the sweet upturned face.
+It was the first kiss he had ever given outside his family circle. It
+was an artless and a resounding kiss.
+
+He started back, dazed. What manner of man, he wondered, was he? A
+coward, piling profligacy on poltroonery? Or a hero, claiming exemption
+from moral law? What was done could not be undone; but it could be
+righted. He drew off from the little finger of his left hand that iron
+ring which, after a twinge of rheumatism, he had to-day resumed.
+
+"Wear it," he said.
+
+"You mean--?" She leapt to her feet.
+
+"That we are engaged. I hope you don't think we have any choice?"
+
+She clapped her hands, like the child she was, and adjusted the ring.
+
+"It is very pretty," she said.
+
+"It is very simple," he answered lightly. "But," he added, with a change
+of tone, "it is very durable. And that is the important thing. For I
+shall not be in a position to marry before I am forty."
+
+A shadow of disappointment hovered over Katie's clear young brow, but
+was instantly chased away by the thought that to be engaged was almost
+as splendid as to be married.
+
+"Recently," said her lover, "I meditated leaving Oxford for Australia.
+But now that you have come into my life, I am compelled to drop that
+notion, and to carve out the career I had first set for myself. A year
+hence, if I get a Second in Greats--and I SHALL" he said, with a
+fierce look that entranced her--"I shall have a very good chance of an
+assistant-mastership in a good private school. In eighteen years, if I
+am careful--and, with you waiting for me, I SHALL be careful--my savings
+will enable me to start a small school of my own, and to take a wife.
+Even then it would be more prudent to wait another five years, no doubt.
+But there was always a streak of madness in the Noakses. I say 'Prudence
+to the winds!'"
+
+"Ah, don't say that!" exclaimed Katie, laying a hand on his sleeve.
+
+"You are right. Never hesitate to curb me. And," he said, touching the
+ring, "an idea has just occurred to me. When the time comes, let this
+be the wedding-ring. Gold is gaudy--not at all the thing for a
+schoolmaster's bride. It is a pity," he muttered, examining her through
+his spectacles, "that your hair is so golden. A schoolmaster's bride
+should--Good heavens! Those ear-rings! Where did you get THEM?"
+
+"They were given to me to-day," Katie faltered. "The Duke gave me them."
+
+"Indeed?"
+
+"Please, sir, he gave me them as a memento."
+
+"And that memento shall immediately be handed over to his executors."
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"I should think so!" was on the tip of Noaks' tongue, but suddenly he
+ceased to see the pearls as trinkets finite and inapposite--saw them,
+in a flash, as things transmutable by sale hereafter into desks, forms,
+black-boards, maps, lockers, cubicles, gravel soil, diet unlimited, and
+special attention to backward pupils. Simultaneously, he saw how mean
+had been his motive for repudiating the gift. What more despicable than
+jealousy of a man deceased? What sillier than to cast pearls before
+executors? Sped by nothing but the pulse of his hot youth, he had wooed
+and won this girl. Why flinch from her unsought dowry?
+
+He told her his vision. Her eyes opened wide to it. "And oh," she cried,
+"then we can be married as soon as you take your degree!"
+
+He bade her not be so foolish. Who ever heard of a head-master aged
+three-and-twenty? What parent or guardian would trust a stripling? The
+engagement must run its course. "And," he said, fidgeting, "do you know
+that I have hardly done any reading to-day?"
+
+"You want to read NOW--TO-NIGHT?"
+
+"I must put in a good two hours. Where are the books that were on my
+table?"
+
+Reverently--he was indeed a king of men--she took the books down from
+the shelf, and placed them where she had found them. And she knew not
+which thrilled her the more--the kiss he gave her at parting, or the
+tone in which he told her that the one thing he could not and would not
+stand was having his books disturbed.
+
+Still less than before attuned to the lugubrious session downstairs, she
+went straight up to her attic, and did a little dance there in the
+dark. She threw open the lattice of the dormer-window, and leaned out,
+smiling, throbbing.
+
+The Emperors, gazing up, saw her happy, and wondered; saw Noaks' ring on
+her finger, and would fain have shaken their grey heads.
+
+Presently she was aware of a protrusion from the window beneath hers.
+The head of her beloved! Fondly she watched it, wished she could reach
+down to stroke it. She loved him for having, after all, left his books.
+It was sweet to be his excuse. Should she call softly to him? No, it
+might shame him to be caught truant. He had already chidden her for
+prying. So she did but gaze down on his head silently, wondering whether
+in eighteen years it would be bald, wondering whether her own hair would
+still have the fault of being golden. Most of all, she wondered whether
+he loved her half so much as she loved him.
+
+This happened to be precisely what he himself was wondering. Not that
+he wished himself free. He was one of those in whom the will does not,
+except under very great pressure, oppose the conscience. What pressure
+here? Miss Batch was a superior girl; she would grace any station in
+life. He had always been rather in awe of her. It was a fine thing to be
+suddenly loved by her, to be in a position to over-rule her every whim.
+Plighting his troth, he had feared she would be an encumbrance, only to
+find she was a lever. But--was he deeply in love with her? How was it
+that he could not at this moment recall her features, or the tone of her
+voice, while of deplorable Miss Dobson, every lineament, every accent,
+so vividly haunted him? Try as he would to beat off these memories, he
+failed, and--some very great pressure here!--was glad he failed; glad
+though he found himself relapsing to the self-contempt from which Miss
+Batch had raised him. He scorned himself for being alive. And again, he
+scorned himself for his infidelity. Yet he was glad he could not forget
+that face, that voice--that queen. She had smiled at him when she
+borrowed the ring. She had said "Thank you." Oh, and now, at this very
+moment, sleeping or waking, actually she was somewhere--she! herself!
+This was an incredible, an indubitable, an all-magical fact for the
+little fellow.
+
+From the street below came a faint cry that was as the cry of his own
+heart, uttered by her own lips. Quaking, he peered down, and dimly saw,
+over the way, a cloaked woman.
+
+She--yes, it was she herself--came gliding to the middle of the road,
+gazing up at him.
+
+"At last!" he heard her say. His instinct was to hide himself from the
+queen he had not died for. Yet he could not move.
+
+"Or," she quavered, "are you a phantom sent to mock me? Speak!"
+
+"Good evening," he said huskily.
+
+"I knew," she murmured, "I knew the gods were not so cruel. Oh man of my
+need," she cried, stretching out her arms to him, "oh heaven-sent, I see
+you only as a dark outline against the light of your room. But I know
+you. Your name is Noaks, isn't it? Dobson is mine. I am your Warden's
+grand-daughter. I am faint and foot-sore. I have ranged this desert city
+in search of--of YOU. Let me hear from your own lips that you love me.
+Tell me in your own words--" She broke off with a little scream, and did
+not stand with forefinger pointed at him, gazing, gasping.
+
+"Listen, Miss Dobson," he stammered, writhing under what he took to be
+the lash of her irony. "Give me time to explain. You see me here--"
+
+"Hush," she cried, "man of my greater, my deeper and nobler need!
+Oh hush, ideal which not consciously I was out for to-night--ideal
+vouchsafed to me by a crowning mercy! I sought a lover, I find a master.
+I sought but a live youth, was blind to what his survival would betoken.
+Oh master, you think me light and wicked. You stare coldly down at me
+through your spectacles, whose glint I faintly discern now that the moon
+peeps forth. You would be readier to forgive me the havoc I have wrought
+if you could for the life of you understand what charm your friends
+found in me. You marvel, as at the skull of Helen of Troy. No, you don't
+think me hideous: you simply think me plain. There was a time when I
+thought YOU plain--you whose face, now that the moon shines full on it,
+is seen to be of a beauty that is flawless without being insipid. Oh
+that I were a glove upon that hand, that I might touch that cheek! You
+shudder at the notion of such contact. My voice grates on you. You try
+to silence me with frantic though exquisite gestures, and with noises
+inarticulate but divine. I bow to your will, master. Chasten me with
+your tongue."
+
+"I am not what you think me," gibbered Noaks. "I was not afraid to die
+for you. I love you. I was on my way to the river this afternoon, but
+I--I tripped and sprained my ankle, and--and jarred my spine. They
+carried me back here. I am still very weak. I can't put my foot to the
+ground. As soon as I can--"
+
+Just then Zuleika heard a little sharp sound which, for the fraction of
+an instant, before she knew it to be a clink of metal on the pavement,
+she thought was the breaking of the heart within her. Looking quickly
+down, she heard a shrill girlish laugh aloft. Looking quickly up,
+she descried at the unlit window above her lover's a face which she
+remembered as that of the land-lady's daughter.
+
+"Find it, Miss Dobson," laughed the girl. "Crawl for it. It can't have
+rolled far, and it's the only engagement-ring you'll get from HIM," she
+said, pointing to the livid face twisted painfully up at her from the
+lower window. "Grovel for it, Miss Dobson. Ask him to step down and help
+you. Oh, he can! That was all lies about his spine and ankle. Afraid,
+that's what he was--I see it all now--afraid of the water. I wish you'd
+found him as I did--skulking behind the curtain. Oh, you're welcome to
+him."
+
+"Don't listen," Noaks cried down. "Don't listen to that person. I admit
+I have trifled with her affections. This is her revenge--these wicked
+untruths--these--these--"
+
+Zuleika silenced him with a gesture. "Your tone to me," she said up to
+Katie, "is not without offence; but the stamp of truth is on what you
+tell me. We have both been deceived in this man, and are, in some sort,
+sisters."
+
+"Sisters?" cried Katie. "Your sisters are the snake and the spider,
+though neither of them wishes it known. I loathe you. And the Duke
+loathed you, too."
+
+"What's that?" gasped Zuleika.
+
+"Didn't he tell you? He told me. And I warrant he told you, too."
+
+"He died for love of me: d'you hear?"
+
+"Ah, you'd like people to think so, wouldn't you? Does a man who loves a
+woman give away the keepsake she gave him? Look!" Katie leaned forward,
+pointing to her ear-rings. "He loved ME," she cried. "He put them in with
+his own hands--told me to wear them always. And he kissed me--kissed me
+good-bye in the street, where every one could see. He kissed me," she
+sobbed. "No other man shall ever do that."
+
+"Ah, that he did!" said a voice level with Zuleika. It was the voice of
+Mrs. Batch, who a few moments ago had opened the door for her departing
+guests.
+
+"Ah, that he did!" echoed the guests.
+
+"Never mind them, Miss Dobson," cried Noaks, and at the sound of his
+voice Mrs. Batch rushed into the middle of the road, to gaze up. "_I_
+love you. Think what you will of me. I--"
+
+"You!" flashed Zuleika. "As for you, little Sir Lily Liver, leaning
+out there, and, I frankly tell you, looking like nothing so much as a
+gargoyle hewn by a drunken stone-mason for the adornment of a Methodist
+Chapel in one of the vilest suburbs of Leeds or Wigan, I do but
+felicitate the river-god and his nymphs that their water was saved
+to-day by your cowardice from the contamination of your plunge."
+
+"Shame on you, Mr. Noaks," said Mrs. Batch, "making believe you were
+dead--"
+
+"Shame!" screamed Clarence, who had darted out into the fray.
+
+"I found him hiding behind the curtain," chimed in Katie.
+
+"And I a mother to him!" said Mrs. Batch, shaking her fist. "'What is
+life without love?' indeed! Oh, the cowardly, underhand--"
+
+"Wretch," prompted her cronies.
+
+"Let's kick him out of the house!" suggested Clarence, dancing for joy.
+
+Zuleika, smiling brilliantly down at the boy, said "Just you run up and
+fight him!"
+
+"Right you are," he answered, with a look of knightly devotion, and
+darted back into the house.
+
+"No escape!" she cried up to Noaks. "You've got to fight him now. He and
+you are just about evenly matched, I fancy."
+
+But, grimly enough, Zuleika's estimate was never put to the test. Is
+it harder for a coward to fight with his fists than to kill himself? Or
+again, is it easier for him to die than to endure a prolonged cross-fire
+of women's wrath and scorn? This I know: that in the life of even the
+least and meanest of us there is somewhere one fine moment--one high
+chance not missed. I like to think it was by operation of this law that
+Noaks had now clambered out upon the window-sill, silencing, sickening,
+scattering like chaff the women beneath him.
+
+He was already not there when Clarence bounded into the room. "Come on!"
+yelled the boy, first thrusting his head behind the door, then diving
+beneath the table, then plucking aside either window-curtain, vowing
+vengeance.
+
+Vengeance was not his. Down on the road without, not yet looked at but
+by the steadfast eyes of the Emperors, the last of the undergraduates
+lay dead; and fleet-footed Zuleika, with her fingers still pressed to
+her ears, had taken full toll now.
+
+
+
+
+XXIII
+
+Twisting and turning in her flight, with wild eyes that fearfully
+retained the image of that small man gathering himself to spring,
+Zuleika found herself suddenly where she could no further go.
+
+She was in that grim ravine by which you approach New College. At sight
+of the great shut gate before her, she halted, and swerved to the wall.
+She set her brow and the palms of her hands against the cold stones. She
+threw back her head, and beat the stones with her fists.
+
+It was not only what she had seen, it was what she had barely saved
+herself from seeing, and what she had not quite saved herself from
+hearing, that she strove so piteously to forget. She was sorrier for
+herself, angrier, than she had been last night when the Duke laid hands
+on her. Why should every day have a horrible ending? Last night she
+had avenged herself. To-night's outrage was all the more foul and mean
+because of its certain immunity. And the fact that she had in some
+measure brought it on herself did but whip her rage. What a fool she
+had been to taunt the man! Yet no, how could she have foreseen that he
+would--do THAT? How could she have guessed that he, who had not dared
+seemly death for her in the gentle river, would dare--THAT?
+
+She shuddered the more as she now remembered that this very day, in that
+very house, she had invited for her very self a similar fate. What if
+the Duke had taken her word? Strange! she wouldn't have flinched then.
+She had felt no horror at the notion of such a death. And thus she now
+saw Noaks' conduct in a new light--saw that he had but wished to prove
+his love, not at all to affront her. This understanding quickly steadied
+her nerves. She did not need now to forget what she had seen; and, not
+needing to forget it--thus are our brains fashioned--she was able to
+forget it.
+
+But by removal of one load her soul was but bared for a more grievous
+other. Her memory harked back to what had preceded the crisis. She
+recalled those moments of doomed rapture in which her heart had soared
+up to the apocalyptic window--recalled how, all the while she was
+speaking to the man there, she had been chafed by the inadequacy of
+language. Oh, how much more she had meant than she could express! Oh,
+the ecstasy of that self-surrender! And the brevity of it! the sudden
+odious awakening! Thrice in this Oxford she had been duped. Thrice all
+that was fine and sweet in her had leapt forth, only to be scourged back
+into hiding. Poor heart inhibited! She gazed about her. The stone alley
+she had come into, the terrible shut gate, were for her a visible symbol
+of the destiny she had to put up with. Wringing her hands, she hastened
+along the way she had come. She vowed she would never again set foot in
+Oxford. She wished herself out of the hateful little city to-night. She
+even wished herself dead.
+
+She deserved to suffer, you say? Maybe. I merely state that she did
+suffer.
+
+Emerging into Catherine Street, she knew whereabouts she was, and made
+straight for Judas, turning away her eyes as she skirted the Broad, that
+place of mocked hopes and shattered ideals.
+
+Coming into Judas Street, she remembered the scene of yesterday--the
+happy man with her, the noise of the vast happy crowd. She suffered in
+a worse form what she had suffered in the gallery of the Hall. For
+now--did I not say she was not without imagination?--her self-pity was
+sharpened by remorse for the hundreds of homes robbed. She realised the
+truth of what the poor Duke had once said to her: she was a danger in
+the world... Aye, and all the more dire now. What if the youth of all
+Europe were moved by Oxford's example? That was a horribly possible
+thing. It must be reckoned with. It must be averted. She must not show
+herself to men. She must find some hiding-place, and there abide. Were
+this a hardship? she asked herself. Was she not sickened for ever of
+men's homage? And was it not clear now that the absorbing need in her
+soul, the need to love, would never--except for a brief while, now and
+then, and by an unfortunate misunderstanding--be fulfilled?
+
+So long ago that you may not remember, I compared her favourably with
+the shepherdess Marcella, and pleaded her capacity for passion as an
+excuse for her remaining at large. I hope you will now, despite your
+rather evident animus against her, set this to her credit: that she did,
+so soon as she realised the hopelessness of her case, make just that
+decision which I blamed Marcella for not making at the outset. It was as
+she stood on the Warden's door-step that she decided to take the veil.
+
+With something of a conventual hush in her voice, she said to the
+butler, "Please tell my maid that we are leaving by a very early train
+to-morrow, and that she must pack my things to-night."
+
+"Very well, Miss," said the butler. "The Warden," he added, "is in the
+study, Miss, and was asking for you."
+
+She could face her grandfather without a tremour--now. She would hear
+meekly whatever reproaches he might have for her, but their sting was
+already drawn by the surprise she had in store for him.
+
+It was he who seemed a trifle nervous. In his
+
+"Well, did you come and peep down from the gallery?" there was a
+distinct tremour.
+
+Throwing aside her cloak, she went quickly to him, and laid a hand on
+the lapel of his coat. "Poor grand-papa!" she said.
+
+"Nonsense, my dear child," he replied, disengaging himself. "I didn't
+give it a thought. If the young men chose to be so silly as to stay
+away, I--I--"
+
+"Grand-papa, haven't you been told YET?"
+
+"Told? I am a Gallio for such follies. I didn't inquire."
+
+"But (forgive me, grand-papa, if I seem to you, for the moment, pert)
+you are Warden here. It is your duty, even your privilege, to GUARD.
+Is it not? Well, I grant you the adage that it is useless to bolt the
+stable door when the horse has been stolen. But what shall be said of
+the ostler who doesn't know--won't even 'inquire' whether--the horse HAS
+been stolen, grand-papa?"
+
+"You speak in riddles, Zuleika."
+
+"I wish with all my heart I need not tell you the answers. I think I
+have a very real grievance against your staff--or whatever it is you
+call your subordinates here. I go so far as to dub them dodderers. And
+I shall the better justify that term by not shirking the duty they have
+left undone. The reason why there were no undergraduates in your Hall
+to-night is that they were all dead."
+
+"Dead?" he gasped. "Dead? It is disgraceful that I was not told. What
+did they die of?"
+
+"Of me."
+
+"Of you?"
+
+"Yes. I am an epidemic, grand-papa, a scourge, such as the world has not
+known. Those young men drowned themselves for love of me."
+
+He came towards her. "Do you realise, girl, what this means to me? I am
+an old man. For more than half a century I have known this College. To
+it, when my wife died, I gave all that there was of heart left in me.
+For thirty years I have been Warden; and in that charge has been all my
+pride. I have had no thought but for this great College, its honour and
+prosperity. More than once lately have I asked myself whether my eyes
+were growing dim, my hand less steady. 'No' was my answer, and again
+'No.' And thus it is that I have lingered on to let Judas be struck down
+from its high eminence, shamed in the eyes of England--a College for
+ever tainted, and of evil omen." He raised his head. "The disgrace to
+myself is nothing. I care not how parents shall rage against me, and the
+Heads of other Colleges make merry over my decrepitude. It is because
+you have wrought the downfall of Judas that I am about to lay my undying
+curse on you."
+
+"You mustn't do that!" she cried. "It would be a sort of sacrilege. I am
+going to be a nun. Besides, why should you? I can quite well understand
+your feeling for Judas. But how is Judas more disgraced than any other
+College? If it were only the Judas undergraduates who had--"
+
+"There were others?" cried the Warden. "How many?"
+
+"All. All the boys from all the Colleges."
+
+The Warden heaved a deep sigh. "Of course," he said, "this changes the
+aspect of the whole matter. I wish you had made it clear at once. You
+gave me a very great shock," he said sinking into his arm-chair, "and I
+have not yet recovered. You must study the art of exposition."
+
+"That will depend on the rules of the convent."
+
+"Ah, I forgot that you were going into a convent. Anglican, I hope?"
+
+Anglican, she supposed.
+
+"As a young man," he said, "I saw much of dear old Dr. Pusey. It might
+have somewhat reconciled him to my marriage if he had known that my
+grand-daughter would take the veil." He adjusted his glasses, and looked
+at her. "Are you sure you have a vocation?"
+
+"Yes. I want to be out of the world. I want to do no more harm."
+
+He eyed her musingly. "That," he said, "is rather a revulsion than
+a vocation. I remember that I ventured to point out to Dr. Pusey the
+difference between those two things, when he was almost persuading me
+to enter a Brotherhood founded by one of his friends. It may be that the
+world would be well rid of you, my dear child. But it is not the world
+only that we must consider. Would you grace the recesses of the Church?"
+
+"I could but try," said Zuleika.
+
+"'You could but try' are the very words Dr. Pusey used to me. I ventured
+to say that in such a matter effort itself was a stigma of unfitness.
+For all my moods of revulsion, I knew that my place was in the world. I
+stayed there."
+
+"But suppose, grand-papa"--and, seeing in fancy the vast agitated
+flotilla of crinolines, she could not forbear a smile--"suppose all the
+young ladies of that period had drowned themselves for love of you?"
+
+Her smile seemed to nettle the Warden. "I was greatly admired," he said.
+"Greatly," he repeated.
+
+"And you liked that, grand-papa?"
+
+"Yes, my dear. Yes, I am afraid I did. But I never encouraged it."
+
+"Your own heart was never touched?"
+
+"Never, until I met Laura Frith."
+
+"Who was she?"
+
+"She was my future wife."
+
+"And how was it you singled her out from the rest? Was she very
+beautiful?"
+
+"No. It cannot be said that she was beautiful. Indeed, she was accounted
+plain. I think it was her great dignity that attracted me. She did not
+smile archly at me, nor shake her ringlets. In those days it was the
+fashion for young ladies to embroider slippers for such men in holy
+orders as best pleased their fancy. I received hundreds--thousands--of
+such slippers. But never a pair from Laura Frith."
+
+"She did not love you?" asked Zuleika, who had seated herself on the
+floor at her grandfather's feet.
+
+I concluded that she did not. It interested me very greatly. It fired
+me.
+
+"Was she incapable of love?"
+
+"No, it was notorious in her circle that she had loved often, but loved
+in vain."
+
+"Why did she marry you?"
+
+"I think she was fatigued by my importunities. She was not very strong.
+But it may be that she married me out of pique. She never told me. I did
+not inquire."
+
+"Yet you were very happy with her?"
+
+"While she lived, I was ideally happy."
+
+The young woman stretched out a hand, and laid it on the clasped hands
+of the old man. He sat gazing into the past. She was silent for a while;
+and in her eyes, still fixed intently on his face, there were tears.
+
+"Grand-papa dear"--but there were tears in her voice, too.
+
+"My child, you don't understand. If I had needed pity--"
+
+"I do understand--so well. I wasn't pitying you, dear, I was envying you
+a little."
+
+"Me?--an old man with only the remembrance of happiness?"
+
+"You, who have had happiness granted to you. That isn't what made me
+cry, though. I cried because I was glad. You and I, with all this great
+span of years between us, and yet--so wonderfully alike! I had always
+thought of myself as a creature utterly apart."
+
+"Ah, that is how all young people think of themselves. It wears off.
+Tell me about this wonderful resemblance of ours."
+
+He sat attentive while she described her heart to him. But when, at the
+close of her confidences, she said, "So you see it's a case of sheer
+heredity, grand-papa," the word "Fiddlesticks!" would out.
+
+"Forgive me, my dear," he said, patting her hand. "I was very much
+interested. But I do believe young people are even more staggered by
+themselves than they were in my day. And then, all these grand theories
+they fall back on! Heredity... as if there were something to baffle us
+in the fact of a young woman liking to be admired! And as if it were
+passing strange of her to reserve her heart for a man she can respect
+and look up to! And as if a man's indifference to her were not of all
+things the likeliest to give her a sense of inferiority to him! You and
+I, my dear, may in some respects be very queer people, but in the matter
+of the affections we are ordinary enough."
+
+"Oh grand-papa, do you really mean that?" she cried eagerly.
+
+"At my age, a man husbands his resources. He says nothing that he does
+not really mean. The indifference between you and other young women
+is that which lay also between me and other young men: a special
+attractiveness... Thousands of slippers, did I say? Tens of thousands. I
+had hoarded them with a fatuous pride. On the evening of my betrothal I
+made a bonfire of them, visible from three counties. I danced round it
+all night." And from his old eyes darted even now the reflections of
+those flames.
+
+"Glorious!" whispered Zuleika. "But ah," she said, rising to her feet,
+"tell me no more of it--poor me! You see, it isn't a mere special
+attractiveness that _I_ have. _I_ am irresistible."
+
+"A daring statement, my child--very hard to prove."
+
+"Hasn't it been proved up to the hilt to-day?"
+
+"To-day?... Ah, and so they did really all drown themselves for you?...
+Dear, dear!... The Duke--he, too?"
+
+"He set the example."
+
+"No! You don't say so! He was a greatly-gifted young man--a true
+ornament to the College. But he always seemed to me rather--what shall I
+say?--inhuman... I remember now that he did seem rather excited when
+he came to the concert last night and you weren't yet there... You are
+quite sure you were the cause of his death?"
+
+"Quite," said Zuleika, marvelling at the lie--or fib, rather: he had
+been GOING to die for her. But why not have told the truth? Was it
+possible, she wondered, that her wretched vanity had survived her
+renunciation of the world? Why had she so resented just now the doubt
+cast on that irresistibility which had blighted and cranked her whole
+life?
+
+"Well, my dear," said the Warden, "I confess that I am
+amazed--astounded." Again he adjusted his glasses, and looked at her.
+
+She found herself moving slowly around the study, with the gait of a
+mannequin in a dress-maker's show-room. She tried to stop this; but her
+body seemed to be quite beyond control of her mind. It had the insolence
+to go ambling on its own account. "Little space you'll have in a convent
+cell," snarled her mind vindictively. Her body paid no heed whatever.
+
+Her grandfather, leaning back in his chair, gazed at the ceiling, and
+meditatively tapped the finger-tips of one hand against those of the
+other. "Sister Zuleika," he presently said to the ceiling.
+
+"Well? and what is there so--so ridiculous in"--but the rest was lost in
+trill after trill of laughter; and these were then lost in sobs.
+
+The Warden had risen from his chair. "My dear," he said, "I wasn't
+laughing. I was only--trying to imagine. If you really want to retire
+from--"
+
+"I do," moaned Zuleika.
+
+"Then perhaps--"
+
+"But I don't," she wailed.
+
+"Of course, you don't, my dear."
+
+"Why, of course?"
+
+"Come, you are tired, my poor child. That is very natural after this
+wonderful, this historic day. Come dry your eyes. There, that's better.
+To-morrow--"
+
+"I do believe you're a little proud of me."
+
+"Heaven forgive me, I believe I am. A grandfather's heart--But there,
+good night, my dear. Let me light your candle."
+
+She took her cloak, and followed him out to the hall table. There she
+mentioned that she was going away early to-morrow.
+
+"To the convent?" he slyly asked.
+
+"Ah, don't tease me, grand-papa."
+
+"Well, I am sorry you are going away, my dear. But perhaps, in the
+circumstances, it is best. You must come and stay here again, later
+on," he said, handing her the lit candle. "Not in term-time, though," he
+added.
+
+"No," she echoed, "not in term-time."
+
+
+
+
+XXIV
+
+From the shifting gloom of the stair-case to the soft radiance cast
+through the open door of her bedroom was for poor Zuleika an almost
+heartening transition. She stood awhile on the threshold, watching
+Melisande dart to and fro like a shuttle across a loom. Already the main
+part of the packing seemed to have been accomplished. The wardrobe was a
+yawning void, the carpet was here and there visible, many of the
+trunks were already brimming and foaming over... Once more on the road!
+Somewhat as, when beneath the stars the great tent had been struck, and
+the lions were growling in their vans, and the horses were pawing the
+stamped grass and whinnying, and the elephants trumpeting, Zuleika's
+mother may often have felt within her a wan exhilaration, so now did the
+heart of that mother's child rise and flutter amidst the familiar bustle
+of "being off." Weary she was of the world, and angry she was at not
+being, after all, good enough for something better. And yet--well, at
+least, good-bye to Oxford!
+
+She envied Melisande, so nimbly and cheerfully laborious till the day
+should come when her betrothed had saved enough to start a little cafe
+of his own and make her his bride and dame de comptoir. Oh, to have a
+purpose, a prospect, a stake in the world, as this faithful soul had!
+
+"Can I help you at all, Melisande?" she asked, picking her way across
+the strewn floor.
+
+Melisande, patting down a pile of chiffon, seemed to be amused at such
+a notion. "Mademoiselle has her own art. Do I mix myself in that?" she
+cried, waving one hand towards the great malachite casket.
+
+Zuleika looked at the casket, and then very gratefully at the maid. Her
+art--how had she forgotten that? Here was solace, purpose. She would
+work as she had never worked yet. She KNEW that she had it in her to do
+better than she had ever done. She confessed to herself that she had too
+often been slack in the matter of practice and rehearsal, trusting her
+personal magnetism to carry her through. Only last night she had badly
+fumbled, more than once. Her bravura business with the Demon Egg-Cup had
+been simply vile. The audience hadn't noticed it, perhaps, but she
+had. Now she would perfect herself. Barely a fortnight now before her
+engagement at the Folies Bergeres! What if--no, she must not think of
+that! But the thought insisted. What if she essayed for Paris that
+which again and again she had meant to graft on to her repertory--the
+Provoking Thimble?
+
+She flushed at the possibility. What if her whole present repertory were
+but a passing phase in her art--a mere beginning--an earlier manner? She
+remembered how marvellously last night she had manipulated the ear-rings
+and the studs. Then lo! the light died out of her eyes, and her face
+grew rigid. That memory had brought other memories in its wake.
+
+For her, when she fled the Broad, Noaks' window had blotted out all
+else. Now she saw again that higher window, saw that girl flaunting her
+ear-rings, gibing down at her. "He put them in with his own hands!"--the
+words rang again in her ears, making her cheeks tingle. Oh, he had
+thought it a very clever thing to do, no doubt--a splendid little
+revenge, something after his own heart! "And he kissed me in the open
+street"--excellent, excellent! She ground her teeth. And these doings
+must have been fresh in his mind when she overtook him and walked with
+him to the house-boat! Infamous! And she had then been wearing his
+studs! She drew his attention to them when--
+
+Her jewel-box stood open, to receive the jewels she wore to-night. She
+went very calmly to it. There, in a corner of the topmost tray, rested
+the two great white pearls--the pearls which, in one way and another,
+had meant so much to her.
+
+"Melisande!"
+
+"Mademoiselle?"
+
+"When we go to Paris, would you like to make a little present to your
+fiance?"
+
+"Je voudrais bien, mademoiselle."
+
+"Then you shall give him these," said Zuleika, holding out the two
+studs.
+
+"Mais jamais de la vie! Chez Tourtel tout le monde le dirait
+millionaire. Un garcon de cafe qui porte au plastron des perles
+pareilles--merci!"
+
+"Tell him he may tell every one that they were given to me by the late
+Duke of Dorset, and given by me to you, and by you to him."
+
+"Mais--" The protest died on Melisande's lips. Suddenly she had ceased
+to see the pearls as trinkets finite and inapposite--saw them as things
+presently transmutable into little marble tables, bocks, dominos,
+absinthes au sucre, shiny black portfolios with weekly journals in them,
+yellow staves with daily journals flapping from them, vermouths secs,
+vermouths cassis...
+
+"Mademoiselle is too amiable," she said, taking the pearls.
+
+And certainly, just then, Zuleika was looking very amiable indeed. The
+look was transient. Nothing, she reflected, could undo what the Duke had
+done. That hateful, impudent girl would take good care that every one
+should know. "He put them in with his own hands." HER ear-rings! "He
+kissed me in the public street. He loved me"... Well, he had called out
+"Zuleika!" and every one around had heard him. That was something. But
+how glad all the old women in the world would be to shake their heads
+and say "Oh, no, my dear, believe me! It wasn't anything to do with HER.
+I'm told on the very best authority," and so forth, and so on. She knew
+he had told any number of undergraduates he was going to die for her.
+But they, poor fellows, could not bear witness. And good heavens!
+If there were a doubt as to the Duke's motive, why not doubts as to
+theirs?... But many of them had called out "Zuleika!" too. And of course
+any really impartial person who knew anything at all about the matter at
+first hand would be sure in his own mind that it was perfectly absurd to
+pretend that the whole thing wasn't entirely and absolutely for her...
+And of course some of the men must have left written evidence of their
+intention. She remembered that at The MacQuern's to-day was a Mr.
+Craddock, who had made a will in her favour and wanted to read it aloud
+to her in the middle of luncheon. Oh, there would be proof positive as
+to many of the men. But of the others it would be said that they died
+in trying to rescue their comrades. There would be all sorts of silly
+far-fetched theories, and downright lies that couldn't be disproved...
+
+"Melisande, that crackling of tissue paper is driving me mad! Do leave
+off! Can't you see that I am waiting to be undressed?"
+
+The maid hastened to her side, and with quick light fingers began to
+undress her. "Mademoiselle va bien dormir--ca se voit," she purred.
+
+"I shan't," said Zuleika.
+
+Nevertheless, it was soothing to be undressed, and yet more soothing
+anon to sit merely night-gowned before the mirror, while, slowly and
+gently, strongly and strand by strand, Melisande brushed her hair.
+
+After all, it didn't so much matter what the world thought. Let the
+world whisper and insinuate what it would. To slur and sully, to
+belittle and drag down--that was what the world always tried to do.
+But great things were still great, and fair things still fair. With no
+thought for the world's opinion had these men gone down to the water
+to-day. Their deed was for her and themselves alone. It had sufficed
+them. Should it not suffice her? It did, oh it did. She was a wretch to
+have repined.
+
+At a gesture from her, Melisande brought to a close the rhythmical
+ministrations, and--using no tissue paper this time--did what was yet to
+be done among the trunks.
+
+"WE know, you and I," Zuleika whispered to the adorable creature in the
+mirror; and the adorable creature gave back her nod and smile.
+
+THEY knew, these two.
+
+Yet, in their happiness, rose and floated a shadow between them. It was
+the ghost of that one man who--THEY knew--had died irrelevantly, with a
+cold heart.
+
+Came also the horrid little ghost of one who had died late and unseemly.
+
+And now, thick and fast, swept a whole multitude of other ghosts, the
+ghosts of all them who, being dead, could not die again; the poor ghosts
+of them who had done what they could, and could do no more.
+
+No more? Was it not enough? The lady in the mirror gazed at the lady
+in the room, reproachfully at first, then--for were they not
+sisters?--relentingly, then pityingly. Each of the two covered her face
+with her hands.
+
+And there recurred, as by stealth, to the lady in the room a thought
+that had assailed her not long ago in Judas Street... a thought about
+the power of example...
+
+And now, with pent breath and fast-beating heart, she stood staring at
+the lady of the mirror, without seeing her; and now she wheeled round
+and swiftly glided to that little table on which stood her two books.
+She snatched Bradshaw.
+
+We always intervene between Bradshaw and any one whom we see consulting
+him. "Mademoiselle will permit me to find that which she seeks?" asked
+Melisande.
+
+"Be quiet," said Zuleika. We always repulse, at first, any one who
+intervenes between us and Bradshaw.
+
+We always end by accepting the intervention. "See if it is possible to
+go direct from here to Cambridge," said Zuleika, handing the book on.
+"If it isn't, then--well, see how to get there."
+
+We never have any confidence in the intervener. Nor is the intervener,
+when it comes to the point, sanguine. With mistrust mounting to
+exasperation Zuleika sat watching the faint and frantic researches of
+her maid.
+
+"Stop!" she said suddenly. "I have a much better idea. Go down very
+early to the station. See the station-master. Order me a special train.
+For ten o'clock, say."
+
+Rising, she stretched her arms above her head. Her lips parted in a
+yawn, met in a smile. With both hands she pushed back her hair from her
+shoulders, and twisted it into a loose knot. Very lightly she slipped up
+into bed, and very soon she was asleep.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Zuleika Dobson, by Max Beerbohm
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+*The Project Gutenberg Etext of Zuleika Dobson, by Max Beerbohm*
+#5 in our series by Max Beerbohm
+
+
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+Zuleika Dobson
+
+by Max Beerbohm
+
+August, 1999  [Etext #1845]
+
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+*The Project Gutenberg Etext of Zuleika Dobson, by Max Beerbohm*
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+This Etext prepared by Judy Boss, of Omaha, NE
+
+
+
+
+
+Note: I have made the following changes to the text:
+PAGE  LINE  ORIGINAL            CHANGED TO
+viii    20  characterteristic   characteristic
+  ix    22  important,          important;
+  ix    28  frailities          frailties
+  76    30  her                 her.
+ 133    22  Gredden             Greddon
+ 154    22  cast-black          cast-back
+ 275    28  enter               enter-
+ 277     5  hand                hand.
+ 340    23  robed.              robbed.
+ 354    13  Mais                "Mais
+I have also transcribed the Greek on pages 99 and 187.
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+BY
+MAX BEERBOHM
+
+INTRODUCTION BY
+FRANCIS HACKETT
+
+
+
+
+ILLI
+ALMAE MATRI
+
+
+[page intentionally blank]
+
+
+INTRODUCTION
+
+THE promise of a full-length novel by the au-
+thor of "The Happy Hypocrite" had an intense
+effect on Beerbohm "addicts" in 1911. Those
+who did not share in the excitement at the time
+may be bored now by being told how keen it was,
+yet it was indisputably keen, all the more so for
+being narrow and literary. A first play by H. G.
+Wells, a book of lyrics by Bernard Shaw, a
+comedy by Theodore Roosevelt, a volume of lull-
+abies by Herbert Asquith -- the announcement of
+such unexpected works might whet the simple and
+greedy curiosity of the large public, but the large
+public would never have a titillation that would
+exceed the Beerbohmites' titillation with "Zu-
+leika Dobson." Only a few hundred in all the
+Americas may have felt it, because only a few
+hundred could have been reading his Works and
+his <i>Saturday Review</i> criticisms. It was not the
+less a delicious excitement, and it was one which
+he amply gratified.
+     But not, I think, as we supposed he would. So
+much of his criticism was admiration of sober
+realism that we might easily have hoped for, or
+
+v
+
+
+vi        INTRODUCTION
+
+feared for, a realistic novel; or, if not that, a
+tenuous analysis in the mode of Henry James.
+What the Beerbohmite forgot when he heard that
+his author had written a novel was his author's
+eminence as a caricaturist.
+     How "great" is Max Beerbohm's eminence as
+a caricaturist I do not know. Somewhere, I sup-
+pose, there is an &aelig;sthetic Lloyds where the sure-
+enough rating of all the poets, painters, archi-
+tects, sculptors, novelists and interior decorators
+is to be found, determined by spiritual insurance
+agents; and there one may find written down the
+exact percentage of importance to be given to
+Max's cartoons. In ignorance of this rating it is
+rash to call anyone eminent, but the memory of
+Max's drawings is so persistent, the means he
+employs so telling and the end so achieved, that
+no Englishman of his day seems to come near
+him. Is this because we who write about a cari-
+cature are literary? Is it because Max Beerbohm
+is caricaturing Yeats and Moore and Shaw and
+Bennett and Tennyson, instead of the war cabi-
+nets and the secret-treaty statesmen and the hu-
+mors of Zionism? Perhaps. But no one who
+has felt a sore spot respond to the caustic of his
+pencil can be persuaded that it is familiarity of
+subject-matter which makes him seem a genius in
+caricature. There is something else, a precious
+sense of human proportion as well as literary pro-
+portion. This permits one to insist on him be-
+
+
+INTRODUCTION         vii
+
+yond the literary reservation, to say that he stands
+high and alone. The curious thing, however, is
+to read the man who revealed for the eye the
+discrepancy between Queen Victoria and her regal
+furnitures. Curious, because you find in his verbal
+domain precisely the same kind of inclination and
+the same kind of power. "Zuleika Dobson" is
+many sorts of a novel, but first and foremost it
+is the emanation of a most subtle and deadly cari-
+caturist, a "shrewd and knavish sprite" amongst
+mortal men.
+     There is, according to the sagacious, a secret
+excellence in "Zuleika Dobson." They see in it a
+caricature of a specific classical theme. If one
+have not the clue to this heroical story, they mur-
+mur, the finer points of the novel are lost. This is
+impressive, but it is consoling to discover how
+such enjoyment is left for the ordinary open-
+faced unclassical citizen. No one can deny to
+"Zuleika Dobson" its consummate literary flavor.
+Its literary flavor is one of its perfections. But
+literary flavor is one of the most popular sources
+of pleasure, and the strength of "Zuleika" is such
+that no particular legend, no definite mythology,
+is needed to give it edge. Classic as the Duke
+of Dorset may be ("fourteenth Duke of Dorset,
+Marquis of Dorset, Earl of Grove, Earl of Chas-
+termaine, Viscount Brewsby, Baron Grove, Baron
+Petstrap, and Baron Wolock, in the Peerage of
+England") the charm of his portrayal, both as
+
+
+viii       INTRODUCTION
+
+a personage by himself and as the desperate lover
+of Zuleika, is the appreciation, the devilish ap-
+preciation, Max Beerbohm exhibits of the eternal
+verity, <i>noblesse oblige</i>. There may be sly rem-
+iniscences of Homer in the heroics of the Duke
+of Dorset, fittingly displayed at Oxford, yet
+Homer is only a lamp to cast another silhouette
+of the duke. By himself he is complete, a model
+of such austere masculine nobility as only our
+great receding civilization could have produced.
+     Zuleika, of course, is herself a romantic por-
+trait of the first order, and it is perfectly easy to
+believe that she turned the head of Oxford youth
+("youth, youth!"), in the manner that Mr. Beer-
+bohm patiently and scrupulously describes. But
+while Zuleika has the imperishable attributes of a
+sex enslaving or enslaved, illustrated with a cruel
+disregard of undergraduate life at the beginning
+of Chapter XXI, there is something even more
+sexually characteristic in Dorset's male style
+and posture, his nature lofty and nonpareil.
+Without the noble Dorset to mark the abysms
+of tragedy, Oxford would not be quite Oxford
+nor Zuleika so Zuleika. And yet beyond Dorset
+and Zuleika, Noaks and Oover and Mrs. Batch
+and the Warden, it is Oxford, "that mysterious,
+inenubilable spirit, spirit of Oxford," which gives
+the novel its really deep intonation. A love such
+as Mr. Beerbohm bears Oxford could alone have
+steeped the book in sentiment as well as satire,
+
+
+INTRODUCTION      ix
+
+beauty as well as mockery -- and beauty the book
+possesses. The Rhodes scholar Oover may seem
+to an American the best example of the author's
+sunny malice, but that is probably because it is
+the sententious Oover we know best, Oover for
+whom Max Beerbohm has defied the English rule
+of impercipience, to whose exact idiom he has
+actually listened. One may be sure he has listened
+just as faithfully to The MacQuern, and the
+Junta ("a member of the Junta can do no
+wrong") suggests a most sensitive accuracy in
+this country of undergraduate shibboleths, Yale
+Locks and Keys.
+     Only one thing "Zuleika Dobson" lacks that a
+regular novel has, and that is dullness. It is a long
+story taken at the pace of a sprint, its wit relent-
+lessly sustained. But how varied, how ingenious
+in incident, how full of funny gesture and dry dis-
+crimination, is this undergraduate epic; with such
+a gay gallopade of mortality and such decorative
+archaism of expression, and such a solicitude for
+words. This last may not seem important; it is
+still an important constituent of its author. To
+most writers words are public characters, to be
+handled as the public is handled by thick-skinned
+officials, a mob to be regimented and shoved on.
+For Max Beerbohm words are persons with their
+own physiognomies, with their own frailties and
+proclivities, to be humored and made much of.
+His delicacy with words, however, is not limp-
+
+
+x        INTRODUCTION
+
+handed. It is part of that strong sensibility which
+makes him what he is.
+     And that, I should say, is a spirit at one with
+sweet Puck, "merry wanderer of the night."
+Whether in "Zuleika" or his writings on another
+scale, he is one of the few pure comedic spirits
+of his country. He has the gilt of holding the
+mirror up to self-portraiture, of proportioning the
+heart and the head. To some it may seem that
+Max Beerbohm is "precious" in the sense of man-
+nered and artificial, and that the best he does is
+to carve cherry stones. This is a misinterpretation
+of the best foolery of our time. It is not for noth-
+ing that the subtitle of "The Happy Hypocrite"
+is "a fairy tale for tired men." Mr. Beerbohm
+needs the license of labelled entertainment. But
+the fate that attended one of his books issued in
+the United States, burned in the end as not mer-
+chantable, is a reproach to the public rather than
+the author, a fantasy on popular taste. His
+dandyism, his daintiness, his restraint and pre-
+cision of gesture, have all such inward laughter in
+them that they are irresistible, for the reader who
+has pounded literary pavements and been jostled
+along main traveled roads. To say this may be
+clumsy when Max Beerbohm can be as full of
+burlesque as follows:
+     "The very birds in the trees of Trinity were
+oppressed and did not twitter. The very leaves
+did not whisper.
+
+
+INTRODUCTION        xi
+
+     "Out through the railings, and across the road,
+prowled a skimpy and dingy cat, trying to look
+like a tiger.
+     "It was all very sinister and dismal."
+     There are people, in spite of everything, who
+still cannot see that cat, or see Max Beerbohm.
+That is why downright emphasis on his amusing-
+ness, on any subtle man's amusingness, has claims
+to be forgiven. But the test, the reward, is wait-
+ing for the reader.
+
+                                 FRANCIS HACKETT.
+
+
+
+[page intentionally blank]
+
+
+<b>ZULEIKA DOBSON</b>
+
+
+[page intentionally blank]
+
+
+
+<b>ZULEIKA DOBSON</b>
+
+
+I
+
+THAT old bell, presage of a train, had just
+sounded through Oxford station; and the under-
+graduates who were waiting there, gay figures
+in tweed or flannel, moved to the margin of the
+platform and gazed idly up the line. Young
+and careless, in the glow of the afternoon sun-
+shine, they struck a sharp note of incongruity
+with the worn boards they stood on, with the
+fading signals and grey eternal walls of that an-
+tique station, which, familiar to them and insig-
+nificant, does yet whisper to the tourist the last
+enchantments of the Middle Age.
+     At the door of the first-class waiting-room,
+aloof and venerable, stood the Warden of Judas.
+An ebon pillar of tradition seemed he, in his
+garb of old-fashioned cleric. Aloft, between the
+wide brim of his silk hat and the white extent
+of his shirt-front, appeared those eyes which
+hawks, that nose which eagles, had often envied.
+He supported his years on an ebon stick. He
+alone was worthy of the background.
+     Came a whistle from the distance. The breast
+of an engine was descried, and a long train curving
+
+7
+
+
+8       ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+after it, under a flight of smoke. It grew and
+grew. Louder and louder, its noise foreran it.
+It became a furious, enormous monster, and, with
+an instinct for safety, all men receded from the
+platform's margin. (Yet came there with it, un-
+known to them, a danger far more terrible than
+itself.)  Into the station it came blustering, with
+cloud and clangour. Ere it had yet stopped, the
+door of one carriage flew open, and from it, in a
+white travelling dress, in a toque a-twinkle with
+fine diamonds, a lithe and radiant creature slipped
+nimbly down to the platform.
+     A cynosure indeed! A hundred eyes were fixed
+on her, and half as many hearts lost to her. The
+Warden of Judas himself had mounted on his
+nose a pair of black-rimmed glasses. Him espy-
+ing, the nymph darted in his direction. The
+throng made way for her. She was at his side.
+     "Grandpapa!" she cried, and kissed the old
+man on either cheek. (Not a youth there but
+would have bartered fifty years of his future for
+that salute.)
+     "My dear Zuleika," he said, "welcome to Ox-
+ford! Have you no luggage?"
+     "Heaps!" she answered. "And a maid who
+will find it."
+     "Then," said the Warden, "let us drive
+straight to College." He offered her his arm, and
+they proceeded slowly to the entrance. She
+chatted gaily, blushing not in the long avenue of
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON       9
+
+eyes she passed through. All the youths, under
+her spell, were now quite oblivious of the rela-
+tives they had come to meet. Parents, sisters,
+cousins, ran unclaimed about the platform. Un-
+dutiful, all the youths were forming a serried
+suite to their enchantress. In silence they fol-
+lowed her. They saw her leap into the Warden's
+landau, they saw the Warden seat himself upon
+her left. Nor was it until the landau was lost
+to sight that they turned -- how slowly, and with
+how bad a grace! -- to look for their relatives.
+     Through those slums which connect Oxford
+with the world, the landau rolled on towards
+Judas. Not many youths occurred, for nearly all
+-- it was the Monday of Eights Week -- were
+down by the river, cheering the crews. There
+did, however, come spurring by, on a polo-pony,
+a very splendid youth. His straw hat was en-
+circled with a riband of blue and white, and he
+raised it to the Warden.
+     "That," said the Warden, "is the Duke of
+Dorset, a member of my College. He dines at
+my table to-night."
+     Zuleika, turning to regard his Grace, saw that
+he had not reined in and was not even glancing
+back at her over his shoulder. She gave a little
+start of dismay, but scarcely had her lips pouted
+ere they curved to a smile -- a smile with no
+malice in its corners.
+     As the landau rolled into "the Corn," another
+
+
+10      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+youth -- a pedestrian, and very different -- saluted
+the Warden. He wore a black jacket, rusty and
+amorphous. His trousers were too short, and he
+himself was too short: almost a dwarf. His face
+was as plain as his gait was undistinguished. He
+squinted behind spectacles.
+     "And who is that?" asked Zuleika.
+     A deep flush overspread the cheek of the War-
+den. "That," he said, "is also a member of
+Judas. His name, I believe, is Noaks."
+     "Is he dining with us to-night?" asked Zuleika.
+     "Certainly not," said the Warden. "Most de-
+cidedly not."
+     Noaks, unlike the Duke, had stopped for an
+ardent retrospect. He gazed till the landau was
+out of his short sight; then, sighing, resumed his
+solitary walk.
+     The landau was rolling into "the Broad," over
+that ground which had once blackened under the
+fagots lit for Latimer and Ridley. It rolled past
+the portals of Balliol and of Trinity, past the
+Ashmolean. From those pedestals which inter-
+sperse the railing of the Sheldonian, the high
+grim busts of the Roman Emperors stared down
+at the fair stranger in the equipage. Zuleika
+returned their stare with but a casual glance. The
+inanimate had little charm for her.
+     A moment later, a certain old don emerged
+from Blackwell's, where he had been buying
+books. Looking across the road, he saw, to his
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON       11
+
+amazement, great beads of perspiration glisten-
+ing on the brows of those Emperors. He trem-
+bled, and hurried away. That evening, in Com-
+mon Room, he told what he had seen; and no
+amount of polite scepticism would convince him
+that it was but the hallucination of one who had
+been reading too much Mommsen. He persisted
+that he had seen what he described. It was not
+until two days had elapsed that some credence
+was accorded him.
+     Yes, as the landau rolled by, sweat started
+from the brows of the Emperors. They, at least,
+foresaw the peril that was overhanging Oxford,
+and they gave such warning as they could. Let
+that be remembered to their credit. Let that in-
+cline us to think more gently of them. In their
+lives we know, they were infamous, some of them
+-- "nihil non commiserunt stupri, saevitiae, im-
+pietatis." But are they too little punished, after
+all? Here in Oxford, exposed eternally and in-
+exorably to heat and frost, to the four winds that
+lash them and the rains that wear them away,
+they are expiating, in effigy, the abominations of
+their pride and cruelty and lust. Who were
+lechers, they are without bodies; who were ty-
+rants, they are crowned never but with crowns of
+snow; who made themselves even with the gods,
+they are by American visitors frequently mistaken
+for the Twelve Apostles. It is but a little way
+down the road that the two Bishops perished for
+
+
+12       ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+their faith, and even now we do never pass the
+spot without a tear for them. Yet how quickly
+they died in the flames! To these Emperors, for
+whom none weeps, time will give no surcease.
+Surely, it is sign of some grace in them that they
+rejoiced not, this bright afternoon, in the evil that
+was to befall the city of their penance.
+
+
+
+II
+
+THE sun streamed through the bay-window of
+a "best" bedroom in the Warden's house, and
+glorified the pale crayon-portraits on the wall, the
+dimity curtains, the old fresh chintz. He invaded
+the many trunks which -- all painted Z. D. --
+gaped, in various stages of excavation, around the
+room. The doors of the huge wardrobe stood,
+like the doors of Janus' temple in time of war,
+majestically open; and the sun seized this oppor-
+tunity of exploring the mahogany recesses. But
+the carpet, which had faded under his imme-
+morial visitations, was now almost <i>entirely</i> hid-
+den from him, hidden under layers of fair fine
+linen, layers of silk, brocade, satin, chiffon, mus-
+lin. All the colours of the rainbow, materialised
+by modistes, were there. Stacked on chairs were
+I know not what of sachets, glove-cases, fan-cases.
+There were innumerable packages in silver-paper
+and pink ribands. There was a pyramid of band-
+boxes. There was a virgin forest of boot-trees.
+And rustling quickly hither and thither, in and
+out of this profusion, with armfuls of finery, was
+an obviously French maid. Alert, unerring, like
+a swallow she dipped and darted. Nothing es-
+
+13
+
+
+14      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+caped her, and she never rested. She had the air
+of the born unpacker -- swift and firm, yet withal
+tender. Scarce had her arms been laden but
+their loads were lying lightly between shelves or
+tightly in drawers. To calculate, catch, distribute,
+seemed in her but a single process. She was one
+of those who are born to make chaos cosmic.
+     Insomuch that ere the loud chapel-clock tolled
+another hour all the trunks had been sent empty
+away. The carpet was unflecked by any scrap of
+silver-paper. From the mantelpiece, photographs
+of Zuleika surveyed the room with a possessive
+air. Zuleika's pincushion, a-bristle with new pins,
+lay on the dimity-flounced toilet-table, and round
+it stood a multitude of multiform glass vessels,
+domed, all of them, with dull gold, on which
+Z. D., in zianites and diamonds, was encrusted.
+On a small table stood a great casket of mala-
+chite, initialled in like fashion. On another small
+table stood Zuleika's library. Both books were
+in covers of dull gold. On the back of one cover
+BRADSHAW, in beryls, was encrusted; on the back
+of the other, A.B.C. GUIDE, in amethysts, beryls,
+chrysoprases, and garnets. And Zuleika's great
+cheval-glass stood ready to reflect her. Always
+it travelled with her, in a great case specially
+made for it. It was framed in ivory, and of
+fluted ivory were the slim columns it swung be-
+tween. Of gold were its twin sconces, and four
+tall tapers stood in each of them.
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON       15
+
+     The door opened, and the Warden, with hos-
+pitable words, left his grand-daughter at the
+threshold.
+     Zuleika wandered to her mirror. "Undress
+me, M&eacute;lisande," she said. Like all who are wont
+to appear by night before the public, she had the
+habit of resting towards sunset.
+     Presently M&eacute;lisande withdrew. Her mistress,
+in a white peignoir tied with a blue sash, lay in a
+great chintz chair, gazing out of the bay-window.
+The quadrangle below was very beautiful, with
+its walls of rugged grey, its cloisters, its grass
+carpet. But to her it was of no more interest
+than if it had been the rattling court-yard to one
+of those hotels in which she spent her life. She
+saw it, but heeded it not. She seemed to be think-
+ing of herself, or of something she desired, or of
+some one she had never met. There was ennui,
+and there was wistfulness, in her gaze. Yet one
+would have guessed these things to be transient --
+to be no more than the little shadows that some-
+times pass between a bright mirror and the bright-
+ness it reflects.
+     Zuleika was not strictly beautiful. Her eyes
+were a trifle large, and their lashes longer than
+they need have been. An anarchy of small curls
+was her chevelure, a dark upland of misrule,
+every hair asserting its rights over a not discred-
+itable brow. For the rest, her features were not
+at all original. They seemed to have been derived
+
+
+16      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+rather from a gallimaufry of familiar models.
+From Madame la Marquise de Saint-Ouen came
+the shapely tilt of the nose. The mouth was a
+mere replica of Cupid's bow, lacquered scarlet
+and strung with the littlest pearls. No apple-
+tree, no wall of peaches, had not been robbed, nor
+any Tyrian rose-garden, for the glory of Miss
+Dobson's cheeks. Her neck was imitation-mar-
+ble. Her hands and feet were of very mean pro-
+portions. She had no waist to speak of.
+     Yet, though a Greek would have railed at her
+asymmetry, and an Elizabethan have called her
+"gipsy," Miss Dobson now, in the midst of the
+Edvardian Era, was the toast of two hemi-
+spheres. Late in her 'teens she had become an
+orphan and a governess. Her grandfather had
+refused her appeal for a home or an allowance,
+on the ground that he would not be burdened
+with the upshot of a marriage which he had once
+forbidden and not yet forgiven. Lately, how-
+ever, prompted by curiosity or by remorse, he
+had asked her to spend a week or so of his de-
+clining years with him. And she, "resting" be-
+tween two engagements -- one at Hammerstein's
+Victoria, N.Y.C., the other at the Folies Berg&egrave;res,
+Paris -- and having never been in Oxford, had so
+far let bygones be bygones as to come and gratify
+the old man's whim.
+     It may be that she still resented his indifference
+to those early struggles which, even now, she
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON       17
+
+shuddered to recall. For a governess' life she had
+been, indeed, notably unfit. Hard she had thought
+it, that penury should force her back into the
+school-room she was scarce out of, there to
+champion the sums and maps and conjugations
+she had never tried to master. Hating her work,
+she had failed signally to pick up any learning
+from her little pupils, and had been driven from
+house to house, a sullen and most ineffectual
+maiden. The sequence of her situations was the
+swifter by reason of her pretty face. Was there
+a grown-up son, always he fell in love with her,
+and she would let his eyes trifle boldly with hers
+across the dinner-table. When he offered her his
+hand, she would refuse it -- not because she
+"knew her place," but because she did not love
+him. Even had she been a good teacher, her
+presence could not have been tolerated thereafter.
+Her corded trunk, heavier by another packet of
+billets-doux and a month's salary in advance, was
+soon carried up the stairs of some other house.
+     It chanced that she came, at length, to be
+governess in a large family that had Gibbs for
+its name and Notting Hill for its background.
+Edward, the eldest son, was a clerk in the city,
+who spent his evenings in the practice of amateur
+conjuring. He was a freckled youth, with hair
+that bristled in places where it should have lain
+smooth, and he fell in love with Zuleika duly, at
+first sight, during high-tea. In the course of the
+
+
+18       ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+evening, he sought to win her admiration by a
+display of all his tricks. These were familiar to
+this household, and the children had been sent to
+bed, the mother was dozing, long before the
+s&eacute;ance was at an end. But Miss Dobson, unac-
+customed to any gaieties, sat fascinated by the
+young man's sleight of hand, marvelling that a
+top-hat could hold so many gold-fish, and a hand-
+kerchief turn so swiftly into a silver florin. All
+that night, she lay wide awake, haunted by the
+miracles he had wrought. Next evening, when
+she asked him to repeat them, "Nay," he whis-
+pered, "I cannot bear to deceive the girl I love.
+Permit me to explain the tricks." So he explained
+them. His eyes sought hers across the bowl of
+gold-fish, his fingers trembled as he taught her
+to manipulate the magic canister. One by one,
+she mastered the paltry secrets. Her respect for
+him waned with every revelation. He compli-
+mented her on her skill. "I could not do it more
+neatly myself!" he said. "Oh, dear Miss Dob-
+son, will you but accept my hand, all these things
+shall be yours -- the cards, the canister, the gold-
+fish, the demon egg-cup -- all yours!" Zuleika,
+with ravishing coyness, answered that if he would
+give her them now, she would "think it over."
+The swain consented, and at bed-time she retired
+with the gift under her arm. In the light of her
+bedroom candle Marguerite hung not in greater
+ecstasy over the jewel-casket than hung Zuleika
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON       19
+
+over the box of tricks. She clasped her hands
+over the tremendous possibilities it held for her --
+manumission from her bondage, wealth, fame,
+power. Stealthily, so soon as the house slum-
+bered, she packed her small outfit, embedding
+therein the precious gift. Noiselessly, she shut
+the lid of her trunk, corded it, shouldered it,
+stole down the stairs with it. Outside -- how that
+chain had grated! and her shoulder, how it was
+aching! -- she soon found a cab. She took a
+night's sanctuary in some railway-hotel. Next
+day, she moved into a small room in a lodging-
+house off the Edgware Road, and there for a
+whole week she was sedulous in the practice of
+her tricks. Then she inscribed her name on the
+books of a "Juvenile Party Entertainments
+Agency."
+     The Christmas holidays were at hand, and be-
+fore long she got an engagement. It was a great
+evening for her. Her repertory was, it must be
+confessed, old and obvious; but the children, in
+deference to their hostess, pretended not to know
+how the tricks were done, and assumed their pret-
+tiest airs of wonder and delight. One of them
+even pretended to be frightened, and was led
+howling from the room. In fact, the whole thing
+went off splendidly. The hostess was charmed,
+and told Zuleika that a glass of lemonade would
+be served to her in the hall. Other engagements
+soon followed. Zuleika was very, very happy.
+
+
+20      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+I cannot claim for her that she had a genuine
+passion for her art. The true conjurer finds his
+guerdon in the consciousness of work done per-
+fectly and for its own sake. Lucre and applause
+are not necessary to him. If he were set down,
+with the materials of his art, on a desert island,
+he would yet be quite happy. He would not
+cease to produce the barber's-pole from his
+mouth. To the indifferent winds he would still
+speak his patter, and even in the last throes of
+starvation would not eat his live rabbit or his
+gold-fish. Zuleika, on a desert island, would
+have spent most of her time in looking for a
+man's foot-print. She was, indeed, far too human
+a creature to care much for art. I do not say
+that she took her work lightly. She thought she
+had genius, and she liked to be told that this
+was so. But mainly she loved her work as a
+means of mere self-display. The frank admira-
+tion which, into whatsoever house she entered,
+the grown-up sons flashed on her; their eagerness
+to see her to the door; their impressive way of
+putting her into her omnibus -- these were the
+things she revelled in. She was a nymph to
+whom men's admiration was the greater part of
+life. By day, whenever she went into the streets,
+she was conscious that no man passed her with-
+out a stare; and this consciousness gave a sharp
+zest to her outings. Sometimes she was followed
+to her door -- crude flattery which she was too
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON       21
+
+innocent to fear. Even when she went into the
+haberdasher's to make some little purchase of
+tape or riband, or into the grocer's -- for she was
+an epicure in her humble way -- to buy a tin of
+potted meat for her supper, the homage of the
+young men behind the counter did flatter and
+exhilarate her. As the homage of men became
+for her, more and more, a matter of course, the
+more subtly necessary was it to her happiness.
+The more she won of it, the more she treasured
+it. She was alone in the world, and it saved her
+from any moment of regret that she had neither
+home nor friends. For her the streets that lay
+around her had no squalor, since she paced them
+always in the gold nimbus of her fascinations.
+Her bedroom seemed not mean nor lonely to her,
+since the little square of glass, nailed above the
+wash-stand, was ever there to reflect her face.
+Thereinto, indeed, she was ever peering. She
+would droop her head from side to side, she
+would bend it forward and see herself from be-
+neath her eyelashes, then tilt it back and watch
+herself over her supercilious chin. And she would
+smile, frown, pout, languish -- let all the emotions
+hover upon her face; and always she seemed to
+herself lovelier than she had ever been.
+     Yet was there nothing Narcissine in her spirit.
+Her love for her own image was not cold
+&aelig;stheticism. She valued that image not for its
+own sake, but for sake of the glory it always won
+
+
+22      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+for her. In the little remote music-hall, where
+she was soon appearing nightly as an "early
+turn," she reaped glory in a nightly harvest. She
+could feel that all the gallery-boys, because of
+her, were scornful of the sweethearts wedged be-
+tween them, and she knew that she had but to say
+"Will any gentleman in the audience be so good
+as to lend me his hat?" for the stalls to rise as
+one man and rush towards the platform. But
+greater things were in store for her. She was
+engaged at two halls in the West End. Her
+horizon was fast receding and expanding. Hom-
+age became nightly tangible in bouquets, rings,
+brooches -- things acceptable and (luckier than
+their donors) accepted. Even Sunday was not
+barren for Zuleika: modish hostesses gave her
+postprandially to their guests. Came that Sunday
+night, <i>notanda candidissimo calculo!</i> when she
+received certain guttural compliments which made
+absolute her vogue and enabled her to command,
+thenceforth, whatever terms she asked for.
+     Already, indeed, she was rich. She was living
+at the most exorbitant hotel in all Mayfair. She
+had innumerable gowns and no necessity to buy
+jewels; and she also had, which pleased her most,
+the fine cheval-glass I have described. At the
+close of the Season, Paris claimed her for a
+month's engagement. Paris saw her and was
+prostrate. Boldini did a portrait of her. Jules
+Bloch wrote a song about her; and this, for a
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON       23
+
+whole month, was howled up and down the cob-
+bled alleys of Montmartre. And all the little
+dandies were mad for "la Zuleika." The jewel-
+lers of the Rue de la Paix soon had nothing left
+to put in their windows -- everything had been
+bought for "la Zuleika." For a whole month,
+baccarat was not played at the Jockey Club --
+every member had succumbed to a nobler passion.
+For a whole month, the whole demi-monde was
+forgotten for one English virgin. Never, even
+in Paris, had a woman triumphed so. When the
+day came for her departure, the city wore such
+an air of sullen mourning as it had not worn since
+the Prussians marched to its Elys&eacute;e. Zuleika,
+quite untouched, would not linger in the conquered
+city. Agents had come to her from every capital
+in Europe, and, for a year, she ranged, in tri-
+umphal nomady, from one capital to another.
+In Berlin, every night, the students escorted her
+home with torches. Prince Vierf&uuml;nfsechs-Siebe-
+nachtneun offered her his hand, and was con-
+demned by the Kaiser to six months' confinement
+in his little castle. In Yildiz Kiosk, the tyrant
+who still throve there conferred on her the Order
+of Chastity, and offered her the central couch in
+his seraglio. She gave her performance in the
+Quirinal, and, from the Vatican, the Pope
+launched against her a Bull which fell utterly flat.
+In Petersburg, the Grand Duke Salamander
+Salamandrovitch fell enamoured of her. Of
+
+
+24      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+every article in the apparatus of her conjuring-
+tricks he caused a replica to be made in finest
+gold. These treasures he presented to her in
+that great malachite casket which now stood on
+the little table in her room; and thenceforth it
+was with these that she performed her wonders.
+They did not mark the limit of the Grand Duke's
+generosity. He was for bestowing on Zuleika
+the half of his immensurable estates. The Grand
+Duchess appealed to the Tzar. Zuleika was con-
+ducted across the frontier, by an escort of love-
+sick Cossacks. On the Sunday before she left
+Madrid, a great bull-fight was held in her honour.
+Fifteen bulls received the <i>coup-de-gr&acirc;ce</i>, and
+Alvarez, the matador of matadors, died in the
+arena with her name on his lips. He had tried
+to kill the last bull without taking his eyes off
+la divina se&ntilde;orita. A prettier compliment had
+never been paid her, and she was immensely
+pleased with it. For that matter, she was im-
+mensely pleased with everything. She moved
+proudly to the incessant music of a p&aelig;an, aye! of
+a p&aelig;an that was always <i>crescendo</i>.
+     Its echoes followed her when she crossed the
+Atlantic, till they were lost in the louder, deeper,
+more blatant p&aelig;an that rose for her from the
+shores beyond. All the stops of that "mighty
+organ, many-piped," the New York press, were
+pulled out simultaneously, as far as they could
+be pulled, in Zuleika's honour. She delighted in
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON       25
+
+the din. She read every line that was printed
+about her, tasting her triumph as she had never
+tasted it before. And how she revelled in the
+Brobdingnagian drawings of her, which, printed
+in nineteen colours, towered between the columns
+or sprawled across them! There she was, meas-
+uring herself back to back with the Statue of Lib-
+erty; scudding through the firmament on a comet,
+whilst a crowd of tiny men in evening-dress stared
+up at her from the terrestrial globe; peering
+through a microscope held by Cupid over a dimin-
+utive Uncle Sam; teaching the American Eagle
+to stand on its head; and doing a hundred-and-
+one other things -- whatever suggested itself to
+the fancy of native art. And through all this
+iridescent maze of symbolism were scattered
+many little slabs of realism. At home, on the
+street, Zuleika was the smiling target of all snap-
+shooters, and all the snap-shots were snapped up
+by the press and reproduced with annotations:
+Zuleika Dobson walking on Broadway in the
+sables gifted her by Grand Duke Salamander --
+she says "You can bounce blizzards in them";
+Zuleika Dobson yawning over a love-letter from
+millionaire Edelweiss; relishing a cup of clam-
+broth -- she says "They don't use clams out
+there"; ordering her maid to fix her a warm bath;
+finding a split in the gloves she has just drawn on
+before starting for the musicale given in her
+honour by Mrs. Suetonius X. Meistersinger, the
+
+
+26      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+most exclusive woman in New York; chatting at
+the telephone to Miss Camille Van Spook, the
+best-born girl in New York; laughing over the
+recollection of a compliment made her by George
+Abimelech Post, the best-groomed man in New
+York; meditating a new trick; admonishing a
+waiter who has upset a cocktail over her skirt;
+having herself manicured; drinking tea in bed.
+Thus was Zuleika enabled daily to be, as one
+might say, a spectator of her own wonderful life.
+On her departure from New York, the papers
+spoke no more than the truth when they said she
+had had "a lovely time." The further she went
+West -- millionaire Edelweiss had loaned her his
+private car -- the lovelier her time was. Chicago
+drowned the echoes of New York; final Frisco
+dwarfed the headlines of Chicago. Like one of
+its own prairie-fires, she swept the country from
+end to end. Then she swept back, and sailed for
+England. She was to return for a second season
+in the coming Fall. At present, she was, as I
+have said, "resting."
+     As she sat here in the bay-window of her room,
+she was not reviewing the splendid pageant of
+her past. She was a young person whose reveries
+never were in retrospect. For her the past was
+no treasury of distinct memories, all hoarded and
+classified, some brighter than others and more
+highly valued. All memories were for her but as
+the motes in one fused radiance that followed her
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      27
+
+and made more luminous the pathway of her
+future. She was always looking forward. She
+was looking forward now -- that shade of ennui
+had passed from her face -- to the week she was
+to spend in Oxford. A new city was a new toy
+to her, and -- for it was youth's homage that she
+loved best -- this city of youths was a toy after her
+own heart.
+     Aye, and it was youths who gave homage to
+her most freely. She was of that high-stepping
+and flamboyant type that captivates youth most
+surely. Old men and men of middle age admired
+her, but she had not that flower-like quality of
+shyness and helplessness, that look of innocence,
+so dear to men who carry life's secrets in their
+heads. Yet Zuleika <i>was</i> very innocent, really.
+She was as pure as that young shepherdess Mar-
+cella, who, all unguarded, roved the mountains
+and was by all the shepherds adored. Like Mar-
+cella, she had given her heart to no man, had
+preferred none. Youths were reputed to have
+died for love of her, as Chrysostom died for
+love of the shepherdess; and she, like the shep-
+herdess, had shed no tear. When Chrysostom
+was lying on his bier in the valley, and Marcella
+looked down from the high rock, Ambrosio, the
+dead man's comrade, cried out on her, upbraiding
+her with bitter words -- "Oh basilisk of our moun-
+tains!" Nor do I think Ambrosio spoke too
+strongly. Marcella cared nothing for men's ad-
+
+
+28      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+miration, and yet, instead of retiring to one of
+those nunneries which are founded for her kind,
+she chose to rove the mountains, causing despair
+to all the shepherds. Zuleika, with her peculiar
+temperament, would have gone mad in a nun-
+nery. "But," you may argue, "ought not she
+to have taken the veil, even at the cost of her
+reason, rather than cause so much despair in the
+world? If Marcella was a basilisk, as you seem
+to think, how about Miss Dobson?" Ah, but
+Marcella knew quite well, boasted even, that she
+never would or could love any man. Zuleika,
+on the other hand, was a woman of really pas-
+sionate fibre. She may not have had that con-
+scious, separate, and quite explicit desire to be a
+mother with which modern playwrights credit
+every unmated member of her sex. But she did
+know that she could love. And, surely, no woman
+who knows that of herself can be rightly censured
+for not recluding herself from the world: it is
+only women without the power to love who have
+no right to provoke men's love.
+     Though Zuleika had never given her heart,
+strong in her were the desire and the need that
+it should be given. Whithersoever she had fared,
+she had seen nothing but youths fatuously pros-
+trate to her -- not one upright figure which she
+could respect. There were the middle-aged men,
+the old men, who did not bow down to her; but
+from middle-age, as from eld, she had a san-
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON       29
+
+guine aversion. She could love none but a youth.
+Nor -- though she herself, womanly, would
+utterly abase herself before her ideal -- could she
+love one who fell prone before her. And before
+her all youths always did fall prone. She was
+an empress, and all youths were her slaves.
+Their bondage delighted her, as I have said.
+But no empress who has any pride can adore one
+of her slaves. Whom, then, could proud Zuleika
+adore? It was a question which sometimes
+troubled her. There were even moments when,
+looking into her cheval-glass, she cried out
+against that arrangement in comely lines and
+tints which got for her the dulia she delighted in.
+To be able to love once -- would not that be
+better than all the homage in the world? But
+would she ever meet whom, looking up to him,
+she could love -- she, the omnisubjugant? Would
+she ever, ever meet him?
+     It was when she wondered thus, that the wist-
+fulness came into her eyes. Even now, as she
+sat by the window, that shadow returned to
+them. She was wondering, shyly, had she met
+him at length? That young equestrian who had
+not turned to look at her; whom she was to meet
+at dinner to-night . . . was it he? The ends of
+her blue sash lay across her lap, and she was
+lazily unravelling their fringes. "Blue and
+white!" she remembered. "They were the col-
+ours he wore round his hat." And she gave a
+
+
+30      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+little laugh of coquetry. She laughed, and, long
+after, her lips were still parted in a smile.
+     So did she sit, smiling, wondering, with the
+fringes of her sash between her fingers, while
+the sun sank behind the opposite wall of the
+quadrangle, and the shadows crept out across the
+grass, thirsty for the dew.
+
+
+III
+
+THE clock in the Warden's drawing-room had
+just struck eight, and already the ducal feet were
+beautiful on the white bearskin hearthrug. So
+slim and long were they, of instep so nobly
+arched, that only with a pair of glazed ox-tongues
+on a breakfast-table were they comparable. In-
+comparable quite, the figure and face and vesture
+of him who ended in them.
+     The Warden was talking to him, with all the
+deference of elderly commoner to patrician boy.
+The other guests -- an Oriel don and his wife --
+were listening with earnest smile and submissive
+droop, at a slight distance. Now and again, to
+put themselves at their ease, they exchanged in
+undertone a word or two about the weather.
+     "The young lady whom you may have noticed
+with me," the Warden was saying, "is my
+orphaned grand-daughter." (The wife of the
+Oriel don discarded her smile, and sighed, with
+a glance at the Duke, who was himself an
+orphan.)  "She has come to stay with me."
+(The Duke glanced quickly round the room.)
+"I cannot think why she is not down yet." (The
+Oriel don fixed his eyes on the clock, as though
+
+31
+
+
+32      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+he suspected it of being fast.)  "I must ask you
+to forgive her. She appears to be a bright, pleas-
+ant young woman."
+     "Married?" asked the Duke.
+     "No," said the Warden; and a cloud of an-
+noyance crossed the boy's face. "No; she de-
+votes her life entirely to good works."
+     "A hospital nurse?" the Duke murmured.
+     "No, Zuleika's appointed task is to induce de-
+lightful wonder rather than to alleviate pain.
+She performs conjuring-tricks."
+     "Not -- not Miss Zuleika Dobson?" cried the
+Duke.
+     "Ah yes. I forgot that she had achieved some
+fame in the outer world. Perhaps she has
+already met you?"
+     "Never," said the young man coldly. "But of
+course I have heard of Miss Dobson. I did not
+know she was related to you."
+     The Duke had an intense horror of unmarried
+girls. All his vacations were spent in eluding
+them and their chaperons. That he should be
+confronted with one of them -- with such an one
+of them! -- in Oxford, seemed to him sheer vio-
+lation of sanctuary. The tone, therefore, in
+which he said "I shall be charmed," in answer to
+the Warden's request that he would take Zuleika
+into dinner, was very glacial. So was his gaze
+when, a moment later, the young lady made her
+entry.
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      33
+
+     "She did not look like an orphan," said the
+wife of the Oriel don, subsequently, on the way
+home. The criticism was a just one. Zuleika
+would have looked singular in one of those lowly
+double-files of straw-bonnets and drab cloaks
+which are so steadying a feature of our social
+system. Tall and lissom, she was sheathed from
+the bosom downwards in flamingo silk, and she
+was liberally festooned with emeralds. Her dark
+hair was not even strained back from her fore-
+head and behind her ears, as an orphan's should
+be. Parted somewhere at the side, it fell in an
+avalanche of curls upon one eyebrow. From her
+right ear drooped heavily a black pearl, from her
+left a pink; and their difference gave an odd, be-
+wildering witchery to the little face between.
+     Was the young Duke bewitched? Instantly,
+utterly. But none could have guessed as much
+from his cold stare, his easy and impassive bow.
+Throughout dinner, none guessed that his shirt-
+front was but the screen of a fierce warfare
+waged between pride and passion. Zuleika, at
+the foot of the table, fondly supposed him indif-
+ferent to her. Though he sat on her right, not
+one word or glance would he give her. All his
+conversation was addressed to the unassuming
+lady who sat on his other side, next to the War-
+den. Her he edified and flustered beyond meas-
+ure by his insistent courtesy. Her husband, alone
+on the other side of the table, was mortified by
+
+
+34       ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+his utter failure to engage Zuleika in small-talk.
+Zuleika was sitting with her profile turned to him
+-- the profile with the pink pearl -- and was
+gazing full at the young Duke. She was hardly
+more affable than a cameo. "Yes," "No," "I
+don't know," were the only answers she would
+vouchsafe to his questions. A vague "Oh really?"
+was all he got for his timid little offerings of
+information. In vain he started the topic of
+modern conjuring-tricks as compared with the
+conjuring-tricks performed by the ancient Egyp-
+tians. Zuleika did not even say "Oh really?"
+when he told her about the metamorphosis of the
+bulls in the Temple of Osiris. He primed him-
+self with a glass of sherry, cleared his throat.
+"And what," he asked, with a note of firmness,
+"did you think of our cousins across the water?"
+Zuleika said "Yes;" and then he gave in. Nor
+was she conscious that he ceased talking to her.
+At intervals throughout the rest of dinner, she
+murmured "Yes," and "No," and "Oh really?"
+though the poor little don was now listening
+silently to the Duke and the Warden.
+     She was in a trance of sheer happiness. At
+last, she thought, her hope was fulfilled -- that
+hope which, although she had seldom remem-
+bered it in the joy of her constant triumphs, had
+been always lurking in her, lying near to her
+heart and chafing her, like the shift of sackcloth
+which that young brilliant girl, loved and lost of
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      35
+
+Giacopone di Todi, wore always in secret sub-
+mission to her own soul, under the fair soft robes
+and the rubies men saw on her. At last, here
+was the youth who would not bow down to her;
+whom, looking up to him, she could adore. She
+ate and drank automatically, never taking her
+gaze from him. She felt not one touch of pique
+at his behaviour. She was tremulous with a joy
+that was new to her, greater than any joy she
+had known. Her soul was as a flower in its
+opetide. She was in love. Rapt, she studied
+every lineament of the pale and perfect face --
+the brow from which bronze-coloured hair rose
+in tiers of burnished ripples; the large steel-col-
+oured eyes, with their carven lids; the carven
+nose, and the plastic lips. She noted how long
+and slim were his fingers, and how slender his
+wrists. She noted the glint cast by the candles
+upon his shirt-front. The two large white pearls
+there seemed to her symbols of his nature. They
+were like two moons: cold, remote, radiant. Even
+when she gazed at the Duke's face, she was aware
+of them in her vision.
+     Nor was the Duke unconscious, as he seemed
+to be, of her scrutiny. Though he kept his head
+averse, he knew that always her eyes were watch-
+ing him. Obliquely, he saw them; saw, too, the
+contour of the face, and the black pearl and the
+pink; could not blind himself, try as he would.
+And he knew that he was in love.
+
+
+36      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+     Like Zuleika herself, this young Duke was in
+love for the first time. Wooed though he had
+been by almost as many maidens as she by youths,
+his heart, like hers, had remained cold. But he
+had never felt, as she had, the desire to love. He
+was not now rejoicing, as she was, in the sensation
+of first love; nay, he was furiously mortified by
+it, and struggled with all his might against it.
+He had always fancied himself secure against any
+so vulgar peril; always fancied that by him at
+least, the proud old motto of his family -- "<i>Pas si
+bete</i>" -- would not be belied. And I daresay, in-
+deed, that had he never met Zuleika, the irre-
+sistible, he would have lived, and at a very ripe
+old age died, a dandy without reproach. For in
+him the dandiacal temper had been absolute hith-
+erto, quite untainted and unruffled. He was too
+much concerned with his own perfection ever to
+think of admiring any one else. Different from
+Zuleika, he cared for his wardrobe and his toilet-
+table not as a means to making others admire
+him the more, but merely as a means through
+which he could intensify, a ritual in which to
+express and realise, his own idolatry. At Eton
+he had been called "Peacock," and this nick-name
+had followed him up to Oxford. It was not
+wholly apposite, however. For, whereas the pea-
+cock is a fool even among birds, the Duke had
+already taken (besides a particularly brilliant
+First in Mods) the Stanhope, the Newdigate, the
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      37
+
+Lothian, and the Gaisford Prize for Greek Verse.
+And these things he had achieved <i>currente calamo</i>,
+"wielding his pen," as Scott said of Byron, "with
+the easy negligence of a nobleman." He was now
+in his third year of residence, and was reading,
+a little, for Literae Humaniores. There is no
+doubt that but for his untimely death he would
+have taken a particularly brilliant First in that
+school also.
+     For the rest, he had many accomplishments.
+He was adroit in the killing of all birds and fishes,
+stags and foxes. He played polo, cricket, racquets,
+chess, and billiards as well as such things can be
+played. He was fluent in all modern languages,
+had a very real talent in water-colour, and was
+accounted, by those who had had the privilege
+of hearing him, the best amateur pianist on this
+side of the Tweed. Little wonder, then, that he
+was idolised by the undergraduates of his day.
+He did not, however, honour many of them with
+his friendship. He had a theoretic liking for them
+as a class, as the "young barbarians all at play"
+in that little antique city; but individually they
+jarred on him, and he saw little of them. Yet he
+sympathised with them always, and, on occasion,
+would actively take their part against the dons.
+In the middle of his second year, he had gone so
+far that a College Meeting had to be held, and he
+was sent down for the rest of term. The Warden
+placed his own landau at the disposal of the
+
+
+38      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+illustrious young exile, who therein was driven
+to the station, followed by a long, vociferous pro-
+cession of undergraduates in cabs. Now, it hap-
+pened that this was a time of political excitement
+in London. The Liberals, who were in power,
+had passed through the House of Commons a
+measure more than usually socialistic; and this
+measure was down for its second reading in the
+Lords on the very day that the Duke left Oxford,
+an exile. It was but a few weeks since he had
+taken his seat in the Lords; and this afternoon,
+for the want of anything better to do, he strayed
+in. The Leader of the House was already dron-
+ing his speech for the bill, and the Duke found
+himself on one of the opposite benches. There
+sat his compeers, sullenly waiting to vote for a
+bill which every one of them detested. As the
+speaker subsided, the Duke, for the fun of the
+thing, rose. He made a long speech against the
+bill. His gibes at the Government were so scath-
+ing, so utterly destructive his criticism of the bill
+itself, so lofty and so irresistible the flights of his
+eloquence, that, when he resumed his seat, there
+was only one course left to the Leader of the
+House. He rose and, in a few husky phrases,
+moved that the bill "be read this day six months."
+All England rang with the name of the young
+Duke. He himself seemed to be the one person
+unmoved by his exploit. He did not re-appear in
+the Upper Chamber, and was heard to speak in
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      39
+
+slighting terms of its architecture, as well as of
+its upholstery. Nevertheless, the Prime Minister
+became so nervous that he procured for him, a
+month later, the Sovereign's offer of a Garter
+which had just fallen vacant. The Duke accepted
+it. He was, I understand, the only undergraduate
+on whom this Order had ever been conferred.
+He was very much pleased with the insignia, and
+when, on great occasions, he wore them, no one
+dared say that the Prime Minister's choice was
+not fully justified. But you must not imagine that
+he cared for them as symbols of achievement and
+power. The dark blue riband, and the star scin-
+tillating to eight points, the heavy mantle of blue
+velvet, with its lining of taffeta and shoulder-knots
+of white satin, the crimson surcoat, the great em-
+bullioned tassels, and the chain of linked gold,
+and the plumes of ostrich and heron uprising from
+the black velvet hat -- these things had for him
+little significance save as a fine setting, a finer set-
+ting than the most elaborate smoking-suit, for that
+perfection of aspect which the gods had given him.
+This was indeed the gift he valued beyond all
+others. He knew well, however, that women care
+little for a man's appearance, and that what they
+seek in a man is strength of character, and rank,
+and wealth. These three gifts the Duke had in
+a high degree, and he was by women much courted
+because of them. Conscious that every maiden
+he met was eager to be his Duchess, he had as-
+
+
+40       ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+sumed always a manner of high austerity among
+maidens, and even if he had wished to flirt with
+Zuleika he would hardly have known how to do
+it. But he did not wish to flirt with her. That
+she had bewitched him did but make it the more
+needful that he should shun all converse with her.
+It was imperative that he should banish her from
+his mind, quickly. He must not dilute his own
+soul's essence. He must not surrender to any
+passion his dandihood. The dandy must be celi-
+bate, cloistral; is, indeed, but a monk with a
+mirror for beads and breviary -- an anchorite,
+mortifying his soul that his body may be perfect.
+Till he met Zuleika, the Duke had not known the
+meaning of temptation. He fought now, a St.
+Anthony, against the apparition. He would not
+look at her, and he hated her. He loved her, and
+he could not help seeing her. The black pearl and
+the pink seemed to dangle ever nearer and clearer
+to him, mocking him and beguiling. Inexpellable
+was her image.
+     So fierce was the conflict in him that his outward
+nonchalance gradually gave way. As dinner drew
+to its close, his conversation with the wife of the
+Oriel don flagged and halted. He sank, at length,
+into a deep silence. He sat with downcast eyes,
+utterly distracted.
+     Suddenly, something fell, plump! into the dark
+whirlpool of his thoughts. He started. The
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON       41
+
+Warden was leaning forward, had just said some-
+thing to him.
+     "I beg your pardon?" asked the Duke. Dessert,
+he noticed, was on the table, and he was paring
+an apple. The Oriel don was looking at him with
+sympathy, as at one who had swooned and was
+just "coming to."
+     "Is it true, my dear Duke," the Warden re-
+peated, "that you have been persuaded to play
+to-morrow evening at the Judas concert?"
+     "Ah yes, I am going to play something."
+     Zuleika bent suddenly forward, addressed him.
+"Oh," she cried, clasping her hands beneath her
+chin, "will you let me come and turn over the
+leaves for you?"
+     He looked her full in the face. It was like see-
+ing suddenly at close quarters some great bright
+monument that one has long known only as a
+sun-caught speck in the distance. He saw the
+large violet eyes open to him, and their lashes
+curling to him; the vivid parted lips; and the
+black pearl, and the pink.
+     "You are very kind," he murmured, in a voice
+which sounded to him quite far away. "But I
+always play without notes."
+     Zuleika blushed. Not with shame, but with
+delirious pleasure. For that snub she would just
+then have bartered all the homage she had
+hoarded. This, she felt, was the climax. She
+
+
+42      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+would not outstay it. She rose, smiling to the
+wife of the Oriel don. Every one rose. The Oriel
+don held open the door, and the two ladies passed
+out of the room.
+     The Duke drew out his cigarette case. As he
+looked down at the cigarettes, he was vaguely
+conscious of some strange phenomenon somewhere
+between them and his eyes. Foredone by the agi-
+tation of the past hour, he did not at once realise
+what it was that he saw. His impression was of
+something in bad taste, some discord in his cos-
+tume . . . a black pearl and a pink pearl in his
+shirt-front!
+     Just for a moment, absurdly over-estimating
+poor Zuleika's skill, he supposed himself a victim
+of legerdemain. Another moment, and the import
+of the studs revealed itself. He staggered up from
+his chair, covering his breast with one arm, and
+murmured that he was faint. As he hurried from
+the room, the Oriel don was pouring out a tumbler
+of water and suggesting burnt feathers. The
+Warden, solicitous, followed him into the hall.
+He snatched up his hat, gasping that he had
+spent a delightful evening -- was very sorry -- was
+subject to these attacks. Once outside, he took
+frankly to his heels.
+     At the corner of the Broad, he looked back over
+his shoulder. He had half expected a scarlet
+figure skimming in pursuit. There was nothing.
+He halted. Before him, the Broad lay empty
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON       43
+
+beneath the moon. He went slowly, mechanically,
+to his rooms.
+     The high grim busts of the Emperors stared
+down at him, their faces more than ever tragically
+cavernous and distorted. They saw and read in
+that moonlight the symbols on his breast. As he
+stood on his doorstep, waiting for the door to
+be opened, he must have seemed to them a thing
+for infinite compassion. For were they not privy
+to the doom that the morrow, or the morrow's
+morrow, held for him -- held not indeed for him
+alone, yet for him especially, as it were, and for
+him most lamentably?
+
+
+IV
+
+THE breakfast-things were not yet cleared away.
+A plate freaked with fine strains of marmalade, an
+empty toast-rack, a broken roll -- these and other
+things bore witness to a day inaugurated in the
+right spirit.
+     Away from them, reclining along his window-
+seat, was the Duke. Blue spirals rose from his
+cigarette, nothing in the still air to trouble them.
+From their railing, across the road, the Emperors
+gazed at him.
+     For a young man, sleep is a sure solvent of
+distress. There whirls not for him in the night
+any so hideous a phantasmagoria as will not be-
+come, in the clarity of next morning, a spruce pro-
+cession for him to lead. Brief the vague horror
+of his awakening; memory sweeps back to him,
+and he sees nothing dreadful after all. "Why
+not?" is the sun's bright message to him, and
+"Why not indeed?" his answer. After hours of
+agony and doubt prolonged to cock-crow, sleep
+had stolen to the Duke's bed-side. He awoke late,
+with a heavy sense of disaster; but lo! when he
+remembered, everything took on a new aspect.
+
+44
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON       45
+
+He was in love. "Why not?" He mocked him-
+self for the morbid vigil he had spent in probing
+and vainly binding the wounds of his false pride.
+The old life was done with. He laughed as he
+stepped into his bath. Why should the disseizin
+of his soul have seemed shameful to him? He had
+had no soul till it passed out of his keeping. His
+body thrilled to the cold water, his soul as to a
+new sacrament. He was in love, and that was all
+he wished for... There, on the dressing-table,
+lay the two studs, visible symbols of his love.
+Dear to him, now, the colours of them! He took
+them in his hand, one by one, fondling them. He
+wished he could wear them in the day-time; but
+this, of course, was impossible. His toilet fin-
+ished, he dropped them into the left pocket of his
+waist-coat.
+     Therein, near to his heart, they were lying
+now, as he looked out at the changed world -- the
+world that had become Zuleika. "Zuleika!" his
+recurrent murmur, was really an apostrophe to
+the whole world.
+     Piled against the wall were certain boxes of
+black japanned tin, which had just been sent to
+him from London. At any other time he would
+certainly not have left them unopened. For they
+contained his robes of the Garter. Thursday,
+the day after to-morrow, was the date fixed for
+the investiture of a foreign king who was now
+visiting England: and the full chapter of Knights
+
+
+46      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+had been commanded to Windsor for the cere-
+mony. Yesterday the Duke had looked keenly
+forward to his excursion. It was only in those
+too rarely required robes that he had the sense
+of being fully dressed. But to-day not a thought
+had he of them.
+     Some clock clove with silver the stillness of the
+morning. Ere came the second stroke, another
+and nearer clock was striking. And now there
+were others chiming in. The air was confused
+with the sweet babel of its many spires, some of
+them booming deep, measured sequences, some
+tinkling impatiently and outwitting others which
+had begun before them. And when this anthem
+of jealous antiphonies and uneven rhythms had
+dwindled quite away and fainted in one last soli-
+tary note of silver, there started somewhere an-
+other sequence; and this, almost at its last stroke,
+was interrupted by yet another, which went on to
+tell the hour of noon in its own way, quite slowly
+and significantly, as though none knew it.
+     And now Oxford was astir with footsteps and
+laughter -- the laughter and quick footsteps of
+youths released from lecture-rooms. The Duke
+shifted from the window. Somehow, he did not
+care to be observed, though it was usually at this
+hour that he showed himself for the setting of
+some new fashion in costume. Many an under-
+graduate, looking up, missed the picture in the
+window-frame.
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      47
+
+     The Duke paced to and fro, smiling ecstat-
+ically. He took the two studs from his pocket
+and gazed at them. He looked in the glass, as
+one seeking the sympathy of a familiar. For the
+first time in his life, he turned impatiently aside.
+It was a new kind of sympathy he needed to-day.
+     The front door slammed, and the staircase
+creaked to the ascent of two heavy boots. The
+Duke listened, waited irresolute. The boots
+passed his door, were already clumping up the
+next flight. "Noaks!" he cried. The boots
+paused, then clumped down again. The door
+opened and disclosed that homely figure which
+Zuleika had seen on her way to Judas.
+     Sensitive reader, start not at the apparition!
+Oxford is a plexus of anomalies. These two
+youths were (odd as it may seem to you) subject
+to the same Statutes, affiliated to the same Col-
+lege, reading for the same School; aye! and
+though the one had inherited half a score of noble
+and castellated roofs, whose mere repairs cost
+him annually thousands and thousands of pounds,
+and the other's people had but one little mean
+square of lead, from which the fireworks of the
+Crystal Palace were clearly visible every Thurs-
+day evening, in Oxford one roof sheltered both
+of them. Furthermore, there was even some
+measure of intimacy between them. It was the
+Duke's whim to condescend further in the direc-
+tion of Noaks than in any other. He saw in
+
+
+48      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+Noaks his own foil and antithesis, and made a
+point of walking up the High with him at least
+once in every term. Noaks, for his part, regarded
+the Duke with feelings mingled of idolatry and
+disapproval. The Duke's First in Mods op-
+pressed him (who, by dint of dogged industry,
+had scraped a Second) more than all the other
+differences between them. But the dullard's envy
+of brilliant men is always assuaged by the sus-
+picion that they will come to a bad end. Noaks
+may have regarded the Duke as a rather pathetic
+figure, on the whole.
+     "Come in, Noaks," said the Duke. "You have
+been to a lecture?"
+     "Aristotle's Politics," nodded Noaks.
+     "And what were they?" asked the Duke. He
+was eager for sympathy in his love. But so little
+used was he to seeking sympathy that he could
+not unburden himself. He temporised. Noaks
+muttered something about getting back to work,
+and fumbled with the door-handle.
+     "Oh, my dear fellow, don't go," said the Duke.
+"Sit down. Our Schools don't come on for an-
+other year. A few minutes can't make a differ-
+ence in your Class. I want to -- to tell you
+something, Noaks. Do sit down."
+     Noaks sat down on the edge of a chair. The
+Duke leaned against the mantel-piece, facing him.
+"I suppose, Noaks," he said, "you have never
+been in love."
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON       49
+
+     "Why shouldn't I have been in love?" asked
+the little man, angrily.
+     "I can't imagine you in love," said the Duke,
+smiling.
+     "And I can't imagine <i>you</i>. You're too pleased
+with yourself," growled Noaks.
+     "Spur your imagination, Noaks," said his
+friend. "I <i>am</i> in love."
+     "So am I," was an unexpected answer, and
+the Duke (whose need of sympathy was too new
+to have taught him sympathy with others)
+laughed aloud. "Whom do you love?" he asked,
+throwing himself into an arm-chair.
+     "I don't know who she is," was another un-
+expected answer.
+     "When did you meet her?" asked the Duke.
+"Where? What did you say to her?"
+     "Yesterday. In the Corn. I didn't <i>say</i> any-
+thing to her."
+     "Is she beautiful?"
+     "Yes. What's that to you?"
+     "Dark or fair?"
+     "She's dark. She looks like a foreigner. She
+looks like -- like one of those photographs in the
+shop-windows."
+     "A rhapsody, Noaks! What became of her?
+Was she alone?"
+     "She was with the old Warden, in his car-
+riage."
+     Zuleika -- Noaks! The Duke started, as at an
+
+
+50      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+affront, and glared. Next moment, he saw the
+absurdity of the situation. He relapsed into his
+chair, smiling. "She's the Warden's niece," he
+said. "I dined at the Warden's last night."
+     Noaks sat still, peering across at the Duke.
+For the first time in his life, he was resentful of
+the Duke's great elegance and average stature,
+his high lineage and incomputable wealth. Hith-
+erto, these things had been too remote for envy.
+But now, suddenly, they seemed near to him --
+nearer and more overpowering than the First in
+Mods had ever been. "And of course she's in
+love with you?" he snarled.
+     Really, this was for the Duke a new issue. So
+salient was his own passion that he had not had
+time to wonder whether it were returned. Zulei-
+ka's behaviour during dinner... But that was
+how so many young women had behaved. It
+was no sign of disinterested love. It might mean
+merely... Yet no! Surely, looking into her eyes,
+he had seen there a radiance finer than could have
+been lit by common ambition. Love, none other,
+must have lit in those purple depths the torches
+whose clear flames had leapt out to him. She
+loved him. She, the beautiful, the wonderful, had
+not tried to conceal her love for him. She had
+shown him all -- had shown all, poor darling! only
+to be snubbed by a prig, driven away by a boor,
+fled from by a fool. To the nethermost corner
+of his soul, he cursed himself for what he had
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      51
+
+done, and for all he had left undone. He would
+go to her on his knees. He would implore her to
+impose on him insufferable penances. There was
+no penance, how bittersweet soever, could make
+him a little worthy of her.
+     "Come in!" he cried mechanically. Entered
+the landlady's daughter.
+     "A lady downstairs," she said, "asking to see
+your Grace. Says she'll step round again later if
+your Grace is busy."
+     "What is her name?" asked the Duke, va-
+cantly. He was gazing at the girl with pain-shot
+eyes.
+     "Miss Zuleika Dobson," pronounced the girl.
+     He rose.
+     "Show Miss Dobson up," he said.
+     Noaks had darted to the looking-glass and was
+smoothing his hair with a tremulous, enormous
+hand.
+     "Go!" said the Duke, pointing to the door.
+Noaks went, quickly. Echoes of his boots fell
+from the upper stairs and met the ascending
+susurrus of a silk skirt.
+     The lovers met. There was an interchange of
+ordinary greetings: from the Duke, a comment
+on the weather; from Zuleika, a hope that he
+was well again -- they had been so sorry to lose
+him last night. Then came a pause. The land-
+lady's daughter was clearing away the breakfast-
+things. Zuleika glanced comprehensively at the
+
+
+52      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+room, and the Duke gazed at the hearthrug. The
+landlady's daughter clattered out with her freight.
+They were alone.
+     "How pretty!" said Zuleika. She was looking
+at his star of the Garter, which sparkled from a
+litter of books and papers on a small side-table.
+     "Yes," he answered. "It is pretty, isn't it?"
+     "Awfully pretty!" she rejoined.
+     This dialogue led them to another hollow
+pause. The Duke's heart beat violently within
+him. Why had he not asked her to take the star
+and keep it as a gift? Too late now! Why could
+he not throw himself at her feet? Here were
+two beings, lovers of each other, with none by.
+And yet...
+     She was examining a water-colour on the wall,
+seemed to be absorbed by it. He watched her.
+She was even lovelier than he had remembered;
+or rather her loveliness had been, in some subtle
+way, transmuted. Something had given to her a
+graver, nobler beauty. Last night's nymph had
+become the Madonna of this morning. Despite
+her dress, which was of a tremendous tartan, she
+diffused the pale authentic radiance of a spiritu-
+ality most high, most simple. The Duke won-
+dered where lay the change in her. He could
+not understand. Suddenly she turned to him, and
+he understood. No longer the black pearl and
+the pink, but two white pearls!... He thrilled to
+his heart's core.
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      53
+
+     "I hope," said Zuleika, "you aren't awfully
+vexed with me for coming like this?"
+     "Not at all," said the Duke. "I am delighted
+to see you." How inadequate the words sounded,
+how formal and stupid!
+     "The fact is," she continued, "I don't know a
+soul in Oxford. And I thought perhaps you'd
+give me luncheon, and take me to see the boat-
+races. Will you?"
+     "I shall be charmed," he said, pulling the bell-
+rope. Poor fool! he attributed the shade of dis-
+appointment on Zuleika's face to the coldness of
+his tone. He would dispel that shade. He would
+avow himself. He would leave her no longer in
+this false position. So soon as he had told them
+about the meal, he would proclaim his passion.
+     The bell was answered by the landlady's
+daughter.
+     "Miss Dobson will stay to luncheon," said the
+Duke. The girl withdrew. He wished he could
+have asked her not to.
+     He steeled himself. "Miss Dobson," he said,
+"I wish to apologise to you."
+     Zuleika looked at him eagerly. "You can't
+give me luncheon? You've got something better
+to do?"
+     "No. I wish to ask you to forgive me for my
+behaviour last night."
+     "There is nothing to forgive."
+     "There is. My manners were vile. I know
+
+
+54      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+well what happened. Though you, too, cannot
+have forgotten, I won't spare myself the recital.
+You were my hostess, and I ignored you. Mag-
+nanimous, you paid me the prettiest compliment
+woman ever paid to man, and I insulted you.
+I left the house in order that I might not see you
+again. To the doorsteps down which he should
+have kicked me, your grandfather followed me
+with words of kindliest courtesy. If he had sped
+me with a kick so skilful that my skull had been
+shattered on the kerb, neither would he have
+outstepped those bounds set to the conduct of
+English gentlemen, nor would you have garnered
+more than a trifle on account of your proper
+reckoning. I do not say that you are the first
+person whom I have wantonly injured. But it is
+a fact that I, in whom pride has ever been the
+topmost quality, have never expressed sorrow to
+any one for anything. Thus, I might urge that
+my present abjectness must be intolerably painful
+to me, and should incline you to forgive. But
+such an argument were specious merely. I will
+be quite frank with you. I will confess to you
+that, in this humbling of myself before you, I
+take a pleasure as passionate as it is strange. A
+confusion of feelings? Yet you, with a woman's
+instinct, will have already caught the clue to it.
+It needs no mirror to assure me that the clue is
+here for you, in my eyes. It needs no dictionary
+of quotations to remind me that the eyes are the
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      55
+
+windows of the soul. And I know that from two
+open windows my soul has been leaning and sig-
+nalling to you, in a code far more definitive and
+swifter than words of mine, that I love you."
+     Zuleika, listening to him, had grown gradually
+paler and paler. She had raised her hands and
+cowered as though he were about to strike her.
+And then, as he pronounced the last three words,
+she had clasped her hands to her face and with a
+wild sob darted away from him. She was leaning
+now against the window, her head bowed and her
+shoulders quivering.
+     The Duke came softly behind her. "Why
+should you cry? Why should you turn away from
+me? Did I frighten you with the suddenness of
+my words? I am not versed in the tricks of
+wooing. I should have been more patient. But
+I love you so much that I could hardly have
+waited. A secret hope that you loved me too em-
+boldened me, compelled me. You <i>do</i> love me. I
+know it. And, knowing it, I do but ask you to
+give yourself to me, to be my wife. Why should
+you cry? Why should you shrink from me?
+Dear, if there were anything ... any secret ... if
+you had ever loved and been deceived, do you
+think I should honour you the less deeply, should
+not cherish you the more tenderly? Enough for
+me, that you are mine. Do you think I should
+ever reproach you for anything that may
+have --"
+
+
+56      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+     Zuleika turned on him. "How dare you?" she
+gasped. "How dare you speak to me like that?"
+     The Duke reeled back. Horror had come into
+his eyes. "You do not love me!" he cried.
+"<i>Love</i> you?" she retorted. "<i>You?</i>"
+     "You no longer love me. Why? Why?"
+     "What do you mean?"
+     "You loved me. Don't trifle with me. You
+came to me loving me with all your heart."
+     "How do you know?"
+     "Look in the glass." She went at his bidding.
+He followed her. "You see them?" he said,
+after a long pause. Zuleika nodded. The two
+pearls quivered to her nod.
+     "They were white when you came to me," he
+sighed. "They were white because you loved
+me. From them it was that I knew you loved
+me even as I loved you. But their old colours
+have come back to them. That is how I know
+that your love for me is dead."
+     Zuleika stood gazing pensively, twitching the
+two pearls between her fingers. Tears gathered
+in her eyes. She met the reflection of her lover's
+eyes, and her tears brimmed over. She buried
+her face in her hands, and sobbed like a child.
+     Like a child's, her sobbing ceased quite sud-
+denly. She groped for her handkerchief, angrily
+dried her eyes, and straightened and smoothed
+herself.
+     "Now I'm going," she said.
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      57
+
+     "You came here of your own accord, because
+you loved me," said the Duke. "And you shall
+not go till you have told me why you have left
+off loving me."
+     "How did you know I loved you?" she asked
+after a pause. "How did you know I hadn't
+simply put on another pair of ear-rings?"
+     The Duke, with a melancholy laugh, drew the
+two studs from his waistcoat-pocket. "These are
+the studs I wore last night," he said.
+     Zuleika gazed at them. "I see," she said;
+then, looking up, "When did they become like
+that?"
+     "It was when you left the dining-room that I
+saw the change in them."
+     "How strange! It was when I went into the
+drawing-room that I noticed mine. I was looking
+in the glass, and" --  She started. "Then you
+were in love with me last night?"
+     "I began to be in love with you from the mo-
+ment I saw you."
+     "Then how could you have behaved as you
+did?"
+     "Because I was a pedant. I tried to ignore
+you, as pedants always do try to ignore any fact
+they cannot fit into their pet system. The basis
+of my pet system was celibacy. I don't mean the
+mere state of being a bachelor. I mean celibacy
+of the soul -- egoism, in fact. You have converted
+me from that. I am now a confirmed tuist."
+
+
+58      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+     "How dared you insult me?" she cried, with
+a stamp of her foot. "How dared you make a
+fool of me before those people? Oh, it is too
+infamous!"
+     "I have already asked you to forgive me for
+that. You said there was nothing to forgive."
+     "I didn't dream that you were in love with
+me."
+     "What difference can that make?"
+     "All the difference! All the difference in life!"
+     "Sit down! You bewilder me," said the Duke.
+"Explain yourself!" he commanded.
+     "Isn't that rather much for a man to ask of a
+woman?"
+     "I don't know. I have no experience of
+women. In the abstract, it seems to me that every
+man has a right to some explanation from the
+woman who has ruined his life."
+     "You are frightfully sorry for yourself," said
+Zuleika, with a bitter laugh. "Of course it doesn't
+occur to you that <i>I</i> am at all to be pitied. No!
+you are blind with selfishness. You love me -- I
+don't love you: that is all you can realise. Prob-
+ably you think you are the first man who has ever
+fallen on such a plight."
+     Said the Duke, bowing over a deprecatory
+hand, "If there were to pass my window one
+tithe of them whose hearts have been lost to
+Miss Dobson, I should win no solace from that
+interminable parade."
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON       59
+
+     Zuleika blushed. "Yet," she said more gently,
+"be sure they would all be not a little envious of
+<i>you!</i>  Not one of them ever touched the surface
+of my heart. You stirred my heart to its very
+depths. Yes, you made me love you madly. The
+pearls told you no lie. You were my idol -- the
+one thing in the wide world to me. You were so
+different from any man I had ever seen except in
+dreams. You did not make a fool of yourself.
+I admired you. I respected you. I was all afire
+with adoration of you. And now," she passed
+her hand across her eyes, "now it is all over.
+The idol has come sliding down its pedestal to
+fawn and grovel with all the other infatuates in
+the dust about my feet."
+     The Duke looked thoughtfully at her. "I
+thought," he said, "that you revelled in your
+power over men's hearts. I had always heard
+that you lived for admiration."
+     "Oh," said Zuleika, "of course I like being
+admired. Oh yes, I like all that very much in-
+deed. In a way, I suppose, I'm even pleased that
+<i>you</i> admire me. But oh, what a little miserable
+pleasure that is in comparison with the rapture I
+have forfeited! I had never known the rapture
+of being in love. I had longed for it, but I had
+never guessed how wonderfully wonderful it was.
+It came to me. I shuddered and wavered like a
+fountain in the wind. I was more helpless and
+flew lightlier than a shred of thistledown among
+
+
+60      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+the stars. All night long, I could not sleep for
+love of you; nor had I any desire of sleep, save
+that it might take me to you in a dream. I
+remember nothing that happened to me this morn-
+ing before I found myself at your door."
+     "Why did you ring the bell? Why didn't you
+walk away?"
+     "Why? I had come to see you, to be near
+you, to be <i>with</i> you."
+     "To force yourself on me."
+     "Yes."                                 I
+     "You know the meaning of the term 'effective
+occupation'? Having marched in, how could you
+have held your position, unless" --
+     "Oh, a man doesn't necessarily drive a woman
+away because he isn't in love with her."
+     "Yet that was what you thought I had done to
+you last night."
+     "Yes, but I didn't suppose you would take the
+trouble to do it again. And if you had, I should
+have only loved you the more. I thought you
+would most likely be rather amused, rather
+touched, by my importunity. I thought you
+would take a listless advantage, make a plaything
+of me -- the diversion of a few idle hours in sum-
+mer, and then, when you had tired of me, would
+cast me aside, forget me, break my heart. I de-
+sired nothing better than that. That is what I
+must have been vaguely hoping for. But I had no
+definite scheme. I wanted to be with you and I
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON       61
+
+came to you. It seems years ago, now! How my
+heart beat as I waited on the doorstep! 'Is his
+Grace at home?'  'I don't know. I'll inquire.
+What name shall I say?'  I saw in the girl's eyes
+that she, too, loved you. Have <i>you</i> seen that?"
+"I have never looked at her," said the Duke.
+"No wonder, then, that she loves you," sighed
+Zuleika. "She read my secret at a glance.
+Women who love the same man have a kind of
+bitter freemasonry. We resented each other. She
+envied me my beauty, my dress. I envied the
+little fool her privilege of being always near to
+you. Loving you, I could conceive no life sweeter
+than hers -- to be always near you; to black your
+boots, carry up your coals, scrub your doorstep;
+always to be working for you, hard and humbly
+and without thanks. If you had refused to see
+me, I would have bribed that girl with all my
+jewels to cede me her position."
+     The Duke made a step towards her. "You
+would do it still," he said in a low voice.
+     Zuleika raised her eyebrows. "I would not
+offer her one garnet," she said, "now."
+     "You <i>shall</i> love me again," he cried. "I will
+force you to. You said just now that you had
+ceased to love me because I was just like other
+men. I am not. My heart is no tablet of mere
+wax, from which an instant's heat can dissolve
+whatever impress it may bear, leaving it blank
+and soft for another impress, and another, and
+
+
+62      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+another. My heart is a bright hard gem, proof
+against any die. Came Cupid, with one of his
+arrow-points for graver, and what he cut on the
+gem's surface never can be effaced. There, deeply
+and forever, your image is intagliated. No years,
+nor fires, nor cataclysm of total Nature, can
+efface from that great gem your image."
+     "My dear Duke," said Zuleika, "don't be so
+silly. Look at the matter sensibly. I know that
+lovers don't try to regulate their emotions accord-
+ing to logic; but they do, nevertheless, uncon-
+sciously conform with some sort of logical system.
+I left off loving you when I found that you loved
+me. There is the premiss. Very well! Is it likely
+that I shall begin to love you again because you
+can't leave off loving me?"
+     The Duke groaned. There was a clatter of
+plates outside, and she whom Zuleika had envied
+came to lay the table for luncheon.
+     A smile flickered across Zuleika's lips; and
+"Not one garnet!" she murmured.
+
+
+V
+
+LUNCHEON passed in almost unbroken silence.
+Both Zuleika and the Duke were ravenously
+hungry, as people always are after the stress of
+any great emotional crisis. Between them, they
+made very short work of a cold chicken, a salad,
+a gooseberry-tart and a Camembert. The Duke
+filled his glass again and again. The cold classic-
+ism of his face had been routed by the new ro-
+mantic movement which had swept over his soul.
+He looked two or three months older than when
+first I showed him to my reader.
+     He drank his coffee at one draught, pushed
+back his chair, threw away the cigarette he had
+just lit. "Listen!" he said.
+     Zuleika folded her hands on her lap.
+     "You do not love me. I accept as final your
+hint that you never will love me. I need not say
+-- could not, indeed, ever say -- how deeply,
+deeply you have pained me. As lover, I am re-
+jected. But that rejection," he continued, striking
+the table, "is no stopper to my suit. It does but
+drive me to the use of arguments. My pride
+shrinks from them. Love, however, is greater
+than pride; and I, John, Albert, Edward, Claude,
+
+63
+
+
+64      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+Orde, Angus, Tankerton,* Tanville-Tankerton.&dagger;
+fourteenth Duke of Dorset, Marquis of Dorset,
+Earl of Grove, Earl of Chastermaine, Viscount
+Brewsby, Baron Grove, Baron Petstrap, and
+Baron Wolock, in the Peerage of England, offer
+you my hand. Do not interrupt me. Do not toss
+your head. Consider well what I am saying.
+Weigh the advantages you would gain by accept-
+ance of my hand. Indeed, they are manifold and
+tremendous. They are also obvious: do not shut
+your eyes to them. You, Miss Dobson, what are
+you? A conjurer, and a vagrant; without means,
+save such as you can earn by the sleight of your
+hand; without position; without a home; all un-
+guarded but by your own self-respect. That you
+follow an honourable calling, I do not for one
+moment deny. I do, however, ask you to con-
+sider how great are its perils and hardships, its
+fatigues and inconveniences. From all these evils
+I offer you instant refuge. I offer you, Miss Dob-
+son, a refuge more glorious and more augustly
+gilded than you, in your airiest flights of fancy,
+can ever have hoped for or imagined. I own
+about 340,000 acres. My town-residence is in
+St. James's Square. Tankerton, of which you
+may have seen photographs, is the chief of my
+country-seats. It is a Tudor house, set on the
+ridge of a valley. The valley, its park, is halved
+by a stream so narrow that the deer leap across.
+
+*Pronounced as Tacton. &dagger;Pronounced as Tavvle-Tacton.
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON       65
+
+The gardens are estraded upon the slope. Round
+the house runs a wide paven terrace. There are
+always two or three peacocks trailing their
+sheathed feathers along the balustrade, and step-
+ping how stiffly! as though they had just been
+unharnessed from Juno's chariot. Two flights of
+shallow steps lead down to the flowers and foun-
+tains. Oh, the gardens are wonderful. There
+is a Jacobean garden of white roses. Between
+the ends of two pleached alleys, under a dome
+of branches, is a little lake, with a Triton of
+black marble, and with water-lilies. Hither and
+thither under the archipelago of water-lilies, dart
+gold-fish -- tongues of flame in the dark water.
+There is also a long strait alley of clipped yew. It
+ends in an alcove for a pagoda of painted porce-
+lain which the Prince Regent -- peace be to his
+ashes! -- presented to my great-grandfather.
+There are many twisting paths, and sudden as-
+pects, and devious, fantastic arbours. Are you
+fond of horses? In my stables of pine-wood and
+plated-silver seventy are installed. Not all of
+them together could vie in power with one of the
+meanest of my motor-cars."
+     "Oh, I never go in motors," said Zuleika.
+"They make one look like nothing on earth, and
+like everybody else."
+     "I myself," said the Duke, "use them little for
+that very reason. Are you interested in farm-
+ing? At Tankerton there is a model farm which
+
+
+66       ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+would at any rate amuse you, with its heifers and
+hens and pigs that are like so many big new toys.
+There is a tiny dairy, which is called 'Her
+Grace's.'  You could make, therein, real butter
+with your own hands, and round it into little pats,
+and press every pat with a different device. The
+boudoir that would be yours is a blue room. Four
+Watteaus hang in it. In the dining-hall hang por-
+traits of my forefathers -- <i>in petto</i>, your fore-
+fathers-in-law -- by many masters. Are you fond
+of peasants? My tenantry are delightful creat-
+ures, and there is not one of them who remem-
+bers the bringing of the news of the Battle of
+Waterloo. When a new Duchess is brought to
+Tankerton, the oldest elm in the park must be
+felled. That is one of many strange old customs.
+As she is driven through the village, the children
+of the tenantry must strew the road with daisies.
+The bridal chamber must be lighted with as many
+candles as years have elapsed since the creation of
+the Dukedom. If you came into it, there would
+be" -- and the youth, closing his eyes, made a
+rapid calculation -- "exactly three hundred and
+eighty-eight candles. On the eve of the death of
+a Duke of Dorset, two black owls come and
+perch on the battlements. They remain there
+through the night, hooting. At dawn they fly
+away, none knows whither. On the eve of the
+death of any other Tanville-Tankerton, comes
+(no matter what be the time of year) a cuckoo.
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON       67
+
+It stays for an hour, cooing, then flies away, none
+knows whither. Whenever this portent occurs,
+my steward telegraphs to me, that I, as head of
+the family, be not unsteeled against the shock of a
+bereavement, and that my authority be sooner
+given for the unsealing and garnishing of the
+family-vault. Not every forefather of mine rests
+quiet beneath his escutcheoned marble. There
+are they who revisit, in their wrath or their re-
+morse, the places wherein erst they suffered or
+wrought evil. There is one who, every Hallow-
+een, flits into the dining-hall, and hovers before
+the portrait which Hans Holbein made of him,
+and flings his diaphanous grey form against the
+canvas, hoping, maybe, to catch from it the fiery
+flesh-tints and the solid limbs that were his, and
+so to be re-incarnate. He flies against the paint-
+ing, only to find himself t'other side of the wall
+it hangs on. There are five ghosts permanently
+residing in the right wing of the house, two in the
+left, and eleven in the park. But all are quite
+noiseless and quite harmless. My servants, when
+they meet them in the corridors or on the stairs,
+stand aside to let them pass, thus paying them
+the respect due to guests of mine; but not even the
+rawest housemaid ever screams or flees at sight
+of them. I, their host, often waylay them and try
+to commune with them; but always they glide
+past me. And how gracefully they glide, these
+ghosts! It is a pleasure to watch them. It is a
+
+
+68      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+lesson in deportment. May they never be laid!
+Of all my household-pets, they are the dearest to
+me. I am Duke of Strathsporran and Cairngorm,
+Marquis of Sorby, and Earl Cairngorm, in the
+Peerage of Scotland. In the glens of the hills
+about Strathsporran are many noble and nimble
+stags. But I have never set foot in my house
+there, for it is carpeted throughout with the tar-
+tan of my clan. You seem to like tartan. What
+tartan is it you are wearing?"
+     Zuleika looked down at her skirt. "I don't
+know," she said. "I got it in Paris."
+     "Well," said the Duke, "it is very ugly. The
+Dalbraith tartan is harmonious in comparison,
+and has, at least, the excuse of history. If you
+married me, you would have the right to wear it.
+You would have many strange and fascinating
+rights. You would go to Court. I admit that the
+Hanoverian Court is not much. Still, it is better
+than nothing. At your presentation, moreover,
+you would be given the <i>entr&eacute;e<i>. Is that nothing to
+you? You would be driven to Court in my state-
+coach. It is swung so high that the streetsters
+can hardly see its occupant. It is lined with rose-
+silk; and on its panels, and on its hammer-cloth,
+my arms are emblazoned -- no one has ever been
+able to count the quarterings. You would be
+wearing the family-jewels, reluctantly surrendered
+to you by my aunt. They are many and mar-
+vellous, in their antique settings. I don't want
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON       69
+
+to brag. It humiliates me to speak to you as I
+am speaking. But I am heart-set on you, and
+to win you there is not a precious stone I would
+leave unturned. Conceive a <i>parure</i> all of white
+stones -- diamonds, white sapphires, white to-
+pazes, tourmalines. Another, of rubies and ame-
+thysts, set in gold filigree. Rings that once were
+poison-combs on Florentine fingers. Red roses
+for your hair -- every petal a hollowed ruby.
+Amulets and ape-buckles, zones and fillets. Aye!
+know that you would be weeping for wonder
+before you had seen a tithe of these gauds. Know,
+too, Miss Dobson, that in the Peerage of France
+I am Duc d'Etretat et de la Roche Guillaume.
+Louis Napoleon gave the title to my father for
+not cutting him in the Bois. I have a house in
+the Champs Elys&eacute;es. There is a Swiss in its
+courtyard. He stands six-foot-seven in his stock-
+ings, and the chasseurs are hardly less tall than
+he. Wherever I go, there are two chefs in my
+retinue. Both are masters in their art, and furi-
+ously jealous of each other. When I compliment
+either of them on some dish, the other challenges
+him. They fight with rapiers, next morning, in
+the garden of whatever house I am occupying. I
+do not know whether you are greedy? If so, it
+may interest you to learn that I have a third chef,
+who makes only souffl&eacute;s, and an Italian pastry-
+cook; to say nothing of a Spaniard for salads, an
+Englishwoman for roasts, and an Abyssinian for
+
+
+70      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+coffee. You found no trace of their handiwork
+in the meal you have just had with me? No; for
+in Oxford it is a whim of mine -- I may say a
+point of honour -- to lead the ordinary life of an
+undergraduate. What I eat in this room is
+cooked by the heavy and unaided hand of Mrs.
+Batch, my landlady. It is set before me by the
+unaided and -- or are you in error? -- loving hand
+of her daughter. Other ministers have I none
+here. I dispense with my private secretaries. I
+am unattended by a single valet. So simple a
+way of life repels you? You would never be
+called upon to share it. If you married me, I
+should take my name off the books of my College.
+I propose that we should spend our honeymoon
+at Baiae. I have a villa at Baiae. It is there that
+I keep my grandfather's collection of majolica.
+The sun shines there always. A long olive-grove
+secretes the garden from the sea. When you walk
+in the garden, you know the sea only in blue
+glimpses through the vacillating leaves. White-
+gleaming from the bosky shade of this grove are
+several goddesses. Do you care for Canova? I
+don't myself. If you do, these figures will appeal
+to you: they are in his best manner. Do you love
+the sea? This is not the only house of mine that
+looks out on it. On the coast of County Clare --
+am I not Earl of Enniskerry and Baron Shandrin
+in the Peerage of Ireland? -- I have an ancient
+castle. Sheer from a rock stands it, and the sea
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON       71
+
+has always raged up against its walls. Many ships
+lie wrecked under that loud implacable sea. But
+mine is a brave strong castle. No storm affrights
+it; and not the centuries, clustering houris, with
+their caresses can seduce it from its hard aus-
+terity. I have several titles which for the moment
+escape me. Baron Llffthwchl am I, and. . .and
+. . .but you can find them for yourself in Debrett.
+In me you behold a Prince of the Holy Roman
+Empire, and a Knight of the Most Noble Order
+of the Garter. Look well at me! I am Heredi-
+tary Comber of the Queen's Lap-Dogs. I am
+young. I am handsome. My temper is sweet,
+and my character without blemish. In fine, Miss
+Dobson, I am a most desirable <i>parti</i>."
+     "But," said Zuleika, "I don't love you."
+     The Duke stamped his foot. "I beg your par-
+don," he said hastily. "I ought not to have done
+that. But -- you seem to have entirely missed the
+point of what I was saying."
+     "No, I haven't," said Zuleika.
+     "Then what," cried the Duke, standing over
+her, "what is your reply?"
+     Said Zuleika, looking up at him, "My reply is
+that I think you are an awful snob."
+     The Duke turned on his heel, and strode to
+the other end of the room. There he stood for
+some moments, his back to Zuleika.
+     "I think," she resumed in a slow, meditative
+voice, "that you are, with the possible exception
+
+
+72       ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+of a Mr. Edelweiss, <i>the</i> most awful snob I have
+ever met."
+     he Duke looked back over his shoulder. He
+gave Zuleika the stinging reprimand of silence.
+She was sorry, and showed it in her eyes. She
+felt she had gone too far. True, he was nothing
+to her now. But she had loved him once. She
+could not forget that.
+     "Come!" she said. "Let us be good friends.
+Give me your hand!" He came to her, slowly.
+"There!"
+     The Duke withdrew his fingers before she un-
+clasped them. That twice-flung taunt rankled
+still. It was monstrous to have been called a
+snob. A snob! -- he, whose readiness to form
+what would certainly be regarded as a shocking
+misalliance ought to have stifled the charge, not
+merely vindicated him from it! He had forgot-
+ten, in the blindness of his love, how shocking the
+misalliance would be. Perhaps she, unloving, had
+not been so forgetful? Perhaps her refusal had
+been made, generously, for his own sake. Nay,
+rather for her own. Evidently, she had felt that
+the high sphere from which he beckoned was no
+place for the likes of her. Evidently, she feared
+she would pine away among those strange splen-
+dours, never be acclimatised, always be unworthy.
+He had thought to overwhelm her, and he had
+done his work too thoroughly. Now he must try
+to lighten the load he had imposed.
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON       73
+
+     Seating himself opposite to her, "You remem-
+ber," he said, "that there is a dairy at
+Tankerton?"
+     "A dairy? Oh yes."
+     "Do you remember what it is called?"
+     Zuleika knit her brows.
+     He helped her out. "It is called 'Her
+Grace's'."
+     "Oh, of course!" said Zuleika.
+     "Do you know <i>why</i> it is called so?"
+     "Well, let's see. . .I know you told me."
+     "Did I? I think not. I will tell you now. . .
+That cool out-house dates from the middle of the
+eighteenth century. My great-great-grandfather,
+when he was a very old man, married <i>en troisi&egrave;mes
+noces<i> a dairy-maid on the Tankerton estate. Meg
+Speedwell was her name. He had seen her walk-
+ing across a field, not many months after the inter-
+ment of his second Duchess, Maria, that great
+and gifted lady. I know not whether it was that
+her bonny mien fanned in him some embers of his
+youth, or that he was loth to be outdone in gra-
+cious eccentricity by his crony the Duke of Dew-
+lap, who himself had just taken a bride from a
+dairy. (You have read Meredith's account of
+that affair? No? You should.)  Whether it
+was veritable love or mere modishness that
+formed my ancestor's resolve, presently the bells
+were ringing out, and the oldest elm in the park
+was being felled, in Meg Speedwell's honour, and
+
+
+74      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+the children were strewing daisies on which Meg
+Speedwell trod, a proud young hoyden of a bride,
+with her head in the air and her heart in the sev-
+enth heaven. The Duke had given her already
+a horde of fine gifts; but these, he had said, were
+nothing -- trash in comparison with the gift that
+was to ensure for her a perdurable felicity. After
+the wedding-breakfast, when all the squires had
+ridden away on their cobs, and all the squires'
+ladies in their coaches, the Duke led his bride
+forth from the hall, leaning on her arm, till they
+came to a little edifice of new white stone, very
+spick and span, with two lattice-windows and a
+bright green door between. This he bade her
+enter. A-flutter with excitement, she turned the
+handle. In a moment she flounced back, red with
+shame and anger -- flounced forth from the fair-
+est, whitest, dapperest dairy, wherein was all of
+the best that the keenest dairy-maid might need.
+The Duke bade her dry her eyes, for that it ill
+befitted a great lady to be weeping on her wed-
+ding-day. 'As for gratitude,' he chuckled,
+'zounds! that is a wine all the better for the keep-
+ing.'  Duchess Meg soon forgot this unworthy
+wedding-gift, such was her rapture in the other,
+the so august, appurtenances of her new life.
+What with her fine silk gowns and farthingales,
+and her powder-closet, and the canopied bed she
+slept in -- a bed bigger far than the room she had
+slept in with her sisters, and standing in a room
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON       75
+
+far bigger than her father's cottage; and what
+with Betty, her maid, who had pinched and teased
+her at the village-school, but now waited on her
+so meekly and trembled so fearfully at a scolding;
+and what with the fine hot dishes that were set
+before her every day, and the gallant speeches
+and glances of the fine young gentlemen whom
+the Duke invited from London, Duchess Meg
+was quite the happiest Duchess in all England.
+For a while, she was like a child in a hay-rick.
+But anon, as the sheer delight of novelty wore
+away, she began to take a more serious view of
+her position. She began to realise her responsi-
+bilities. She was determined to do all that a great
+lady ought to do. Twice every day she assumed
+the vapours. She schooled herself in the mys-
+teries of Ombre, of Macao. She spent hours over
+the tambour-frame. She rode out on horse-back,
+with a riding-master. She had a music-master to
+teach her the spinet; a dancing-master, too, to
+teach her the Minuet and the Triumph and the
+Gaudy. All these accomplishments she found
+mighty hard. She was afraid of her horse. All
+the morning, she dreaded the hour when it would
+be brought round from the stables. She dreaded
+her dancing-lesson. Try as she would, she could
+but stamp her feet flat on the parquet, as though
+it had been the village-green. She dreaded her
+music-lesson. Her fingers, disobedient to her am-
+bition, clumsily thumped the keys of the spinet,
+
+
+76      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+and by the notes of the score propped up before
+her she was as cruelly perplexed as by the black
+and red pips of the cards she conned at the gam-
+ing-table, or by the red and gold threads that
+were always straying and snapping on her tam-
+bour-frame. Still she persevered. Day in, day
+out, sullenly, she worked hard to be a great lady.
+But skill came not to her, and hope dwindled;
+only the dull effort remained. One accomplish-
+ment she did master -- to wit, the vapours: they
+became for her a dreadful reality. She lost her
+appetite for the fine hot dishes. All night long
+she lay awake, restless, tearful, under the fine silk
+canopy, till dawn stared her into slumber. She
+seldom scolded Betty. She who had been so lusty
+and so blooming saw in her mirror that she was
+pale and thin now; and the fine young gentlemen,
+seeing it too, paid more heed now to their wine
+and their dice than to her. And always, when
+she met him, the Duke smiled the same mocking
+smile. Duchess Meg was pining slowly and surely
+away... One morning, in Spring-time, she alto-
+gether vanished. Betty, bringing the cup of choco-
+late to the bedside, found the bed empty. She
+raised the alarm among her fellows. They
+searched high and low. Nowhere was their mis-
+tress. The news was broken to their master,
+who, without comment, rose, bade his man dress
+him, and presently walked out to the place where
+he knew he would find her.  And there, to be
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      77
+
+sure, she was, churning, churning for dear life.
+Her sleeves were rolled above her elbows, and
+her skirt was kilted high; and, as she looked back
+over her shoulder and saw the Duke, there was
+the flush of roses in her cheeks, and the light of
+a thousand thanks in her eyes. 'Oh,' she cried,
+'what a curtsey I would drop you, but that to
+let go the handle were to spoil all!'  And every
+morning, ever after, she woke when the birds
+woke, rose when they rose, and went singing
+through the dawn to the dairy, there to practise
+for her pleasure that sweet and lowly handicraft
+which she had once practised for her need. And
+every evening, with her milking-stool under her
+arm, and her milk-pail in her hand, she went into
+the field and called the cows to her, as she had
+been wont to do. To those other, those so august,
+accomplishments she no more pretended. She
+gave them the go-by. And all the old zest and
+joyousness of her life came back to her. Sound-
+lier than ever slept she, and sweetlier dreamed,
+under the fine silk canopy, till the birds called her
+to her work. Greater than ever was her love of
+the fine furbelows that were hers to flaunt in, and
+sharper her appetite for the fine hot dishes, and
+more tempestuous her scolding of Betty, poor
+maid. She was more than ever now the cynosure,
+the adored, of the fine young gentlemen. And as
+for her husband, she looked up to him as the
+wisest, kindest man in all the world."
+
+
+78      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+     "And the fine young gentlemen," said Zuleika,
+"did she fall in love with any of them?"
+     "You forget," said the Duke coldly, "she was
+married to a member of my family."
+     "Oh, I beg your pardon. But tell me: did they
+<i>all</i> adore her?"
+     "Yes. Every one of them, wildly, madly."
+     "Ah," murmured Zuleika, with a smile of un-
+derstanding. A shadow crossed her face, "Even
+so," she said, with some pique, "I don't suppose
+she had so very many adorers. She never went
+out into the world."
+     "Tankerton," said the Duke drily, "is a large
+house, and my great-great-grandfather was the
+most hospitable of men. However," he added,
+marvelling that she had again missed the point so
+utterly, "my purpose was not to confront you
+with a past rival in conquest, but to set at rest a
+fear which I had, I think, roused in you by my
+somewhat full description of the high majestic life
+to which you, as my bride, would be translated."
+     "A fear? What sort of a fear?"
+     "That you would not breathe freely -- that you
+would starve (if I may use a somewhat fantastic
+figure) among those strawberry-leaves. And so I
+told you the story of Meg Speedwell, and how
+she lived happily ever after. Nay, hear me out!
+The blood of Meg Speedwell's lord flows in my
+veins. I think I may boast that I have inherited
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON       79
+
+something of his sagacity. In any case, I can
+profit by his example. Do not fear that I, if you
+were to wed me, should demand a metamorphosis
+of your present self. I should take you as you
+are, gladly. I should encourage you to be always
+exactly as you are -- a radiant, irresistible member
+of the upper middle-class, with a certain freedom
+of manner acquired through a life of peculiar
+liberty. Can you guess what would be my princi-
+pal wedding-gift to you? Meg Speedwell had
+her dairy. For you, would be built another out-
+house -- a neat hall wherein you would perform
+your conjuring-tricks, every evening except Sun-
+day, before me and my tenants and my servants,
+and before such of my neighbours as might care to
+come. None would respect you the less, seeing
+that I approved. Thus in you would the pleasant
+history of Meg Speedwell repeat itself. You,
+practising for your pleasure -- nay, hear me out!
+-- that sweet and lowly handicraft which --"
+     "I won't listen to another word!" cried Zuleika.
+"You are the most insolent person I have ever
+met. I happen to come of a particularly good
+family. I move in the best society. My man-
+ners are absolutely perfect. If I found myself
+in the shoes of twenty Duchesses simultaneously,
+I should know quite well how to behave. As for
+the one pair you can offer me, I kick them away --
+so. I kick them back at you. I tell you --"
+
+
+80      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+     "Hush," said the Duke, "hush! You are over-
+excited. There will be a crowd under my window.
+There, there! I am sorry. I thought --"
+     "Oh, I know what you thought," said Zuleika,
+in a quieter tone. "I am sure you meant well.
+I am sorry I lost my temper. Only, you might
+have given me credit for meaning what I said:
+that I would not marry you, because I did not
+love you. I daresay there would be great advan-
+tages in being your Duchess. But the fact is, I
+have no worldly wisdom. To me, marriage is a
+sacrament. I could no more marry a man about
+whom I could not make a fool of myself than I
+could marry one who made a fool of himself
+about me. Else had I long ceased to be a spin-
+ster. Oh my friend, do not imagine that I have
+not rejected, in my day, a score of suitors quite as
+eligible as you."
+     "As eligible? Who were they?" frowned the
+Duke.
+     "Oh, Archduke this, and Grand Duke that, and
+His Serene Highness the other. I have a wretched
+memory for names."
+     "And my name, too, will soon escape you,
+perhaps?"
+     "No. Oh, no. I shall always remember yours.
+You see, I was in love with you. You deceived
+me into loving you. . ." She sighed. "Oh, had
+you but been as strong as I thought you. . . Still,
+a swain the more. That is something." She
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON       81
+
+leaned forward, smiling archly. "Those studs --
+show me them again."
+     The Duke displayed them in the hollow of his
+hand. She touched them lightly, reverently, as a
+tourist touches a sacred relic in a church.
+     At length, "Do give me them," she said. "I
+will keep them in a little secret partition of my
+jewel-case." The Duke had closed his fist. "Do!"
+she pleaded. "My other jewels -- they have no
+separate meanings for me. I never remember
+who gave me this one or that. These would be
+quite different. I should always remember their
+history... Do!"
+     "Ask me for anything else," said the Duke.
+"These are the one thing I could not part with --
+even to you, for whose sake they are hallowed."
+     Zuleika pouted. On the verge of persisting,
+she changed her mind, and was silent.
+     "Well!" she said abruptly, "how about these
+races? Are you going to take me to see them?"
+     "Races? What races?" murmured the Duke.
+"Oh yes. I had forgotten. Do you really mean
+that you want to see them?"
+     "Why, of course! They are great fun, aren't
+they?"
+     "And you are in a mood for great fun? Well,
+there is plenty of time. The Second Division is
+not rowed till half-past four."
+     "The Second Division? Why not take me to
+the First?"
+
+
+82      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+     "That is not rowed till six."
+     "Isn't this rather an odd arrangement?"
+     "No doubt. But Oxford never pretended to
+be strong in mathematics."
+     "Why, it's not yet three!" cried Zuleika, with
+a woebegone stare at the clock. "What is to be
+done in the meantime?"
+     "Am not I sufficiently diverting?" asked the
+Duke bitterly.
+     "Quite candidly, no. Have you any friend
+lodging with you here?"
+     "One, overhead. A man named Noaks."
+     "A small man, with spectacles?"
+     "Very small, with very large spectacles."
+     "He was pointed out to me yesterday, as I was
+driving from the Station. . . No, I don't think
+I want to meet him. What can you have in com-
+mon with him?"
+     "One frailty, at least: he, too, Miss Dobson,
+loves you."
+     "But of course he does. He saw me drive past.
+Very few of the others," she said, rising and
+shaking herself, "have set eyes on me. Do let
+us go out and look at the Colleges. I do need
+change of scene. If you were a doctor, you would
+have prescribed that long ago. It is very bad for
+me to be here, a kind of Cinderella, moping over
+the ashes of my love for you. Where is your
+hat?"
+     Looking round, she caught sight of herself in
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON       83
+
+the glass. "Oh," she cried, "what a fright I do
+look! I must never be seen like this!"
+     "You look very beautiful."
+     "I don't. That is a lover's illusion. You your-
+self told me that this tartan was perfectly hideous.
+There was no need to tell me that. I came thus
+because I was coming to see you. I chose this
+frock in the deliberate fear that you, if I made
+myself presentable, might succumb at second sight
+of me. I would have sent out for a sack and
+dressed myself in that, I would have blacked my
+face all over with burnt cork, only I was afraid
+of being mobbed on the way to you."
+     "Even so, you would but have been mobbed
+for your incorrigible beauty."
+     "My beauty! How I hate it!" sighed Zuleika.
+"Still, here it is, and I must needs make the best
+of it. Come! Take me to Judas. I will change
+my things. Then I shall be fit for the races."
+     As these two emerged, side by side, into the
+street, the Emperors exchanged stony sidelong
+glances. For they saw the more than normal
+pallor of the Duke's face, and something very
+like desperation in his eyes. They saw the tragedy
+progressing to its foreseen close. Unable to stay
+its course, they were grimly fascinated now.
+
+
+VI
+
+"THE evil that men do lives after them; the good
+is oft interred with their bones." At any rate,
+the sinner has a better chance than the saint of
+being hereafter remembered. We, in whom
+original sin preponderates, find him easier to
+understand. He is near to us, clear to us. The
+saint is remote, dim. A very great saint may, of
+course, be remembered through some sheer force
+of originality in him; and then the very mystery
+that involves him for us makes him the harder
+to forget: he haunts us the more surely because
+we shall never understand him. But the ordinary
+saints grow faint to posterity; whilst quite ordi-
+nary sinners pass vividly down the ages.
+     Of the disciples of Jesus, which is he that is
+most often remembered and cited by us? Not the
+disciple whom Jesus loved; neither of the
+Boanerges, nor any other of them who so stead-
+fastly followed Him and served Him; but the
+disciple who betrayed Him for thirty pieces of
+silver. Judas Iscariot it is who outstands, over-
+shadowing those other fishermen. And perhaps it
+was by reason of this precedence that Christopher
+Whitrid, Knight, in the reign of Henry VI., gave
+
+84
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON     85
+
+the name of Judas to the College which he had
+founded. Or perhaps it was because he felt that
+in a Christian community not even the meanest
+and basest of men should be accounted beneath
+contempt, beyond redemption.
+     At any rate, thus he named his foundation.
+And, though for Oxford men the savour of the
+name itself has long evaporated through its local
+connexion, many things show that for the Founder
+himself it was no empty vocable. In a niche above
+the gate stands a rudely carved statue of Judas,
+holding a money-bag in his right hand. Among
+the original statutes of the College is one by
+which the Bursar is enjoined to distribute in Pas-
+sion Week thirty pieces of silver among the need-
+ier scholars "for saike of atonynge." The
+meadow adjoining the back of the College has
+been called from time immemorial "the Potter's
+Field." And the name of Salt Cellar is not less
+ancient and significant.
+     Salt Cellar, that grey and green quadrangle
+visible from the room assigned to Zuleika, is very
+beautiful, as I have said. So tranquil is it as to
+seem remote not merely from the world, but even
+from Oxford, so deeply is it hidden away in the
+core of Oxford's heart. So tranquil is it, one
+would guess that nothing had ever happened in it.
+For five centuries these walls have stood, and dur-
+ing that time have beheld, one would say, no sight
+less seemly than the good work of weeding, mow-
+
+
+86      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+ing, rolling, that has made, at length, so exem-
+plary the lawn. These cloisters that grace the
+south and east sides -- five centuries have passed
+through them, leaving in them no echo, leaving on
+them no sign, of all that the outer world, for good
+or evil, has been doing so fiercely, so raucously.
+     And yet, if you are versed in the antiquities of
+Oxford, you know that this small, still quadrangle
+has played its part in the rough-and-tumble of
+history, and has been the background of high
+passions and strange fates. The sun-dial in its
+midst has told the hours to more than one bygone
+King. Charles I. lay for twelve nights in Judas;
+and it was here, in this very quadrangle, that he
+heard from the lips of a breathless and blood-
+stained messenger the news of Chalgrove Field.
+Sixty years later, James, his son, came hither,
+black with threats, and from one of the hind-
+windows of the Warden's house -- maybe, from
+the very room where now Zuleika was changing
+her frock -- addressed the Fellows, and presented
+to them the Papist by him chosen to be their
+Warden, instead of the Protestant whom they
+had elected. They were not of so stern a stuff as
+the Fellows of Magdalen, who, despite His
+Majesty's menaces, had just rejected Bishop
+Farmer. The Papist was elected, there and then,
+<i>al fresco</i>, without dissent. Cannot one see them,
+these Fellows of Judas, huddled together round
+the sun-dial, like so many sheep in a storm? The
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON       87
+
+King's wrath, according to a contemporary record,
+was so appeased by their pliancy that he deigned
+to lie for two nights in Judas, and at a grand
+refection in Hall "was gracious and merrie."
+Perhaps it was in lingering gratitude for such
+patronage that Judas remained so pious to his
+memory even after smug Herrenhausen had been
+dumped down on us for ever. Certainly, of all
+the Colleges none was more ardent than Judas for
+James Stuart. Thither it was that young Sir
+Harry Esson led, under cover of night, three-
+score recruits whom he had enlisted in the sur-
+rounding villages. The cloisters of Salt Cellar
+were piled with arms and stores; and on its grass
+-- its sacred grass! -- the squad was incessantly
+drilled, against the good day when Ormond should
+land his men in Devon. For a whole month Salt
+Cellar was a secret camp. But somehow, at
+length -- woe to "lost causes and impossible loyal-
+ties" -- Herrenhausen had wind of it; and one
+night, when the soldiers of the white cockade lay
+snoring beneath the stars, stealthily the white-
+faced Warden unbarred his postern -- that very
+postern through which now Zuleika had passed
+on the way to her bedroom -- and stealthily
+through it, one by one on tip-toe, came the King's
+foot-guards. Not many shots rang out, nor many
+swords clashed, in the night air, before the trick
+was won for law and order. Most of the rebels
+were overpowered in their sleep; and those who
+
+
+88      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+had time to snatch arms were too dazed to make
+good resistance. Sir Harry Esson himself was the
+only one who did not live to be hanged. He had
+sprung up alert, sword in hand, at the first alarm,
+setting his back to the cloisters. There he fought
+calmly, ferociously, till a bullet went through his
+chest. "By God, this College is well-named!"
+were the words he uttered as he fell forward and
+died.
+     Comparatively tame was the scene now being
+enacted in this place. The Duke, with bowed
+head, was pacing the path between the lawn and
+the cloisters. Two other undergraduates stood
+watching him, whispering to each other, under the
+archway that leads to the Front Quadrangle.
+Presently, in a sheepish way, they approached
+him. He halted and looked up.
+     "I say," stammered the spokesman.
+     "Well?" asked the Duke. Both youths were
+slightly acquainted with him; but he was not used
+to being spoken to by those whom he had not first
+addressed. Moreover, he was loth to be thus
+disturbed in his sombre reverie. His manner was
+not encouraging.
+     "Isn't it a lovely day for the Eights?" faltered
+the spokesman.
+     "I conceive," the Duke said, "that you hold
+back some other question."
+     The spokesman smiled weakly. Nudged by the
+other, he muttered "Ask him yourself!"
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON       89
+
+     The Duke diverted his gaze to the other, who,
+with an angry look at the one, cleared his throat,
+and said "I was going to ask if you thought Miss
+Dobson would come and have luncheon with me
+to-morrow?"
+     "A sister of mine will be there," explained the
+one, knowing the Duke to be a precisian.
+     "If you are acquainted with Miss Dobson, a
+direct invitation should be sent to her," said the
+Duke. "If you are not --"  The aposiopesis
+was icy.
+     "Well, you see," said the other of the two,
+"that is just the difficulty. I <i>am</i> acquainted with
+her. But is she acquainted with <i>me?</i>  I met her
+at breakfast this morning, at the Warden's."
+     "So did I," added the one.
+     "But she -- well," continued the other, "she
+didn't take much notice of us. She seemed to be
+in a sort of dream."
+     "Ah!" murmured the Duke, with melancholy
+interest.
+     "The only time she opened her lips," said the
+other, "was when she asked us whether we took
+tea or coffee."
+     "She put hot milk in my tea," volunteered the
+one, "and upset the cup over my hand, and smiled
+vaguely."
+     "And smiled vaguely," sighed the Duke.
+     "She left us long before the marmalade stage,"
+said the one.
+
+
+90       ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+     "Without a word," said the other.
+     "Without a glance?" asked the Duke. It was
+testified by the one and the other that there had
+been not so much as a glance.
+     "Doubtless," the disingenuous Duke said, "she
+had a headache. . . Was she pale?"
+     "Very pale," answered the one.
+     "A healthy pallor," qualified the other, who
+was a constant reader of novels.
+     "Did she look," the Duke inquired, "as if she
+had spent a sleepless night?"
+     That was the impression made on both.
+     "Yet she did not seem listless or unhappy?"
+     No, they would not go so far as to say that.
+     "Indeed, were her eyes of an almost unnatural
+brilliance?"
+     "Quite unnatural," confessed the one.     I
+     "Twin stars," interpolated the other.
+     "Did she, in fact, seem to be consumed by
+some inward rapture?"
+     Yes, now they came to think of it, this was
+exactly how she <i>had</i> seemed.
+     It was sweet, it was bitter, for the Duke. "I
+remember," Zuleika had said to him, "nothing
+that happened to me this morning till I found
+myself at your door." It was bitter-sweet to have
+that outline filled in by these artless pencils. No,
+it was only bitter, to be, at his time of life, living
+in the past.
+     "The purpose of your tattle?" he asked coldly.
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON       91
+
+     The two youths hurried to the point from which
+he had diverted them. "When she went by with
+you just now," said the one, "she evidently didn't
+know us from Adam."
+     "And I had so hoped to ask her to luncheon,"
+said the other.
+     "Well?"
+     "Well, we wondered if you would re-introduce
+us. And then perhaps. . ."
+     There was a pause. The Duke was touched to
+kindness for these fellow-lovers. He would fain
+preserve them from the anguish that beset him-
+self. So humanising is sorrow.
+     "You are in love with Miss Dobson?" he asked.
+     Both nodded.
+     "Then," said he, "you will in time be thankful
+to me for not affording you further traffic with
+that lady. To love and be scorned -- does Fate
+hold for us a greater inconvenience? You think
+I beg the question? Let me tell you that I, too,
+love Miss Dobson, and that she scorns me."
+     To the implied question "What chance would
+there be for you?" the reply was obvious.
+     Amazed, abashed, the two youths turned on
+their heels.
+     "Stay!" said the Duke. "Let me, in justice
+to myself, correct an inference you may have
+drawn. It is not by reason of any defect in my-
+self, perceived or imagined, that Miss Dobson
+scorns me. She scorns me simply because I love
+
+
+92      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+her. All who love her she scorns. To see her
+is to love her. Therefore shut your eyes to her.
+Strictly exclude her from your horizon. Ignore
+her. Will you do this?"
+     "We will try," said the one, after a pause.
+     "Thank you very much," added the other.
+     The Duke watched them out of sight. He
+wished he could take the good advice he had given
+them. . . Suppose he did take it! Suppose he
+went to the Bursar, obtained an exeat, fled straight
+to London! What just humiliation for Zuleika
+to come down and find her captive gone! He
+pictured her staring around the quadrangle,
+ranging the cloisters, calling to him. He pictured
+her rustling to the gate of the College, inquiring
+at the porter's lodge. "His Grace, Miss, he
+passed through a minute ago. He's going down
+this afternoon."
+     Yet, even while his fancy luxuriated in this
+scheme, he well knew that he would not accom-
+plish anything of the kind -- knew well that he
+would wait here humbly, eagerly, even though
+Zuleika lingered over her toilet till crack o' doom.
+He had no desire that was not centred in her.
+Take away his love for her, and what remained?
+Nothing -- though only in the past twenty-four
+hours had this love been added to him. Ah, why
+had he ever seen her? He thought of his past,
+its cold splendour and insouciance. But he knew
+that for him there was no returning. His boats
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      93
+
+were burnt. The Cytherean babes had set their
+torches to that flotilla, and it had blazed like
+match-wood. On the isle of the enchantress he
+was stranded for ever. For ever stranded on the
+isle of an enchantress who would have nothing to
+do with him! What, he wondered, should be done
+in so piteous a quandary? There seemed to be
+two courses. One was to pine slowly and pain-
+fully away. The other. . .
+     Academically, the Duke had often reasoned
+that a man for whom life holds no chance of
+happiness cannot too quickly shake life off. Now,
+of a sudden, there was for that theory a vivid
+application.
+     "Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer" was
+not a point by which he, "more an antique Roman
+than a Dane," was at all troubled. Never had he
+given ear to that cackle which is called Public
+Opinion. The judgment of his peers -- this, he
+had often told himself, was the sole arbitrage he
+could submit to; but then, who was to be on the
+bench? Peerless, he was irresponsible -- the cap-
+tain of his soul, the despot of his future. No
+injunction but from himself would he bow to;
+and his own injunctions -- so little Danish was he
+-- had always been peremptory and lucid. Lucid
+and peremptory, now, the command he issued to
+himself.
+     "So sorry to have been so long," carolled a
+voice from above. The Duke looked up. "I'm
+
+
+94      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+all but ready," said Zuleika at her window.
+     That brief apparition changed the colour of his
+resolve. He realised that to die for love of this
+lady would be no mere measure of precaution, or
+counsel of despair. It would be in itself a pas-
+sionate indulgence -- a fiery rapture, not to be
+foregone. What better could he ask than to die
+for his love? Poor indeed seemed to him now
+the sacrament of marriage beside the sacra-
+ment of death. Death was incomparably the
+greater, the finer soul. Death was the one true
+bridal.
+     He flung back his head, spread wide his arms,
+quickened his pace almost to running speed. Ah,
+he would win his bride before the setting of the
+sun. He knew not by what means he would win
+her. Enough that even now, full-hearted, fleet-
+footed, he was on his way to her, and that she
+heard him coming.
+     When Zuleika, a vision in vaporous white, came
+out through the postern, she wondered why he
+was walking at so remarkable a pace. To him,
+wildly expressing in his movement the thought
+within him, she appeared as his awful bride. With
+a cry of joy, he bounded towards her, and would
+have caught her in his arms, had she not stepped
+nimbly aside.
+     "Forgive me!" he said, after a pause. "It was
+a mistake -- an idiotic mistake of identity. I
+thought you were. . ."
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON       95
+
+     Zuleika, rigid, asked "Have I many doubles?"
+     "You know well that in all the world is none
+so blest as to be like you. I can only say that
+I was over-wrought. I can only say that it shall
+not occur again."
+     She was very angry indeed. Of his penitence
+there could be no doubt. But there are outrages
+for which no penitence can atone. This seemed
+to be one of them. Her first impulse was to dis-
+miss the Duke forthwith and for ever. But she
+wanted to show herself at the races. And she
+could not go alone. And except the Duke there
+was no one to take her. True, there was the con-
+cert to-night; and she could show herself there to
+advantage; but she wanted <i>all</i> Oxford to see her
+-- see her <i>now</i>.
+     "I am forgiven?" he asked. In her, I am
+afraid, self-respect outweighed charity. "I will
+try," she said merely, "to forget what you have
+done." Motioning him to her side, she opened
+her parasol, and signified her readiness to start.
+     They passed together across the vast gravelled
+expanse of the Front Quadrangle. In the porch
+of the College there were, as usual, some chained-
+up dogs, patiently awaiting their masters. Zuleika,
+of course, did not care for dogs. One has never
+known a good man to whom dogs were not dear;
+but many of the best women have no such fond-
+ness. You will find that the woman who is really
+kind to dogs is always one who has failed to
+
+
+96       ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+inspire sympathy in men. For the attractive
+woman, dogs are mere dumb and restless brutes --
+possibly dangerous, certainly soulless. Yet will
+coquetry teach her to caress any dog in the pres-
+ence of a man enslaved by her. Even Zuleika, it
+seems, was not above this rather obvious device
+for awaking envy. Be sure she did not at all like
+the look of the very big bulldog who was squatting
+outside the porter's lodge. Perhaps, but for her
+present anger, she would not have stooped en-
+dearingly down to him, as she did, cooing over
+him and trying to pat his head. Alas, her pretty
+act was a failure. The bulldog cowered away
+from her, horrifically grimacing. This was
+strange. Like the majority of his breed, Corker
+(for such was his name) had ever been wistful
+to be noticed by any one -- effusively grateful for
+every word or pat, an ever-ready wagger and
+nuzzler, to none ineffable. No beggar, no burglar,
+had ever been rebuffed by this catholic beast. But
+he drew the line at Zuleika.
+     Seldom is even a fierce bulldog heard to growl.
+Yet Corker growled at Zuleika.
+
+
+VII
+
+THE Duke did not try to break the stony silence
+in which Zuleika walked. Her displeasure was a
+luxury to him, for it was so soon to be dispelled.
+A little while, and she would be hating herself for
+her pettiness. Here was he, going to die for her;
+and here was she, blaming him for a breach of
+manners. Decidedly, the slave had the whip-
+hand. He stole a sidelong look at her, and could
+not repress a smile. His features quickly com-
+posed themselves. The Triumph of Death must
+not be handled as a cheap score. He wanted to
+die because he would thereby so poignantly con-
+summate his love, express it so completely, once
+and for all. . . And she -- who could say that she,
+knowing what he had done, might not, illogically,
+come to love him? Perhaps she would devote her
+life to mourning him. He saw her bending over
+his tomb, in beautiful humble curves, under a star-
+less sky, watering the violets with her tears.
+     Shades of Novalis and Friedrich Schlegel and
+other despicable maunderers! He brushed them
+aside. He would be practical. The point was,
+when and how to die? Time: the sooner the
+
+97
+
+
+98       ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+better. Manner: . . less easy to determine. He
+must not die horribly, nor without dignity. The
+manner of the Roman philosophers? But the
+only kind of bath which an undergraduate can
+command is a hip-bath. Stay! there was the
+river. Drowning (he had often heard) was a
+rather pleasant sensation. And to the river he
+was even now on his way.
+     It troubled him that he could swim. Twice,
+indeed, from his yacht, he had swum the
+Hellespont. And how about the animal instinct
+of self-preservation, strong even in despair? No
+matter! His soul's set purpose would subdue
+that. The law of gravitation that brings one to
+the surface? There his very skill in swimming
+would help him. He would swim under water,
+along the river-bed, swim till he found weeds to
+cling to, weird strong weeds that he would coil
+round him, exulting faintly. . .
+     As they turned into Radcliffe Square, the Duke's
+ear caught the sound of a far-distant gun. He
+started, and looked up at the clock of St. Mary's.
+Half-past four! The boats had started.
+     He had heard that whenever a woman was
+to blame for a disappointment, the best way to
+avoid a scene was to inculpate oneself. He did
+not wish Zuleika to store up yet more material
+for penitence. And so "I am sorry," he said.
+"That gun -- did you hear it? It was the signal
+for the race. I shall never forgive myself."
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON       99
+
+     "Then we shan't see the race at all?" cried
+Zuleika.
+     "It will be over, alas, before we are near the
+river. All the people will be coming back through
+the meadows."
+     "Let us meet them."
+     "Meet a torrent? Let us have tea in my rooms
+and go down quietly for the other Division."
+     "Let us go straight on."
+     Through the square, across the High, down
+Grove Street, they passed. The Duke looked up
+at the tower of Merton, <i>os oupot authis alla
+nyn paunstaton</i>. Strange that to-night it would
+still be standing here, in all its sober and solid
+beauty -- still be gazing, over the roofs and chim-
+neys, at the tower of Magdalen, its rightful bride.
+Through untold centuries of the future it would
+stand thus, gaze thus. He winced. Oxford walls
+have a way of belittling us; and the Duke was
+loth to regard his doom as trivial.
+     Aye, by all minerals we are mocked. Vegeta-
+bles, yearly deciduous, are far more sympathetic.
+The lilac and laburnum, making lovely now the
+railed pathway to Christ Church meadow, were
+all a-swaying and a-nodding to the Duke as he
+passed by. "Adieu, adieu, your Grace," they
+were whispering. "We are very sorry for you --
+very sorry indeed. We never dared suppose you
+would predecease us. We think your death a very
+great tragedy. Adieu! Perhaps we shall meet in
+
+
+100      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+another world -- that is, if the members of the
+animal kingdom have immortal souls, as we
+have."
+     The Duke was little versed in their language;
+yet, as he passed between these gently garrulous
+blooms, he caught at least the drift of their salu-
+tation, and smiled a vague but courteous acknowl-
+edgment, to the right and the left alternately,
+creating a very favourable impression.
+     No doubt, the young elms lining the straight
+way to the barges had seen him coming; but any
+whispers of their leaves were lost in the murmur
+of the crowd returning from the race. Here, at
+length, came the torrent of which the Duke had
+spoken; and Zuleika's heart rose at it. Here was
+Oxford! From side to side the avenue was filled
+with a dense procession of youths -- youths inter-
+spersed with maidens whose parasols were as
+flotsam and jetsam on a seething current of straw
+hats. Zuleika neither quickened nor slackened
+her advance. But brightlier and brightlier shone
+her eyes.
+     The vanguard of the procession was pausing
+now, swaying, breaking at sight of her. She
+passed, imperial, through the way cloven for her.
+All a-down the avenue, the throng parted as
+though some great invisible comb were being
+drawn through it. The few youths who had
+already seen Zuleika, and by whom her beauty
+had been bruited throughout the University, were
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON    101
+
+lost in a new wonder, so incomparably fairer was
+she than the remembered vision. And the rest
+hardly recognised her from the descriptions, so
+incomparably fairer was the reality than the
+hope.
+     She passed among them. None questioned the
+worthiness of her escort. Could I give you better
+proof the awe in which our Duke was held? Any
+man is glad to be seen escorting a very pretty
+woman. He thinks it adds to his prestige.
+Whereas, in point of fact, his fellow-men are say-
+ing merely "Who's that appalling fellow with
+her?" or "Why does she go about with that ass
+So-and-So?" Such cavil may in part be envy. But
+it is a fact that no man, howsoever graced, can
+shine in juxtaposition to a very pretty woman.
+The Duke himself cut a poor figure beside Zu-
+leika. Yet not one of all the undergraduates felt
+she could have made a wiser choice.
+     She swept among them. Her own intrinsic
+radiance was not all that flashed from her. She
+was a moving reflector and refractor of all the
+rays of all the eyes that mankind had turned on
+her. Her mien told the story of her days. Bright
+eyes, light feet -- she trod erect from a vista whose
+glare was dazzling to all beholders. She swept
+among them, a miracle, overwhelming, breath-
+bereaving. Nothing at all like her had ever been
+seen in Oxford.
+     Mainly architectural, the beauties of Oxford.
+
+
+102      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+True, the place is no longer one-sexed. There
+are the virguncules of Somerville and Lady Mar-
+garet's Hall; but beauty and the lust for learning
+have yet to be allied. There are the innumerable
+wives and daughters around the Parks, running
+in and out of their little red-brick villas; but the
+indignant shade of celibacy seems to have called
+down on the dons a Nemesis which precludes them
+from either marrying beauty or begetting it.
+(From the Warden's son, that unhappy curate,
+Zuleika inherited no tittle of her charm. Some of
+it, there is no doubt, she did inherit from the
+circus-rider who was her mother.)
+     But the casual feminine visitors? Well, the
+sisters and cousins of an undergraduate seldom
+seem more passable to his comrades than to him-
+self. Altogether, the instinct of sex is not pan-
+dered to in Oxford. It is not, however, as it may
+once have been, dormant. The modern importation
+of samples of femininity serves to keep it alert,
+though not to gratify it. A like result is achieved
+by another modern development -- photography.
+The undergraduate may, and usually does, sur-
+round himself with photographs of pretty ladies
+known to the public. A phantom harem! Yet the
+houris have an effect on their sultan. Surrounded
+both by plain women of flesh and blood and by
+beauteous women on pasteboard, the undergradu-
+ate is the easiest victim of living loveliness -- is as
+a fire ever well and truly laid, amenable to a
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      103
+
+spark. And if the spark be such a flaring
+torch as Zuleika? -- marvel not, reader, at the
+conflagration.
+     Not only was the whole throng of youths
+drawing asunder before her: much of it, as she
+passed, was forming up in her wake. Thus, with
+the confluence of two masses -- one coming away
+from the river, the other returning to it -- chaos
+seethed around her and the Duke before they
+were half-way along the avenue. Behind them,
+and on either side of them, the people were
+crushed inextricably together, swaying and surg-
+ing this way and that. "Help!" cried many a
+shrill feminine voice. "Don't push!" "Let me
+out!" "You brute!" "Save me, save me!"
+Many ladies fainted, whilst their escorts, support-
+ing them and protecting them as best they could,
+peered over the heads of their fellows for one
+glimpse of the divine Miss Dobson. Yet for her
+and the Duke, in the midst of the terrific com-
+press, there was space enough. In front of them,
+as by a miracle of deference, a way still cleared
+itself. They reached the end of the avenue with-
+out a pause in their measured progress. Nor even
+when they turned to the left, along the rather nar-
+row path beside the barges, was there any ob-
+stacle to their advance. Passing evenly forward,
+they alone were cool, unhustled, undishevelled.
+     The Duke was so rapt in his private thoughts
+that he was hardly conscious of the strange scene.
+
+
+104      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+And as for Zuleika, she, as well she might be,
+was in the very best of good humours.
+     "What a lot of house-boats!" she exclaimed.
+"Are you going to take me on to one of them?"
+     The Duke started. Already they were along-
+side the Judas barge. "Here," he said, "is our
+goal."
+     He stepped through the gate of the railings,
+out upon the plank, and offered her his hand.
+     She looked back. The young men in the van-
+guard were crushing their shoulders against the
+row behind them, to stay the oncoming host. She
+had half a mind to go back through the midst of
+them; but she really did want her tea, and she
+followed the Duke on to the barge, and under his
+auspices climbed the steps to the roof.
+     It looked very cool and gay, this roof, under its
+awning of red and white stripes. Nests of red
+and white flowers depended along either side of
+it. Zuleika moved to the side which commanded
+a view of the bank. She leaned her arms on the
+balustrade, and gazed down.
+     The crowd stretched as far as she could see --
+a vista of faces upturned to her. Suddenly it hove
+forward. Its vanguard was swept irresistibly
+past the barge -- swept by the desire of the rest
+to see her at closer quarters. Such was the im-
+petus that the vision for each man was but a
+lightning-flash: he was whirled past, struggling,
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      105
+
+almost before his brain took the message of his
+eyes.
+     Those who were Judas men made frantic ef-
+forts to board the barge, trying to hurl them-
+selves through the gate in the railings; but they
+were swept vainly on.
+     Presently the torrent began to slacken, became
+a mere river, a mere procession of youths staring
+up rather shyly.
+     Before the last stragglers had marched by,
+Zuleika moved away to the other side of the roof,
+and, after a glance at the sunlit river, sank into
+one of the wicker chairs, and asked the Duke
+to look less disagreeable and to give her some tea.
+     Among others hovering near the little buffet
+were the two youths whose parley with the Duke
+I have recorded.
+     Zuleika was aware of the special persistence of
+their gaze. When the Duke came back with her
+cup, she asked him who they were. He replied,
+truthfully enough, that their names were unknown
+to him.
+     "Then," she said, "ask them their names, and
+introduce them to me."
+     "No," said the Duke, sinking into the chair
+beside her. "That I shall not do. I am your
+victim: not your pander. Those two men stand
+on the threshold of a possibly useful and agree-
+able career. I am not going to trip them up for
+you."
+
+
+106      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+     "I am not sure," said Zuleika, "that you are
+very polite. Certainly you are foolish. It is nat-
+ural for boys to fall in love. If these two are in
+love with me, why not let them talk to me? It
+were an experience on which they would always
+look back with romantic pleasure. They may
+never see me again. Why grudge them this little
+thing?" She sipped her tea. "As for tripping
+them up on a threshold -- that is all nonsense.
+What harm has unrequited love ever done to any-
+body?" She laughed. "Look at <i>me!</i>  When I
+came to your rooms this morning, thinking I loved
+in vain, did I seem one jot the worse for it? Did
+I look different?"
+     "You looked, I am bound to say, nobler, more
+spiritual."
+     "More spiritual?" she exclaimed. "Do you
+mean I looked tired or ill?"
+     "No, you seemed quite fresh. But then, you
+are singular. You are no criterion."
+     "You mean you can't judge those two young
+men by me? Well, I am only a woman, of course.
+I have heard of women, no longer young, wasting
+away because no man loved them. I have often
+heard of a young woman fretting because some
+particular young man didn't love her. But I never
+heard of her wasting away. Certainly a young
+man doesn't waste away for love of some partic-
+ular young woman. He very soon makes love
+to some other one. If his be an ardent nature,
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      107
+
+the quicker his transition. All the most ardent of
+my past adorers have married. Will you put my
+cup down, please?"
+     "Past?" echoed the Duke, as he placed her cup
+on the floor. "Have any of your lovers ceased to
+love you?"
+     "Ah no, no; not in retrospect. I remain their
+ideal, and all that, of course. They cherish the
+thought of me. They see the world in terms of
+me. But I am an inspiration, not an obsession;
+a glow, not a blight."
+     "You don't believe in the love that corrodes,
+the love that ruins?"
+     "No," laughed Zuleika.
+     "You have never dipped into the Greek pas-
+toral poets, nor sampled the Elizabethan son-
+neteers?"
+     "No, never. You will think me lamentably
+crude: my experience of life has been drawn from
+life itself."
+     "Yet often you talk as though you had read
+rather much. Your way of speech has what is
+called 'the literary flavour'."
+     "Ah, that is an unfortunate trick which I caught
+from a writer, a Mr. Beerbohm, who once sat
+next to me at dinner somewhere. I can't break
+myself of it. I assure you I hardly ever open a
+book. Of life, though, my experience has been
+very wide. Brief? But I suppose the soul of
+man during the past two or three years has been
+
+
+108     ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+much as it was in the reign of Queen Elizabeth
+and of -- whoever it was that reigned over the
+Greek pastures. And I daresay the modern poets
+are making the same old silly distortions. But
+forgive me," she added gently, "perhaps you
+yourself are a poet?"
+     "Only since yesterday," answered the Duke
+(not less unfairly to himself than to Roger New-
+digate and Thomas Gaisford). And he felt he
+was especially a dramatic poet. All the while
+that she had been sitting by him here, talking so
+glibly, looking so straight into his eyes, flashing
+at him so many pretty gestures, it was the sense
+of tragic irony that prevailed in him -- that sense
+which had stirred in him, and been repressed, on
+the way from Judas. He knew that she was mak-
+ing her effect consciously for the other young
+men by whom the roof of the barge was now
+thronged. Him alone she seemed to observe. By
+her manner, she might have seemed to be making
+love to him. He envied the men she was so de-
+liberately making envious -- the men whom, in her
+undertone to him, she was really addressing. But
+he did take comfort in the irony. Though she
+used him as a stalking-horse, he, after all, was
+playing with her as a cat plays with a mouse.
+While she chattered on, without an inkling that
+he was no ordinary lover, and coaxing him to pre-
+sent two quite ordinary young men to her, he held
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      109
+
+over her the revelation that he for love of her
+was about to die.
+     And, while he drank in the radiance of her
+beauty, he heard her chattering on. "So you see,"
+she was saying, "it couldn't do those young men
+any harm. Suppose unrequited love <i>is</i> anguish:
+isn't the discipline wholesome? Suppose I <i>am</i>
+a sort of furnace: shan't I purge, refine, temper?
+Those two boys are but scorched from here. That
+is horrid; and what good will it do them?" She
+laid a hand on his arm. "Cast them into the fur-
+nace for their own sake, dear Duke! Or cast one
+of them, or," she added, glancing round at the
+throng, "any one of these others!"
+     "For their own sake?" he echoed, withdrawing
+his arm. "If you were not, as the whole world
+knows you to be, perfectly respectable, there
+might be something in what you say. But as it is,
+you can but be an engine for mischief; and your
+sophistries leave me unmoved. I shall certainly
+keep you to myself."
+     "I hate you," said Zuleika, with an ugly petu-
+lance that crowned the irony.
+     "So long as I live," uttered the Duke, in a
+level voice, "you will address no man but me."
+     "If your prophecy is to be fulfilled," laughed
+Zuleika, rising from her chair, "your last moment
+is at hand."
+     "It is," he answered, rising too.
+
+
+110      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+     "What do you mean?" she asked, awed by
+something in his tone.
+     "I mean what I say: that my last moment is
+at hand." He withdrew his eyes from hers, and,
+leaning his elbows on the balustrade, gazed
+thoughtfully at the river. "When I am dead,"
+he added, over his shoulder, "you will find these
+fellows rather coy of your advances."
+     For the first time since his avowal of his love
+for her, Zuleika found herself genuinely inter-
+ested in him. A suspicion of his meaning had
+flashed through her soul. -- But no! surely he could
+not mean <i>that!</i> It must have been a metaphor
+merely. And yet, something in his eyes. . . She
+leaned beside him. Her shoulder touched his.
+She gazed questioningly at him. He did not turn
+his face to her. He gazed at the sunlit river.
+     The Judas Eight had just embarked for their
+voyage to the starting-point. Standing on the
+edge of the raft that makes a floating platform
+for the barge, William, the hoary bargee, was
+pushing them off with his boat-hook, wishing them
+luck with deferential familiarity. The raft was
+thronged with Old Judasians -- mostly clergymen
+-- who were shouting hearty hortations, and evi-
+dently trying not to appear so old as they felt --
+or rather, not to appear so startlingly old as their
+contemporaries looked to them. It occurred to
+the Duke as a strange thing, and a thing to be
+glad of, that he, in this world, would never be
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      111
+
+an Old Judasian. Zuleika's shoulder pressed his
+He thrilled not at all. To all intents, he was
+dead already.
+     The enormous eight young men in the thread-
+like skiff -- the skiff that would scarce have seemed
+an adequate vehicle for the tiny "cox" who sat
+facing them -- were staring up at Zuleika with
+that uniformity of impulse which, in another
+direction, had enabled them to bump a boat on
+two of the previous "nights." If to-night they
+bumped the next boat, Univ., then would Judas
+be three places "up" on the river; and to-morrow
+Judas would have a Bump Supper. Furthermore,
+if Univ. were bumped to-night, Magdalen might
+be bumped to-morrow. Then would Judas, for
+the first time in history, be head of the river. Oh
+tremulous hope! Yet, for the moment, these
+eight young men seemed to have forgotten the
+awful responsibility that rested on their over-
+developed shoulders. Their hearts, already
+strained by rowing, had been transfixed this after-
+noon by Eros' darts. All of them had seen Zu-
+leika as she came down to the river; and now
+they sat gaping up at her, fumbling with their
+oars. The tiny cox gaped too; but he it was who
+first recalled duty. With piping adjurations he
+brought the giants back to their senses. The boat
+moved away down stream, with a fairly steady
+stroke.
+     Not in a day can the traditions of Oxford be
+
+
+112    ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+sent spinning. From all the barges the usual
+punt-loads of young men were being ferried across
+to the towing-path -- young men naked of knee,
+armed with rattles, post-horns, motor-hooters,
+gongs, and other instruments of clangour. Though
+Zuleika filled their thoughts, they hurried along
+the towing-path, as by custom, to the starting-
+point.
+     She, meanwhile, had not taken her eyes off the
+Duke's profile. Nor had she dared, for fear of
+disappointment, to ask him just what he had
+meant.
+     "All these men," he repeated dreamily, "will
+be coy of your advances." It seemed to him a
+good thing that his death, his awful example,
+would disinfatuate his fellow alumni. He had
+never been conscious of public spirit. He had
+lived for himself alone. Love had come to him
+yesternight, and to-day had waked in him a sym-
+pathy with mankind. It was a fine thing to be a
+saviour. It was splendid to be human. He looked
+quickly round to her who had wrought this
+change in him.
+     But the loveliest face in all the world will not
+please you if you see it suddenly, eye to eye, at a
+distance of half an inch from your own. It was
+thus that the Duke saw Zuleika's: a monstrous
+deliquium a-glare. Only for the fraction of an
+instant, though. Recoiling, he beheld the loveli-
+ness that he knew -- more adorably vivid now in
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      113
+
+its look of eager questioning. And in his every
+fibre he thrilled to her. Even so had she gazed at
+him last night, this morning. Aye, now as then,
+her soul was full of him. He had recaptured, not
+her love, but his power to please her. It was
+enough. He bowed his head; and <i>Moriturus te
+saluto</i> were the words formed silently by his lips.
+He was glad that his death would be a public
+service to the University. But the salutary lesson
+of what the newspapers would call his "rash act"
+was, after all, only a side-issue. The great thing,
+the prospect that flushed his cheek, was the con-
+summation of his own love, for its own sake, by
+his own death. And, as he met her gaze, the
+question that had already flitted through his brain
+found a faltering utterance; and "Shall you mourn
+me?" he asked her.
+     But she would have no ellipses. "What are
+you going to do?" she whispered.
+     "Do you not know?"
+     "Tell me."
+     "Once and for all: you cannot love me?"
+     Slowly she shook her head. The black pearl
+and the pink, quivering, gave stress to her ulti-
+matum. But the violet of her eyes was all but
+hidden by the dilation of her pupils.
+     "Then," whispered the Duke, "when I shall
+have died, deeming life a vain thing without you,
+will the gods give you tears for me? Miss Dob-
+son, will your soul awaken? When I shall have
+
+
+114      ZULEIKA DOBSON         
+
+sunk for ever beneath these waters whose sup-
+posed purpose here this afternoon is but that they
+be ploughed by the blades of these young oars-
+men, will there be struck from that flint, your
+heart, some late and momentary spark of pity
+for me?"
+     "Why of course, of <i>course!</i>" babbled Zuleika,
+with clasped hands and dazzling eyes. "But,"
+she curbed herself, "it is -- it would -- oh, you
+mustn't <i>think</i> of it! I couldn't allow it! I -- I
+should never forgive myself!"
+     "In fact, you would mourn me always?"
+     "Why yes!. . Y-es-always." What else
+could she say? But would his answer be that he
+dared not condemn her to lifelong torment?
+     "Then," his answer was, "my joy in dying for
+you is made perfect."
+     Her muscles relaxed. Her breath escaped be-
+tween her teeth. "You are utterly resolved?" she
+asked. "Are you?"
+     "Utterly."
+     "Nothing I might say could change your
+purpose?"
+     "Nothing."
+     "No entreaty, howsoever piteous, could move
+you?"
+     "None."
+     Forthwith she urged, entreated, cajoled, com-
+manded, with infinite prettiness of ingenuity and
+of eloquence. Never was such a cascade of dis-
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      115
+
+suasion as hers. She only didn't say she could
+love him. She never hinted that. Indeed,
+throughout her pleading rang this recurrent
+<i>motif</i>: that he must live to take to himself as
+mate some good, serious, clever woman who
+would be a not unworthy mother of his children.
+     She laid stress on his youth, his great position,
+his brilliant attainments, the much he had already
+achieved, the splendid possibilities of his future.
+Though of course she spoke in undertones, not
+to be overheard by the throng on the barge, it
+was almost as though his health were being flor-
+idly proposed at some public banquet -- say, at a
+Tenants' Dinner. Insomuch that, when she
+ceased, the Duke half expected Jellings, his
+steward, to bob up uttering, with lifted hands,
+a stentorian "For-or," and all the company to
+take up the chant: "<i>he's -- a jolly good fellow</i>."
+His brief reply, on those occasions, seemed al-
+ways to indicate that, whatever else he might be,
+a jolly good fellow he was not. But by Zuleika's
+eulogy he really was touched. "Thank you --
+thank you," he gasped; and there were tears in
+his eyes. Dear the thought that she so revered
+him, so wished him not to die. But this was no
+more than a rush-light in the austere radiance of
+his joy in dying for her.
+     And the time was come. Now for the sacra-
+ment of his immersion in infinity.
+     "Good-bye," he said simply, and was about to
+
+
+116      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+swing himself on to the ledge of the balustrade.
+Zuleika, divining his intention, made way for him.
+Her bosom heaved quickly, quickly. All colour
+had left her face; but her eyes shone as never
+before.
+     Already his foot was on the ledge, when hark!
+the sound of a distant gun. To Zuleika, with all
+the chords of her soul strung to the utmost tensity,
+the effect was as if she herself had been shot; and
+she clutched at the Duke's arm, like a frightened
+child. He laughed. "It was the signal for the
+race," he said, and laughed again, rather bitterly,
+at the crude and trivial interruption of high
+matters.
+     "The race?" She laughed hysterically.
+     "Yes. 'They're off'." He mingled his laugh-
+ter with hers, gently seeking to disengage his arm.
+"And perhaps," he said, "I, clinging to the weeds
+of the river's bed, shall see dimly the boats and
+the oars pass over me, and shall be able to gurgle
+a cheer for Judas."
+     "Don't!" she shuddered, with a woman's no-
+tion that a jest means levity. A tumult of
+thoughts surged in her, all confused. She only
+knew that he must not die -- not yet! A moment
+ago, his death would have been beautiful. Not
+now! Her grip of his arm tightened. Only by
+breaking her wrist could he have freed himself.
+A moment ago, she had been in the seventh-
+heaven. . . Men were supposed to have died for
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      117
+
+love of her. It had never been proved. There
+had always been something -- card-debts, ill-
+health, what not -- to account for the tragedy. No
+man, to the best of her recollection, had ever
+hinted that he was going to die for her. Never,
+assuredly, had she seen the deed done. And then
+came he, the first man she had loved, going to
+die here, before her eyes, because she no longer
+loved him. But she knew now that he must not
+die -- not yet!
+     All around her was the hush that falls on Ox-
+ford when the signal for the race has sounded.
+In the distance could be heard faintly the noise
+of cheering -- a little sing-song sound, drawing
+nearer.
+     Ah, how could she have thought of letting him
+die so soon? She gazed into his face -- the face
+she might never have seen again. Even now, but
+for that gun-shot, the waters would have closed
+over him, and his soul, maybe, have passed away.
+She had saved him, thank heaven! She had him
+still with her.
+     Gently, vainly, he still sought to unclasp her
+fingers from his arm.
+     "Not now!" she whispered. "Not yet!"
+     And the noise of the cheering, and of the
+trumpeting and rattling, as it drew near, was an
+accompaniment to her joy in having saved her
+lover. She would keep him with her -- for a
+while! Let all be done in order. She would
+
+
+118     ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+savour the full sweetness of his sacrifice. To-
+morrow -- to-morrow, yes, let him have his heart's
+desire of death. Not now! Not yet!
+     "To-morrow," she whispered, "to-morrow, if
+you will. Not yet!"
+     The first boat came jerking past in mid-stream;
+and the towing-path, with its serried throng of
+runners, was like a live thing, keeping pace. As
+in a dream, Zuleika saw it. And the din was in
+her ears. No heroine of Wagner had ever a
+louder accompaniment than had ours to the surg-
+ing soul within her bosom.
+     And the Duke, tightly held by her, vibrated
+as to a powerful electric current. He let her
+cling to him, and her magnetism range through
+him. Ah, it was good not to have died! Fool,
+he had meant to drain off-hand, at one coarse
+draught, the delicate wine of death. He would
+let his lips caress the brim of the august goblet.
+He would dally with the aroma that was there.
+     
+"So be it!" he cried into Zuleika's ear -- cried
+loudly, for it seemed as though all the Wagnerian
+orchestras of Europe, with the Straussian ones
+thrown in, were here to clash in unison the full
+volume of right music for the glory of the
+reprieve.
+     The fact was that the Judas boat had just
+bumped Univ., exactly opposite the Judas barge.
+The oarsmen in either boat sat humped, panting,
+some of them rocking and writhing, after their
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      119
+
+wholesome exercise. But there was not one of
+them whose eyes were not upcast at Zuleika. And
+the vocalisation and instrumentation of the
+dancers and stampers on the towing-path had by
+this time ceased to mean aught of joy in the
+victors or of comfort for the vanquished, and had
+resolved itself into a wild wordless hymn to the
+glory of Miss Dobson. Behind her and all
+around her on the roof of the barge, young Ju-
+dasians were venting in like manner their hearts
+through their lungs. She paid no heed. It was
+as if she stood alone with her lover on some
+silent pinnacle of the world. It was as if she
+were a little girl with a brand-new and very ex-
+pensive doll which had banished all the little other
+old toys from her mind.
+     She simply could not, in her na&iuml;ve rapture, take
+her eyes off her companion. To the dancers and
+stampers of the towing-path, many of whom were
+now being ferried back across the river, and to
+the other youths on the roof of the barge, Zu-
+leika's air of absorption must have seemed a little
+strange. For already the news that the Duke
+loved Zuleika, and that she loved him not, and
+would stoop to no man who loved her, had spread
+like wild-fire among the undergraduates. The
+two youths in whom the Duke had deigned to
+confide had not held their peace. And the effect
+that Zuleika had made as she came down to the
+river was intensified by the knowledge that not
+
+
+120     ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+the great paragon himself did she deem worthy
+of her. The mere sight of her had captured
+young Oxford. The news of her supernal
+haughtiness had riveted the chains.
+     "Come!" said the Duke at length, staring
+around him with the eyes of one awakened from
+a dream. "Come! I must take you back to
+Judas."
+     "But you won't leave me there?" pleaded Zu-
+leika. "You will stay to dinner? I am sure my
+grandfather would be delighted."
+     "I am sure he would," said the Duke, as he
+piloted her down the steps of the barge. "But
+alas, I have to dine at the Junta to-night."
+     "The Junta? What is that?"
+     "A little dining-club. It meets every Tuesday."
+     "But -- you don't mean you are going to refuse
+me for that?"
+     "To do so is misery. But I have no choice.
+I have asked a guest."
+     "Then ask another: ask me!" Zuleika's no-
+tions of Oxford life were rather hazy. It was
+with difficulty that the Duke made her realise
+that he could not -- not even if, as she suggested,
+she dressed herself up as a man -- invite her to
+the Junta. She then fell back on the impossibility
+that he would not dine with her to-night, his last
+night in this world. She could not understand
+that admirable fidelity to social engagements
+which is one of the virtues implanted in the mem-
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      121
+
+bers of our aristocracy. Bohemian by training
+and by career, she construed the Duke's refusal
+as either a cruel slight to herself or an act of
+imbecility. The thought of being parted from her
+for one moment was torture to him; but <i>noblesse
+oblige</i>, and it was quite impossible for him to
+break an engagement merely because a more
+charming one offered itself: he would as soon
+have cheated at cards.
+     And so, as they went side by side up the avenue,
+in the mellow light of the westering sun, preceded
+in their course, and pursued, and surrounded, by
+the mob of hoarse infatuate youths, Zuleika's face
+was as that of a little girl sulking. Vainly the
+Duke reasoned with her. She could <i>not</i> see the
+point of view.
+     With that sudden softening that comes to the
+face of an angry woman who has hit on a good
+argument, she turned to him and asked "How if
+I hadn't saved your life just now? Much you
+thought about your guest when you were going
+to dive and die!"
+     "I did not forget him," answered the Duke,
+smiling at her casuistry. "Nor had I any scruple
+in disappointing him. Death cancels all engage-
+ments."
+     And Zuleika, worsted, resumed her sulking.
+But presently, as they neared Judas, she re-
+lented. It was paltry to be cross with him who
+had resolved to die for her and was going to die
+
+
+122      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+so on the morrow. And after all, she would see
+him at the concert to-night. They would sit to-
+gether. And all to-morrow they would be together,
+till the time came for parting. Hers was a nat-
+urally sunny disposition. And the evening was
+such a lovely one, all bathed in gold. She was
+ashamed of her ill-humour.
+     "Forgive me," she said, touching his arm.
+"Forgive me for being horrid." And forgiven
+she promptly was. "And promise you will spend
+all to-morrow with me." And of course he
+promised.
+     As they stood together on the steps of the
+Warden's front-door, exalted above the level of
+the flushed and swaying crowd that filled the
+whole length and breadth of Judas Street, she
+implored him not to be late for the concert.
+     "I am never late," he smiled.
+     "Ah, you're so beautifully brought up!"
+     The door was opened.
+     "And -- oh, you're beautiful besides!" she
+whispered; and waved her hand to him as she
+vanished into the hall.
+
+
+VIII
+
+A FEW minutes before half-past seven, the Duke,
+arrayed for dinner, passed leisurely up the High.
+The arresting feature of his costume was a mul-
+berry-coloured coat, with brass buttons. This, to
+any one versed in Oxford lore, betokened him a
+member of the Junta. It is awful to think that
+a casual stranger might have mistaken him for a
+footman. It does not do to think of such things.
+     The tradesmen, at the doors of their shops,
+bowed low as he passed, rubbing their hands and
+smiling, hoping inwardly that they took no liberty
+in sharing the cool rosy air of the evening with
+his Grace. They noted that he wore in his shirt-
+front a black pearl and a pink. "Daring, but
+becoming," they opined.
+     The rooms of the Junta were over a stationer's
+shop, next door but one to the Mitre. They were
+small rooms; but as the Junta had now, besides
+the Duke, only two members, and as no member
+might introduce more than one guest, there was
+ample space.
+     The Duke had been elected in his second term.
+At that time there were four members; but these
+were all leaving Oxford at the end of the summer
+
+123
+
+
+124      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+term, and there seemed to be in the ranks of the
+Bullingdon and the Loder no one quite eligible
+for the Junta, that holy of holies. Thus it was
+that the Duke inaugurated in solitude his second
+year of membership. From time to time, he
+proposed and seconded a few candidates, after
+"sounding" them as to whether they were willing
+to join. But always, when election evening -- the
+last Tuesday of term -- drew near, he began to
+have his doubts about these fellows. This one
+was "rowdy"; that one was over-dressed; another
+did not ride quite straight to hounds; in the
+pedigree of another a bar-sinister was more than
+suspected. Election evening was always a rather
+melancholy time. After dinner, when the two
+club servants had placed on the mahogany the
+time-worn Candidates' Book and the ballot-box,
+and had noiselessly withdrawn, the Duke, clearing
+his throat, read aloud to himself "Mr. So-and-So,
+of Such-and-Such College, proposed by the Duke
+of Dorset, seconded by the Duke of Dorset," and,
+in every case, when he drew out the drawer of the
+ballot-box, found it was a black-ball that he had
+dropped into the urn. Thus it was that at the
+end of the summer term the annual photographic
+"group" taken by Messrs. Hills and Saunders
+was a presentment of the Duke alone.
+     In the course of his third year he had become
+less exclusive. Not because there seemed to be
+any one really worthy of the Junta; but because
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      125
+
+the Junta, having thriven since the eighteenth
+century, must not die. Suppose -- one never knew
+-- he were struck by lightning, the Junta would
+be no more. So, not without reluctance, but
+unanimously, he had elected The MacQuern, of
+Balliol, and Sir John Marraby, of Brasenose.
+     To-night, as he, a doomed man, went up into
+the familiar rooms, he was wholly glad that he
+had thus relented. As yet, he was spared the
+tragic knowledge that it would make no dif-
+ference.*
+     The MacQuern and two other young men were
+already there.
+     "Mr. President," said The MacQuern, "I pre-
+sent Mr. Trent-Garby, of Christ Church."
+     "The Junta is honoured," said the Duke,
+bowing.
+     Such was the ritual of the club.
+     The other young man, because his host, Sir
+John Marraby, was not yet on the scene, had no
+<i>locus standi</i>, and, though a friend of The Mac-
+Quern, and well known to the Duke, had to be
+ignored.
+     A moment later, Sir John arrived. "Mr. Pres-
+ident," he said, "I present Lord Sayes, of Mag-
+dalen."
+     "The Junta is honoured," said the Duke,
+bowing.
+
+     * The Junta has been reconstituted. But the apostolic line
+was broken, the thread was snapped; the old magic is fled.
+
+
+126      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+     Both hosts and both guests, having been promi-
+nent in the throng that vociferated around Zuleika
+an hour earlier, were slightly abashed in the
+Duke's presence. He, however, had not noticed
+any one in particular, and, even if he had, that
+fine tradition of the club -- "A member of the
+Junta can do no wrong; a guest of the Junta can-
+not err" -- would have prevented him from show-
+ing his displeasure.
+     A Herculean figure filled the doorway.
+     "The Junta is honoured," said the Duke,
+bowing to his guest.
+     "Duke," said the newcomer quietly, "the hon-
+our is as much mine as that of the interesting and
+ancient institution which I am this night privileged
+to inspect."
+     Turning to Sir John and The MacQuern, the
+Duke said "I present Mr. Abimelech V. Oover,
+of Trinity."
+     "The Junta," they replied, "is honoured."
+     "Gentlemen," said the Rhodes Scholar, "your
+good courtesy is just such as I would have antici-
+pated from members of the ancient Junta. Like
+most of my countrymen, I am a man of few
+words. We are habituated out there to act rather
+than talk. Judged from the view-point of your
+beautiful old civilisation, I am aware my curtness
+must seem crude. But, gentlemen, believe me,
+right here --"
+     "Dinner is served, your Grace."
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      127
+
+     Thus interrupted, Mr. Oover, with the re-
+sourcefulness of a practised orator, brought his
+thanks to a quick but not abrupt conclusion. The
+little company passed into the front room.
+     Through the window, from the High, fading
+daylight mingled with the candle-light. The mul-
+berry coats of the hosts, interspersed by the black
+ones of the guests, made a fine pattern around
+the oval table a-gleam with the many curious
+pieces of gold and silver plate that had accrued
+to the Junta in course of years.
+     The President showed much deference to his
+guest. He seemed to listen with close attention
+to the humorous anecdote with which, in the
+American fashion, Mr. Oover inaugurated dinner.
+     To all Rhodes Scholars, indeed, his courtesy
+was invariable. He went out of his way to culti-
+vate them. And this he did more as a favour to
+Lord Milner than of his own caprice. He found
+these Scholars, good fellows though they were,
+rather oppressive. They had not -- how could they
+have? -- the undergraduate's virtue of taking Ox-
+ford as a matter of course. The Germans loved
+it too little, the Colonials too much. The Ameri-
+cans were, to a sensitive observer, the most
+troublesome -- as being the most troubled -- of the
+whole lot. The Duke was not one of those Eng-
+lishmen who fling, or care to hear flung, cheap
+sneers at America. Whenever any one in his
+presence said that America was not large in area,
+
+
+128      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+he would firmly maintain that it was. He held,
+too, in his enlightened way, that Americans have a
+perfect right to exist. But he did often find him-
+self wishing Mr. Rhodes had not enabled them
+to exercise that right in Oxford. They were so
+awfully afraid of having their strenuous native
+characters undermined by their delight in the
+place. They held that the future was theirs, a
+glorious asset, far more glorious than the past.
+But a theory, as the Duke saw, is one thing, an
+emotion another. It is so much easier to covet
+what one hasn't than to revel in what one has.
+Also, it is so much easier to be enthusiastic about
+what exists than about what doesn't. The future
+doesn't exist. The past does. For, whereas all
+men can learn, the gift of prophecy has died out.
+A man cannot work up in his breast any real ex-
+citement about what possibly won't happen. He
+cannot very well help being sentimentally inter-
+ested in what he knows has happened. On the
+other hand, he owes a duty to his country. And,
+if his country be America, he ought to try to feel
+a vivid respect for the future, and a cold contempt
+for the past. Also, if he be selected by his
+country as a specimen of the best moral, physical,
+and intellectual type that she can produce for the
+astounding of the effete foreigner, and incidentally
+for the purpose of raising that foreigner's tone,
+he must -- mustn't he? -- do his best to astound,
+to exalt. But then comes in this difficulty. Young
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      129
+
+men don't like to astound and exalt their fellows.
+And Americans, individually, are of all people
+the most anxious to please. That they talk over-
+much is often taken as a sign of self-satisfaction.
+It is merely a mannerism. Rhetoric is a thing in-
+bred in them. They are quite unconscious of it.
+It is as natural to them as breathing. And, while
+they talk on, they really do believe that they are
+a quick, businesslike people, by whom things are
+"put through" with an almost brutal abruptness.
+This notion of theirs is rather confusing to the
+patient English auditor.
+     Altogether, the American Rhodes Scholars,
+with their splendid native gift of oratory, and
+their modest desire to please, and their not less
+evident feeling that they ought merely to edify,
+and their constant delight in all that of Oxford
+their English brethren don't notice, and their con-
+stant fear that they are being corrupted, are a
+noble, rather than a comfortable, element in the
+social life of the University. So, at least, they
+seemed to the Duke.
+     And to-night, but that he had invited Oover
+to dine with him, he could have been dining with
+Zuleika. And this was his last dinner on earth.
+Such thoughts made him the less able to take
+pleasure in his guest. Perfect, however, the
+amenity of his manner.
+     This was the more commendable because
+Oover's "aura" was even more disturbing than
+
+
+130      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+that of the average Rhodes Scholar. To-night,
+besides the usual conflicts in this young man's
+bosom, raged a special one between his desire
+to behave well and his jealousy of the man who
+had to-day been Miss Dobson's escort. In theory
+he denied the Duke's right to that honour. In
+sentiment he admitted it. Another conflict, you
+see. And another. He longed to orate about the
+woman who had his heart; yet she was the one
+topic that must be shirked.
+     The MacQuern and Mr. Trent-Garby, Sir John
+Marraby and Lord Sayes, they too -- though they
+were no orators -- would fain have unpacked their
+hearts in words about Zuleika. They spoke of
+this and that, automatically, none listening to an-
+other -- each man listening, wide-eyed, to his own
+heart's solo on the Zuleika theme, and drinking
+rather more champagne than was good for him.
+Maybe, these youths sowed in themselves, on this
+night, the seeds of lifelong intemperance. We
+cannot tell. They did not live long enough for
+us to know.
+     While the six dined, a seventh, invisible to
+them, leaned moodily against the mantel-piece,
+watching them. He was not of their time. His
+long brown hair was knotted in a black riband
+behind. He wore a pale brocaded coat and lace
+ruffles, silken stockings, a sword. Privy to their
+doom, he watched them. He was loth that his
+Junta must die. Yes, his. Could the diners have
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      131
+
+seen him, they would have known him by his
+resemblance to the mezzotint portrait that hung
+on the wall above him. They would have risen to
+their feet in presence of Humphrey Greddon,
+founder and first president of the club.
+     His face was not so oval, nor were his eyes so
+big, nor his lips so full, nor his hands so delicate,
+as they appeared in the mezzotint. Yet (bating
+the conventions of eighteenth-century portraiture)
+the likeness was a good one. Humphrey Greddon
+was not less well-knit and graceful than the
+painter had made him, and, hard though the lines
+of the face were, there was about him a certain
+air of high romance that could not be explained
+away by the fact that he was of a period not our
+own. You could understand the great love that
+Nellie O'Mora had borne him.
+     Under the mezzotint hung Hoppner's minia-
+ture of that lovely and ill-starred girl, with her
+soft dark eyes, and her curls all astray from be-
+neath her little blue turban. And the Duke was
+telling Mr. Oover her story -- how she had left
+her home for Humphrey Greddon when she was
+but sixteen, and he an undergraduate at Christ
+Church; and had lived for him in a cottage at
+Littlemore, whither he would ride, most days, to
+be with her; and how he tired of her, broke his
+oath that he would marry her, thereby broke her
+heart; and how she drowned herself in a mill-
+pond; and how Greddon was killed in Venice, two
+
+
+132      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+years later, duelling on the Riva Schiavoni with
+a Senator whose daughter he had seduced.
+     And he, Greddon, was not listening very atten-
+tively to the tale. He had heard it told so often
+in this room, and he did not understand the
+sentiments of the modern world. Nellie had been
+a monstrous pretty creature. He had adored her,
+and had done with her. It was right that she
+should always be toasted after dinner by the
+Junta, as in the days when first he loved her --
+"Here's to Nellie O'Mora, the fairest witch that
+ever was or will be!" He would have resented
+the omission of that toast. But he was sick of
+the pitying, melting looks that were always cast
+towards her miniature. Nellie had been beauti-
+ful, but, by God! she was always a dunce and a
+simpleton. How could he have spent his life with
+her? She was a fool, by God! not to marry that
+fool Trailby, of Merton, whom he took to see her.
+     Mr. Oover's moral tone, and his sense of chiv-
+alry, were of the American kind: far higher than
+ours, even, and far better expressed. Whereas
+the English guests of the Junta, when they heard
+the tale of Nellie O'Mora, would merely murmur
+"Poor girl!" or "What a shame!" Mr. Oover
+said in a tone of quiet authority that compelled
+Greddon's ear "Duke, I hope I am not incog-
+nisant of the laws that govern the relations of
+guest and host. But, Duke, I aver deliberately
+that the founder of this fine old club; at which
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      133
+
+you are so splendidly entertaining me to-night,
+was an unmitigated scoundrel. I say he was not
+a white man."
+     At the word "scoundrel," Humphrey Greddon
+had sprung forward, drawing his sword, and
+loudly, in a voice audible to himself alone, chal-
+lenged the American to make good his words.
+Then, as this gentleman took no notice, with one
+clean straight thrust Greddon ran him through
+the heart, shouting "Die, you damned psalm-
+singer and traducer! And so die all rebels
+against King George!"* Withdrawing the blade,
+he wiped it daintily on his cambric handkerchief.
+There was no blood. Mr. Oover, with unpunc-
+tured shirt-front, was repeating "I say he was not
+a white man." And Greddon remembered him-
+self -- remembered he was only a ghost, impalpa-
+ble, impotent, of no account. "But I shall meet
+you in Hell to-morrow," he hissed in Oover's face.
+And there he was wrong. It is quite certain that
+Oover went to Heaven.
+     Unable to avenge himself, Greddon had looked
+to the Duke to act for him. When he saw that
+this young man did but smile at Oover and make
+a vague deprecatory gesture, he again, in his
+wrath, forgot his disabilities. Drawing himself
+to his full height, he took with great deliberation
+a pinch of snuff, and, bowing low to the Duke,
+
+     * As Edward VII. was at this time on the throne, it must
+have been to George III, that Mr. Greddon was referring,
+
+
+134      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+said "I am vastly obleeged to your Grace for the
+fine high Courage you have exhibited in the behalf
+of your most Admiring, most Humble Servant."
+Then, having brushed away a speck of snuff from
+his <i>jabot</i>, he turned on his heel; and only in the
+doorway, where one of the club servants, carrying
+a decanter in each hand, walked straight through
+him, did he realise that he had not spoilt the
+Duke's evening. With a volley of the most ap-
+palling eighteenth-century oaths, he passed back
+into the nether world.
+     To the Duke, Nellie O'Mora had never been
+a very vital figure. He had often repeated the
+legend of her. But, having never known what
+love was, he could not imagine her rapture or her
+anguish. Himself the quarry of all Mayfair's
+wise virgins, he had always -- so far as he thought
+of the matter at all -- suspected that Nellie's death
+was due to thwarted ambition. But to-night,
+while he told Oover about her, he could see into
+her soul. Nor did he pity her. She had loved.
+She had known the one thing worth living for --
+and dying for. She, as she went down to the mill-
+pond, had felt just that ecstasy of self-sacrifice
+which he himself had felt to-day and would feel
+to-morrow. And for a while, too -- for a full
+year -- she had known the joy of being loved, had
+been for Greddon "the fairest witch that ever
+was or will be." He could not agree with Oover's
+long disquisition on her sufferings. And, glancing
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      135
+
+at her well-remembered miniature, he wondered
+just what it was in her that had captivated Gred-
+don. He was in that blest state when a man can-
+not believe the earth has been trodden by any
+really beautiful or desirable lady save the lady
+of his own heart.
+     The moment had come for the removal of the
+table-cloth. The mahogany of the Junta was laid
+bare -- a clear dark lake, anon to reflect in its still
+and ruddy depths the candelabras and the fruit-
+cradles, the slender glasses and the stout old de-
+canters, the forfeit-box and the snuff-box, and
+other paraphernalia of the dignity of dessert.
+Lucidly, and unwaveringly inverted in the depths
+these good things stood; and, so soon as the wine
+had made its circuit, the Duke rose and with up-
+lifted glass proposed the first of the two toasts
+traditional to the Junta. "Gentlemen, I give you
+Church and State."
+     The toast having been honoured by all -- and
+by none with a richer reverence than by Oover,
+despite his passionate mental reservation in favour
+of Pittsburg-Anabaptism and the Republican Ideal
+-- the snuff-box was handed round, and fruit was
+eaten.
+     Presently, when the wine had gone round again,
+the Duke rose and with uplifted glass said "Gen-
+tlemen, I give you -- " and there halted. Silent,
+frowning, flushed, he stood for a few moments,
+and then, with a deliberate gesture, tilted his
+
+
+136      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+glass and let fall the wine to the carpet. "No,"
+he said, looking round the table, "I cannot give
+you Nellie O'Mora."
+     "Why not?" gasped Sir John Marraby.
+     "You have a right to ask that," said the Duke,
+still standing. "I can only say that my conscience
+is stronger than my sense of what is due to the
+customs of the club. Nellie O'Mora," he said,
+passing his hand over his brow, "may have been
+in her day the fairest witch that ever was -- so
+fair that our founder had good reason to suppose
+her the fairest witch that ever would be. But his
+prediction was a false one. So at least it seems to
+me. Of course I cannot both hold this view and
+remain President of this club. MacQuern -- Mar-
+raby -- which of you is Vice-President?"
+     "He is," said Marraby.
+     "Then, MacQuern, you are hereby President,
+<i>vice</i> myself resigned. Take the chair and propose
+the toast."
+     "I would rather not," said The MacQuern after
+a pause.
+     "Then, Marraby, <i>you</i> must."
+     "Not I!" said Marraby.
+     "Why is this?" asked the Duke, looking from
+one to the other.
+     The MacQuern, with Scotch caution, was silent.
+But the impulsive Marraby -- Madcap Marraby,
+as they called him in B.N.C. -- said "It's because
+I won't lie!" and, leaping up, raised his glass aloft
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      137
+
+and cried "I give you Zuleika Dobson, the fairest
+witch that ever was or will be!"
+     Mr. Oover, Lord Sayes, Mr. Trent-Garby,
+sprang to their feet; The MacQuern rose to his.
+"Zuleika Dobson!" they cried, and drained their
+glasses.
+     Then, when they had resumed their seats, came
+an awkward pause. The Duke, still erect beside
+the chair he had vacated, looked very grave and
+pale. Marraby had taken an outrageous liberty.
+But "a member of the Junta can do no wrong,"
+and the liberty could not be resented. The Duke
+felt that the blame was on himself, who had
+elected Marraby to the club.
+     Mr. Oover, too, looked grave. All the an-
+tiquarian in him deplored the sudden rupture of
+a fine old Oxford tradition. All the chivalrous
+American in him resented the slight on that fair
+victim of the feudal system, Miss O'Mora. And,
+at the same time, all the Abimelech V. in him re-
+joiced at having honoured by word and act the
+one woman in the world.
+     Gazing around at the flushed faces and heaving
+shirt-fronts of the diners, the Duke forgot Mar-
+raby's misdemeanour. What mattered far more
+to him was that here were five young men deeply
+under the spell of Zuleika. They must be saved,
+if possible. He knew how strong his influence
+was in the University. He knew also how strong
+was Zuleika's. He had not much hope of the
+
+
+138      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+issue. But his new-born sense of duty to his
+fellows spurred him on. "Is there," he asked with
+a bitter smile, "any one of you who doesn't with
+his whole heart love Miss Dobson?"
+     Nobody held up a hand.
+     "As I feared," said the Duke, knowing not that
+if a hand had been held up he would have taken
+it as a personal insult. No man really in love can
+forgive another for not sharing his ardour. His
+jealousy for himself when his beloved prefers an-
+other man is hardly a stronger passion than his
+jealousy for her when she is not preferred to all
+other women.
+     "You know her only by sight -- by repute?"
+asked the Duke. They signified that this was so.
+"I wish you would introduce me to her," said
+Marraby.
+     "You are all coming to the Judas concert to-
+night?" the Duke asked, ignoring Marraby. "You
+have all secured tickets?" They nodded. "To
+hear me play, or to see Miss Dobson?" There
+was a murmur of "Both -- both." "And you would
+all of you, like Marraby, wish to be presented to
+this lady?" Their eyes dilated. "That way hap-
+piness lies, think you?"
+     "Oh, happiness be hanged!" said Marraby.
+     To the Duke this seemed a profoundly sane
+remark -- an epitome of his own sentiments. But
+what was right for himself was not right for all.
+He believed in convention as the best way for
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      139
+
+average mankind. And so, slowly, calmly, he told
+to his fellow-diners just what he had told a few
+hours earlier to those two young men in Salt
+Cellar. Not knowing that his words had already
+been spread throughout Oxford, he was rather
+surprised that they seemed to make no sensation.
+Quite flat, too, fell his appeal that the syren be
+shunned by all.
+     Mr. Oover, during his year of residence, had
+been sorely tried by the quaint old English cus-
+tom of not making public speeches after private
+dinners. It was with a deep sigh of satisfaction
+that he now rose to his feet.
+     "Duke," he said in a low voice, which yet pene-
+trated to every corner of the room, "I guess I am
+voicing these gentlemen when I say that your
+words show up your good heart, all the time.
+Your mentality, too, is bully, as we all predicate.
+One may say without exaggeration that your
+scholarly and social attainments are a by-word
+throughout the solar system, and be-yond. We
+rightly venerate you as our boss. Sir, we worship
+the ground you walk on. But we owe a duty to
+our own free and independent manhood. Sir, we
+worship the ground Miss Z. Dobson treads on.
+We have pegged out a claim right there. And
+from that location we aren't to be budged -- not
+for bob-nuts. We asseverate we squat -- where --
+we -- squat, come -- what -- will. You say we have
+no chance to win Miss Z. Dobson. That -- we --
+
+140      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+know. We aren't worthy. We lie prone. Let
+her walk over us. You say her heart is cold. We
+don't pro-fess we can take the chill off. But, Sir,
+we can't be diverted out of loving her -- not even
+by you, Sir. No, Sir! We love her, and -- shall,
+and -- will, Sir, with -- our -- latest breath."
+     This peroration evoked loud applause. "I love
+her, and shall, and will," shouted each man. And
+again they honoured in wine her image. Sir John
+Marraby uttered a cry familiar in the hunting-
+field. The MacQuern contributed a few bars of a
+sentimental ballad in the dialect of his country.
+"Hurrah, hurrah!" shouted Mr. Trent-Garby.
+Lord Sayes hummed the latest waltz, waving his
+arms to its rhythm, while the wine he had just
+spilt on his shirt-front trickled unheeded to his
+waistcoat. Mr. Oover gave the Yale cheer.
+     The genial din was wafted down through the
+open window to the passers-by. The wine-mer-
+chant across the way heard it, and smiled pen-
+sively. "Youth, youth!" he murmured.
+     The genial din grew louder.
+     At any other time, the Duke would have been
+jarred by the disgrace to the Junta. But now, as
+he stood with bent head, covering his face with
+his hands, he thought only of the need to rid these
+young men, here and now, of the influence that
+had befallen them. To-morrow his tragic ex-
+ample might be too late, the mischief have sunk
+too deep, the agony be life-long. His good breed-
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      141
+
+ing forbade him to cast over a dinner-table the
+shadow of his death. His conscience insisted that
+he must. He uncovered his face, and held up one
+hand for silence.
+     "We are all of us," he said, "old enough to
+remember vividly the demonstrations made in the
+streets of London when war was declared between
+us and the Transvaal Republic. You, Mr. Oover,
+doubtless heard in America the echoes of those
+ebullitions. The general idea was that the war
+was going to be a very brief and simple affair --
+what was called 'a walk-over.' To me, though I
+was only a small boy, it seemed that all this de-
+lirious pride in the prospect of crushing a trump-
+ery foe argued a defect in our sense of proportion.
+Still, I was able to understand the demonstrators'
+point of view. To 'the giddy vulgar' any sort of
+victory is pleasant. But defeat? If, when that
+war was declared, every one had been sure that
+not only should we fail to conquer the Transvaal,
+but that <i>it</i> would conquer <i>us</i> -- that not only would
+it make good its freedom and independence, but
+that we should forfeit ours -- how would the cits
+have felt then? Would they not have pulled long
+faces, spoken in whispers, wept? You must for-
+give me for saying that the noise you have just
+made around this table was very like to the noise
+made on the verge of the Boer War. And your
+procedure seems to me as unaccountable as would
+have seemed the antics of those mobs if England
+
+
+142      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+had been plainly doomed to disaster and to vas-
+salage. My guest here to-night, in the course of
+his very eloquent and racy speech, spoke of the
+need that he and you should preserve your 'free
+and independent manhood.' That seemed to me
+an irreproachable ideal. But I confess I was
+somewhat taken aback by my friend's scheme for
+realising it. He declared his intention of lying
+prone and letting Miss Dobson 'walk over' him;
+and he advised you to follow his example; and
+to this counsel you gave evident approval. Gen-
+tlemen, suppose that on the verge of the aforesaid
+war, some orator had said to the British people
+'It is going to be a walk-over for our enemy in
+the field. Mr. Kruger holds us in the hollow
+of his hand. In subjection to him we shall find
+our long-lost freedom and independence' -- what
+would have been Britannia's answer? What, on
+reflection, is yours to Mr. Oover? What are
+Mr. Oover's own second thoughts?" The Duke
+paused, with a smile to his guest.
+     "Go right ahead, Duke," said Mr. Oover. "I'll
+re-ply when my turn comes."
+     "And not utterly demolish me, I hope," said
+the Duke. His was the Oxford manner. "Gen-
+tlemen," he continued, "is it possible that Britan-
+nia would have thrown her helmet in the air,
+shrieking 'Slavery for ever'? You, gentlemen,
+seem to think slavery a pleasant and an honour-
+able state. You have less experience of it than I.
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      143
+
+I have been enslaved to Miss Dobson since yes-
+terday evening; you, only since this afternoon; I,
+at close quarters; you, at a respectful distance.
+Your fetters have not galled you yet. <i>My</i> wrists,
+<i>my</i> ankles, are excoriated. The iron has entered
+into my soul. I droop. I stumble. Blood flows
+from me. I quiver and curse. I writhe. The
+sun mocks me. The moon titters in my face. I
+can stand it no longer. I will no more of it. To-
+morrow I die."
+     The flushed faces of the diners grew gradually
+pale. Their eyes lost lustre. Their tongues clove
+to the roofs of their mouths.
+     At length, almost inaudibly, The MacQuern
+asked "Do you mean you are going to commit
+suicide?"
+     "Yes," said the Duke, "if you choose to put
+it in that way. Yes. And it is only by a chance
+that I did not commit suicide this afternoon."
+     "You -- don't -- say," gasped Mr. Oover.
+     "I do indeed," said the Duke. "And I ask you
+all to weigh well my message."
+     "But -- but does Miss Dobson know?" asked
+Sir John.
+     "Oh yes," was the reply. "Indeed, it was she
+who persuaded me not to die till to-morrow."
+     "But -- but," faltered Lord Sayes, "I saw her
+saying good-bye to you in Judas Street. And --
+and she looked quite -- as if nothing had hap-
+pened."
+
+
+144      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+     "Nothing <i>had</i> happened," said the Duke. "And
+she was very much pleased to have me still with
+her. But she isn't so cruel as to hinder me from
+dying for her to-morrow. I don't think she ex-
+actly fixed the hour. It shall be just after the
+Eights have been rowed. An earlier death would
+mark in me a lack of courtesy to that contest. . .
+It seems strange to you that I should do this
+thing? Take warning by me. Muster all your
+will-power, and forget Miss Dobson. Tear up
+your tickets for the concert. Stay here and play
+cards. Play high. Or rather, go back to your
+various Colleges, and speed the news I have told
+you. Put all Oxford on its guard against this
+woman who can love no lover. Let all Oxford
+know that I, Dorset, who had so much reason
+to love life -- I, the nonpareil -- am going to die
+for the love I bear this woman. And let no man
+think I go unwilling. I am no lamb led to the
+slaughter. I am priest as well as victim. I offer
+myself up with a pious joy. But enough of this
+cold Hebraism! It is ill-attuned to my soul's
+mood. Self-sacrifice -- bah! Regard me as a
+voluptuary. I am that. All my baffled ardour
+speeds me to the bosom of Death. She is gentle
+and wanton. She knows I could never have loved
+her for her own sake. She has no illusions about
+me. She knows well I come to her because not
+otherwise may I quench my passion."
+     There was a long silence. The Duke, looking
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      145
+
+around at the bent heads and drawn mouths of
+his auditors, saw that his words had gone home.
+It was Marraby who revealed how powerfully
+home they had gone.
+     "Dorset," he said huskily, "I shall die too."
+     The Duke flung up his hands, staring wildly.
+     "I stand in with that," said Mr. Oover.
+     "So do I!" said Lord Sayes. "And I!" said
+Mr. Trent-Garby; "And I!" The MacQuern.
+     The Duke found voice. "Are you mad?" he
+asked, clutching at his throat. "Are you all
+mad?"
+     "No, Duke," said Mr. Oover. "Or, if we are,
+you have no right to be at large. You have shown
+us the way. We -- take it."
+     "Just so," said The MacQuern, stolidly.
+     "Listen, you fools," cried the Duke. But
+through the open window came the vibrant stroke
+of some clock. He wheeled round, plucked out
+his watch -- nine! -- the concert! -- his promise not
+to be late! -- Zuleika!
+     All other thoughts vanished. In an instant he
+dodged beneath the sash of the window. From
+the flower-box he sprang to the road beneath.
+(The fa&ccedil;ade of the house is called, to this day,
+Dorset's Leap.) Alighting with the legerity of a
+cat, he swerved leftward in the recoil, and was
+off, like a streak of mulberry-coloured lightning,
+down the High.
+     The other men had rushed to the window, fear-
+
+
+146      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+ing the worst. "No," cried Oover. "That's all
+right. Saves time!" and he raised himself on to
+the window-box. It splintered under his weight.
+He leapt heavily but well, followed by some up-
+rooted geraniums. Squaring his shoulders, he
+threw back his head, and doubled down the slope.
+     There was a violent jostle between the remain-
+ing men. The MacQuern cannily got out of it,
+and rushed downstairs. He emerged at the front-
+door just after Marraby touched ground. The
+Baronet's left ankle had twisted under him. His
+face was drawn with pain as he hopped down
+the High on his right foot, fingering his ticket
+for the concert. Next leapt Lord Sayes. And
+last of all leapt Mr. Trent-Garby, who, catching
+his foot in the ruined flower-box, fell headlong,
+and was, I regret to say, killed. Lord Sayes
+passed Sir John in a few paces. The MacQuern
+overtook Mr. Oover at St. Mary's and outstripped
+him in Radcliffe Square. The Duke came in an
+easy first.
+     Youth, youth!
+
+
+IX
+
+ACROSS the Front Quadrangle, heedless of the
+great crowd to right and left, Dorset rushed. Up
+the stone steps to the Hall he bounded, and only
+on the Hall's threshold was he brought to a pause.
+The doorway was blocked by the backs of youths
+who had by hook and crook secured standing-
+room. The whole scene was surprisingly unlike
+that of the average College concert.
+     "Let me pass," said the Duke, rather breath-
+lessly. "Thank you. Make way please. Thanks."
+And with quick-pulsing heart he made his way
+down the aisle to the front row. There awaited
+him a surprise that was like a douche of cold water
+full in his face. Zuleika was not there! It had
+never occurred to him that she herself might not
+be punctual.
+     The Warden was there, reading his programme
+with an air of great solemnity. "Where," asked
+the Duke, "is your grand-daughter?" His tone
+was as of a man saying "If she is dead, don't
+break it gently to me."
+     "My grand-daughter?" said the Warden. "Ah,
+Duke, good evening."
+     "She's not ill?"
+
+147
+
+
+148      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+     "Oh no, I think not. She said something about
+changing the dress she wore at dinner. She will
+come." And the Warden thanked his young
+friend for the great kindness he had shown to
+Zuleika. He hoped the Duke had not let her
+worry him with her artless prattle. "She seems
+to be a good, amiable girl," he added, in his de-
+tached way.
+     Sitting beside him, the Duke looked curiously
+at the venerable profile, as at a mummy's. To
+think that this had once been a man! To think
+that his blood flowed in the veins of Zuleika!
+Hitherto the Duke had seen nothing grotesque in
+him -- had regarded him always as a dignified
+specimen of priest and scholar. Such a life as the
+Warden's, year following year in ornamental se-
+clusion from the follies and fusses of the world,
+had to the Duke seemed rather admirable and
+enviable. Often he himself had (for a minute or
+so) meditated taking a fellowship at All Souls
+and spending here in Oxford the greater part of
+his life. He had never been young, and it never
+had occurred to him that the Warden had been
+young once. To-night he saw the old man in a
+new light -- saw that he was mad. Here was a
+man who -- for had he not married and begotten
+a child? -- must have known, in some degree, the
+emotion of love. How, after that, could he have
+gone on thus, year by year, rusting among his
+books, asking no favour of life, waiting for death
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      149
+
+without a sign of impatience? Why had he not
+killed himself long ago? Why cumbered he the
+earth?
+     On the da&iuml;s an undergraduate was singing a
+song entitled "She Loves Not Me." Such plaints
+are apt to leave us unharrowed. Across the foot-
+lights of an opera-house, the despair of some
+Italian tenor in red tights and a yellow wig may
+be convincing enough. Not so, at a concert, the
+despair of a shy British amateur in evening dress.
+The undergraduate on the dais, fumbling with
+his sheet of music while he predicted that only
+when he were "laid within the church-yard cold
+and grey" would his lady begin to pity him,
+seemed to the Duke rather ridiculous; but not
+half so ridiculous as the Warden. This fictitious
+love-affair was less nugatory than the actual
+humdrum for which Dr. Dobson had sold his soul
+to the devil. Also, little as one might suspect it,
+the warbler was perhaps expressing a genuine
+sentiment. Zuleika herself, belike, was in his
+thoughts.
+     As he began the second stanza, predicting that
+when his lady died too the angels of heaven would
+bear her straight to him, the audience heard a
+loud murmur, or subdued roar, outside the Hall.
+And after a few bars the warbler suddenly ceased,
+staring straight in front of him as though he saw
+a vision. Automatically, all heads veered in the
+direction of his gaze. From the entrance, slowly
+
+
+150      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+along the aisle, came Zuleika, brilliant in black.
+     To the Duke, who had rapturously risen, she
+nodded and smiled as she swerved down on the
+chair beside him. She looked to him somehow
+different. He had quite forgiven her for being
+late: her mere presence was a perfect excuse. And
+the very change in her, though he could not de-
+fine it, was somehow pleasing to him. He was
+about to question her, but she shook her head and
+held up to her lips a black-gloved forefinger, en-
+joining silence for the singer, who, with dogged
+British pluck, had harked back to the beginning
+of the second stanza. When his task was done
+and he shuffled down from the da&iuml;s, he received a
+great ovation. Zuleika, in the way peculiar to
+persons who are in the habit of appearing before
+the public, held her hands well above the level of
+her brow, and clapped them with a vigour dem-
+onstrative not less of her presence than of her
+delight.
+     "And now," she asked, turning to the Duke,
+"do you see? do you see?"
+     "Something, yes. But what?"
+     "Isn't it plain?" Lightly she touched the lobe
+of her left ear. "Aren't you flattered?"
+     He knew now what made the difference. It was
+that her little face was flanked by two black
+pearls.
+     "Think," said she, "how deeply I must have
+been brooding over you since we parted!"
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      151
+
+     "Is this really," he asked, pointing to the left
+ear-ring, "the pearl you wore to-day?"
+     "Yes. Isn't it strange? A man ought to be
+pleased when a woman goes quite unconsciously
+into mourning for him -- goes just because she
+really does mourn him."
+     "I am more than pleased. I am touched. When
+did the change come?"
+     "I don't know. I only noticed it after dinner,
+when I saw myself in the mirror. All through
+dinner I had been thinking of you and of -- well,
+of to-morrow. And this dear sensitive pink pearl
+had again expressed my soul. And there was I,
+in a yellow gown with green embroideries, gay
+as a jacamar, jarring hideously on myself. I cov-
+ered my eyes and rushed upstairs, rang the bell
+and tore my things off. My maid was very cross."
+     Cross! The Duke was shot through with envy
+of one who was in a position to be unkind to
+Zuleika. "Happy maid!" he murmured. Zuleika
+replied that he was stealing her thunder: hadn't
+she envied the girl at his lodgings? "But <i>I</i>,"
+she said, "wanted only to serve you in meekness.
+The idea of ever being pert to you didn't enter
+into my head. You show a side of your character
+as unpleasing as it was unforeseen."
+     "Perhaps then," said the Duke, "it is as well
+that I am going to die." She acknowledged his
+rebuke with a pretty gesture of penitence. "You
+may have been faultless in love," he added; "but
+
+
+152      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+you would not have laid down your life for me."
+     "Oh," she answered, "wouldn't I though? You
+don't know me. That is just the sort of thing I
+should have loved to do. I am much more ro-
+mantic than you are, really. I wonder," she said,
+glancing at his breast, "if <i>your</i> pink pearl would
+have turned black? And I wonder if <i>you</i> would
+have taken the trouble to change that extraor-
+dinary coat you are wearing?"
+     In sooth, no costume could have been more
+beautifully Cimmerian than Zuleika's. And yet,
+thought the Duke, watching her as the concert
+proceeded, the effect of her was not lugubrious.
+Her darkness shone. The black satin gown she
+wore was a stream of shifting high-lights. Big
+black diamonds were around her throat and
+wrists, and tiny black diamonds starred the fan
+she wielded. In her hair gleamed a great raven's
+wing. And brighter, brighter than all these were
+her eyes. Assuredly no, there was nothing morbid
+about her. Would one even (wondered the Duke,
+for a disloyal instant) go so far as to say she was
+heartless? Ah no, she was merely strong. She
+was one who could tread the tragic plane without
+stumbling, and be resilient in the valley of the
+shadow. What she had just said was no more
+than the truth: she would have loved to die for
+him, had he not forfeited her heart. She would
+have asked no tears. That she had none to shed
+for him now, that she did but share his exhilara-
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      153
+
+tion, was the measure of her worthiness to have
+the homage of his self-slaughter.
+     "By the way," she whispered, "I want to ask
+one little favour of you. Will you, please, at the
+last moment to-morrow, call out my name in a
+loud voice, so that every one around can hear?"
+     "Of course I will."
+     "So that no one shall ever be able to say it
+wasn't for me that you died, you know."
+     "May I use simply your Christian name?"
+     "Yes, I really don't see why you shouldn't- -
+at such a moment."
+     "Thank you." His face glowed.
+     Thus did they commune, these two, radiant
+without and within. And behind them, through-
+out the Hall, the undergraduates craned their
+necks for a glimpse. The Duke's piano solo,
+which was the last item in the first half of the
+programme, was eagerly awaited. Already, whis-
+pered first from the lips of Oover and the others
+who had come on from the Junta, the news of
+his resolve had gone from ear to ear among the
+men. He, for his part, had forgotten the scene
+at the Junta, the baleful effect of his example.
+For him the Hall was a cave of solitude -- no one
+there but Zuleika and himself. Yet almost, like
+the late Mr. John Bright, he heard in the air
+the beating of the wings of the Angel of Death.
+Not awful wings; little wings that sprouted from
+the shoulders of a rosy and blindfold child. Love
+
+
+154      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+and Death -- for him they were exquisitely one.
+And it seemed to him, when his turn came to
+play, that he floated, rather than walked, to the
+da&iuml;s.
+     He had not considered what he would play to-
+night. Nor, maybe, was he conscious now of
+choosing. His fingers caressed the keyboard
+vaguely; and anon this ivory had voice and lan-
+guage; and for its master, and for some of his
+hearers, arose a vision. And it was as though in
+delicate procession, very slowly, listless with weep-
+ing, certain figures passed by, hooded, and droop-
+ing forasmuch as by the loss of him whom they
+were following to his grave their own hold on
+life had been loosened. He had been so beautiful
+and young. Lo, he was but a burden to be carried
+hence, dust to be hidden out of sight. Very
+slowly, very wretchedly they went by. But, as
+they went, another feeling, faint at first, an all
+but imperceptible current, seemed to flow through
+the procession; and now one, now another of the
+mourners would look wanly up, with cast-back
+hood, as though listening; and anon all were
+listening on their way, first in wonder, then in
+rapture; for the soul of their friend was singing
+to them: they heard his voice, but clearer and
+more blithe than they had ever known it -- a voice
+etherealised by a triumph of joy that was not yet
+for them to share. But presently the voice re-
+ceded, its echoes dying away into the sphere
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      155
+
+whence it came. It ceased; and the mourners
+were left alone again with their sorrow, and
+passed on all unsolaced, and drooping, weeping.
+     Soon after the Duke had begun to play, an
+invisible figure came and stood by and listened;
+a frail man, dressed in the fashion of 1840; the
+shade of none other than Frederic Chopin. Be-
+hind whom, a moment later, came a woman of
+somewhat masculine aspect and dominant de-
+meanour, mounting guard over him, and, as it
+were, ready to catch him if he fell. He bowed
+his head lower and lower, he looked up with an
+ecstasy more and more intense, according to the
+procedure of his Marche Fun&egrave;bre. And among
+the audience, too, there was a bowing and up-
+lifting of heads, just as among the figures of the
+mourners evoked. Yet the head of the player
+himself was all the while erect, and his face glad
+and serene. Nobly sensitive as was his playing
+of the mournful passages, he smiled brilliantly
+through them.
+     And Zuleika returned his gaze with a smile
+not less gay. She was not sure what he was play-
+ing. But she assumed that it was for her, and
+that the music had some reference to his impend-
+ing death. She was one of the people who say
+"I don't know anything about music really, but I
+know what I like." And she liked this; and she
+beat time to it with her fan. She thought her
+Duke looked very handsome. She was proud of
+
+
+156      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+him. Strange that this time yesterday she had
+been wildly in love with him! Strange, too, that
+this time to-morrow he would be dead! She was
+immensely glad she had saved him this afternoon.
+To-morrow! There came back to her what he
+had told her about the omen at Tankerton, that
+stately home: "On the eve of the death of a
+Duke of Dorset, two black owls come always and
+perch on the battlements. They remain there
+through the night, hooting. At dawn they fly
+away, none knows whither." Perhaps, thought
+she, at this very moment these two birds were on
+the battlements.
+     The music ceased. In the hush that followed it,
+her applause rang sharp and notable. Not so
+Chopin's. Of him and his intense excitement none
+but his companion was aware. "Plus fin que
+Pachmann!" he reiterated, waving his arms
+wildly, and dancing.
+     "Tu auras une migraine affreuse. Rentrons,
+petit c&oelig;ur!" said George Sand, gently but firmly.
+     "Laisse-rnoi le saluer," cried the composer,
+struggling in her grasp.
+     "Demain soir, oui. Il sera parmi nous," said
+the novelist, as she hurried him away. "Moi
+aussi," she added to herself, "je me promets un
+beau plaisir en faisant la connaissance de ce
+jeune homme."
+     Zuleika was the first to rise as "ce jeune
+homme" came down from the da&iuml;s. Now was the
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      157
+
+interval between the two parts of the programme.
+There was a general creaking and scraping of
+pushed-back chairs as the audience rose and went
+forth into the night. The noise aroused from
+sleep the good Warden, who, having peered at his
+programme, complimented the Duke with old-
+world courtesy and went to sleep again. Zuleika,
+thrusting her fan under one arm, shook the player
+by both hands. Also, she told him that she knew
+nothing about music really, but that she knew
+what she liked. As she passed with him up the
+aisle, she said this again. People who say it are
+never tired of saying it.
+     Outside, the crowd was greater than ever. All
+the undergraduates from all the Colleges seemed
+now to be concentrated in the great Front Quad-
+rangle of Judas. Even in the glow of the Japa-
+nese lanterns that hung around in honour of the
+concert, the faces of the lads looked a little pale.
+For it was known by all now that the Duke was
+to die. Even while the concert was in progress,
+the news had spread out from the Hall, through
+the thronged doorway, down the thronged steps,
+to the confines of the crowd. Nor had Oover
+and the other men from the Junta made any se-
+cret of their own determination. And now, as
+the rest saw Zuleika yet again at close quarters,
+and verified their remembrance of her, the half-
+formed desire in them to die too was hardened to
+a vow.
+
+
+158      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+     You cannot make a man by standing a sheep
+on its hind-legs. But by standing a flock of sheep
+in that position you can make a crowd of men.
+If man were not a gregarious animal, the world
+might have achieved, by this time, some real pro-
+gress towards civilisation. Segregate him, and he
+is no fool. But let him loose among his fellows,
+and he is lost -- he becomes just an unit in un-
+reason. If any one of the undergraduates had
+met Miss Dobson in the desert of Sahara, he
+would have fallen in love with her; but not one
+in a thousand of them would have wished to die
+because she did not love him. The Duke's was a
+peculiar case. For him to fall in love was itself
+a violent peripety, bound to produce a violent up-.
+heaval; and such was his pride that for his love
+to be unrequited would naturally enamour him of
+death. These other, these quite ordinary, young
+men were the victims less of Zuleika than of the
+Duke's example, and of one another. A crowd,
+proportionately to its size, magnifies all that in
+its units pertains to the emotions, and diminishes
+all that in them pertains to thought. It was be-
+cause these undergraduates were a crowd that
+their passion for Zuleika was so intense; and it
+was because they were a crowd that they followed
+so blindly the lead given to them. To die for
+Miss Dobson was "the thing to do." The Duke
+was going to do it. The Junta was going to do it.
+It is a hateful fact, but we must face the fact,
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      159
+
+that snobbishness was one of the springs to the
+tragedy here chronicled.
+     We may set to this crowd's credit that it re-
+frained now from following Zuleika. Not one
+of the ladies present was deserted by her escort.
+All the men recognised the Duke's right to be
+alone with Zuleika now. We may set also to their
+credit that they carefully guarded the ladies from
+all knowledge of what was afoot.
+     Side by side, the great lover and his beloved
+wandered away, beyond the light of the Japanese
+lanterns, and came to Salt Cellar.
+     The moon, like a gardenia in the night's button-
+hole -- but no! why should a writer never be able
+to mention the moon without likening her to
+something else -- usually something to which she
+bears not the faintest resemblance?. . . The moon,
+looking like nothing whatsoever but herself, was
+engaged in her old and futile endeavour to mark
+the hours correctly on the sun-dial at the centre of
+the lawn. Never, except once, late one night in
+the eighteenth century, when the toper who was
+Sub-Warden had spent an hour in trying to set
+his watch here, had she received the slightest en-
+couragement. Still she wanly persisted. And this
+was the more absurd in her because Salt Cellar
+offered very good scope for those legitimate effects
+of hers which we one and all admire. Was it
+nothing to her to have cut those black shadows
+across the cloisters? Was it nothing to her that
+
+
+160      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+she so magically mingled her rays with the candle-
+light shed forth from Zuleika's bedroom? Noth-
+ing, that she had cleansed the lawn of all its col-
+our, and made of it a platform of silver-grey, fit
+for fairies to dance on?
+     If Zuleika, as she paced the gravel path, had
+seen how transfigured -- how nobly like the Tragic
+Muse -- she was just now, she could not have gone
+on bothering the Duke for a keepsake of the
+tragedy that was to be.
+     She was still set on having his two studs. He
+was still firm in his refusal to misappropriate
+those heirlooms. In vain she pointed out to him
+that the pearls he meant, the white ones, no longer
+existed; that the pearls he was wearing were no
+more "entailed" than if he had got them yester-
+day. "And you actually <i>did</i> get them yester-
+day," she said. "And from me. And I want
+them back."
+     "You are ingenious," he admitted. "I, in my
+simple way, am but head of the Tanville-Tanker-
+ton family. Had you accepted my offer of mar-
+riage, you would have had the right to wear these
+two pearls during your life-time. I am very
+happy to die for you. But tamper with the prop-
+erty of my successor I cannot and will not. I am
+sorry," he added.
+     "Sorry!" echoed Zuleika. "Yes, and you were
+'sorry' you couldn't dine with me to-night. But
+any little niggling scruple is more to you than I
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      161
+
+am. What old maids men are!" And viciously
+with her fan she struck one of the cloister pillars.
+     Her outburst was lost on the Duke. At her
+taunt about his not dining with her, he had stood
+still, clapping one hand to his brow. The events
+of the early evening swept back to him -- his
+speech, its unforeseen and horrible reception. He
+saw again the preternaturally solemn face of
+Oover, and the flushed faces of the rest. He had
+thought, as he pointed down to the abyss over
+which he stood, these fellows would recoil, and
+pull themselves together. They had recoiled, and
+pulled themselves together, only in the manner
+of athletes about to spring. He was responsible
+for them. His own life was his to lose: others he
+must not squander. Besides, he had reckoned to
+die alone, unique; aloft and apart. . . "There is
+something -- something I had forgotten," he said
+to Zuleika, "something that will be a great shock
+to you"; and he gave her an outline of what had
+passed at the Junta.
+     "And you are sure they really <i>meant</i> it?" she
+asked in a voice that trembled.
+     "I fear so. But they were over-excited. They
+will recant their folly. I shall force them to."
+     "They are not children. You yourself have
+just been calling them 'men.' Why should they
+obey you?"
+     She turned at sound of a footstep, and saw a
+young man approaching. He wore a coat like the
+
+
+162      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+Duke's, and in his hand he dangled a handker-
+chief. He bowed awkwardly, and, holding out
+the handkerchief, said to her "I beg your pardon,
+but I think you dropped this. I have just picked
+it up."
+     Zuleika looked at the handkerchief, which was
+obviously a man's, and smilingly shook her head.
+     "I don't think you know The MacQuern," said
+the Duke, with sulky grace. "This," he said to
+the intruder, "is Miss Dobson."
+     "And is it really true," asked Zuleika, retaining
+The MacQuern's hand, "that you want to die
+for me?"
+     Well, the Scots are a self-seeking and a reso-
+lute, but a shy, race; swift to act, when swiftness
+is needed, but seldom knowing quite what to say.
+The MacQuern, with native reluctance to give
+something for nothing, had determined to have
+the pleasure of knowing the young lady for whom
+he was to lay down his life; and this purpose he
+had, by the simple stratagem of his own hand-
+kerchief, achieved. Nevertheless, in answer to
+Zuleika's question, and with the pressure of her
+hand to inspire him, the only word that rose to
+his lips was "Ay" (which may be roughly trans-
+lated as "Yes").
+     "You will do nothing of the sort," interposed
+the Duke.
+     "There," said Zuleika, still retaining The Mac-
+Quern's hand, "you see, it is forbidden. You
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      163
+
+must not defy our dear little Duke. He is not
+used to it. It is not done."
+     "I don't know," said The MacQuern, with a
+stony glance at the Duke, "that he has anything
+to do with the matter."
+     "He is older and wiser than you. More a man
+of the world. Regard him as your tutor."
+     "Do <i>you</i> want me not to die for you?" asked
+the young man.
+     "Ah, <i>I</i> should not dare to impose my wishes
+on you," said she, dropping his hand. "Even,"
+she added, "if I knew what my wishes were. And
+I don't. I know only that I think it is very, very
+beautiful of you to think of dying for me."
+     "Then that settles it," said The MacQuern.
+     "No, no! You must not let yourself be influ-
+enced by <i>me</i>. Besides, I am not in a mood to
+influence anybody. I am overwhelmed. Tell me,"
+she said, heedless of the Duke, who stood tapping
+his heel on the ground, with every manifestation
+of disapproval and impatience, "tell me, is it true
+that some of the other men love me too, and --
+feel as you do?"
+     The MacQuern said cautiously that he could
+answer for no one but himself. "But," he al-
+lowed, "I saw a good many men whom I know,
+outside the Hall here, just now, and they seemed
+to have made up their minds."
+     "To die for me? To-morrow?"
+     "To-morrow. After the Eights, I suppose; at
+
+
+164      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+the same time as the Duke. It wouldn't do to
+leave the races undecided."
+     "Of <i>course</i> not. But the poor dears! It is too
+touching! I have done nothing, nothing to de-
+serve it."
+     "Nothing whatsoever," said the Duke drily.
+     "Oh <i>he</i>," said Zuleika, "thinks me an unre-
+deemed brute; just because I don't love him. <i>You</i>,
+dear Mr. MacQuern -- does one call you 'Mr.'?
+'The' would sound so odd in the vocative. And
+I can't very well call you 'MacQuern' -- <i>you</i> don't
+think me unkind, do you? I simply can't bear to
+think of all these young lives cut short without
+my having done a thing to brighten them. What
+can I do? -- what can I do to show my gratitude?"
+     An idea struck her. She looked up to the lit
+window of her room. "M&eacute;lisande!" she called.
+     A figure appeared at the window. "Mademoi-
+selle d&eacute;sire?"
+     "My tricks, M&eacute;lisande! Bring down the box,
+quick!" She turned excitedly to the two young
+men. "It is all I can do in return, you see. If I
+could dance for them, I would. If I could sing,
+I would sing to them. I do what I can. You,"
+she said to the Duke, "must go on to the platform
+and announce it."
+     "Announce what?"
+     "Why, that I am going to do my tricks! All
+you need say is 'Ladies and gentlemen, I have the
+pleasure to --' What is the matter now?"
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      165
+
+     "You make me feel slightly unwell," said the
+Duke.
+     "And <i>you</i> are the most d-dis-disobliging and
+the unkindest and the b-beastliest person I ever
+met," Zuleika sobbed at him through her hands.
+The MacQuern glared reproaches at him. So did
+M&eacute;lisande, who had just appeared through the
+postern, holding in her arms the great casket of
+malachite. A painful scene; and the Duke gave
+in. He said he would do anything -- anything.
+Peace was restored.
+     The MacQuern had relieved M&eacute;lisande of her
+burden; and to him was the privilege of bearing
+it, in procession with his adored and her quelled
+mentor, towards the Hall.
+     Zuleika babbled like a child going to a juvenile
+party. This was the great night, as yet, in her
+life. Illustrious enough already it had seemed to
+her, as eve of that ultimate flattery vowed her by
+the Duke. So fine a thing had his doom seemed
+to her -- his doom alone -- that it had sufficed to
+flood her pink pearl with the right hue. And now
+not on him alone need she ponder. Now he was
+but the centre of a group -- a group that might
+grow and grow -- a group that might with a little
+encouragement be a multitude. . . With such
+hopes dimly whirling in the recesses of her soul,
+her beautiful red lips babbled.
+
+
+X
+
+SOUNDS of a violin, drifting out through the open
+windows of the Hall, suggested that the second
+part of the concert had begun. All the under-
+graduates, however, except the few who figured
+in the programme, had waited outside till their
+mistress should re-appear. The sisters and cous-
+ins of the Judas men had been escorted back to
+their places and hurriedly left there.
+     It was a hushed, tense crowd.
+     "The poor darlings!" murmured Zuleika, paus-
+ing to survey them. "And oh," she exclaimed,
+"there won't be room for all of them in there!"
+     "You might give an 'overflow' performance out
+here afterwards," suggested the Duke, grimly.
+     This idea flashed on her a better. Why not
+give her performance here and now? -- now, so
+eager was she for contact, as it were, with this
+crowd; here, by moonlight, in the pretty glow of
+these paper lanterns. Yes, she said, let it be here
+and now; and she bade the Duke make the an-
+nouncement.
+     "What shall I say?" he asked. "'Gentlemen,
+I have the pleasure to announce that Miss Zuleika
+Dobson, the world-renowned She-Wizard, will
+
+166
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      167
+
+now oblige'? Or shall I call them 'Gents,' <i>tout
+court</i>?"
+     She could afford to laugh at his ill-humour.
+She had his promise of obedience. She told him
+to say something graceful and simple.
+     The noise of the violin had ceased. There was
+not a breath of wind. The crowd in the quad-
+rangle was as still and as silent as the night itself.
+Nowhere a tremour. And it was borne in on
+Zuleika that this crowd had one mind as well as
+one heart -- a common resolve, calm and clear, as
+well as a common passion. No need for her to
+strengthen the spell now. No waverers here.
+And thus it came true that gratitude was the sole
+motive for her display.
+     She stood with eyes downcast and hands folded
+behind her, moonlit in the glow of lanterns, mod-
+est to the point of pathos, while the Duke grace-
+fully and simply introduced her to the multitude.
+He was, he said, empowered by the lady who
+stood beside him to say that she would be pleased
+to give them an exhibition of her skill in the art
+to which she had devoted her life -- an art which,
+more potently perhaps than any other, touched in
+mankind the sense of mystery and stirred the fac-
+ulty of wonder; the most truly romantic of all the
+arts: he referred to the art of conjuring. It was
+not too much to say that by her mastery of this
+art, in which hitherto, it must be confessed, women
+had made no very great mark, Miss Zuleika Dob-
+
+
+168      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+son (for such was the name of the lady who stood
+beside him) had earned the esteem of the whole
+civilised world. And here in Oxford, and in this
+College especially, she had a peculiar claim to --
+might he say? -- their affectionate regard, inas-
+much as she was the grand-daughter of their ven-
+erable and venerated Warden.
+     As the Duke ceased, there came from his hear-
+ers a sound like the rustling of leaves. In return
+for it, Zuleika performed that graceful act of
+subsidence to the verge of collapse which is
+usually kept for the delectation of some royal per-
+son. And indeed, in the presence of this doomed
+congress, she did experience humility; for she was
+not altogether without imagination. But, as she
+arose from her "bob," she was her own bold self
+again, bright mistress of the situation.
+     It was impossible for her to give her entertain-
+ment in full. Some of her tricks (notably the
+Secret Aquarium, and the Blazing Ball of Wor-
+sted) needed special preparation, and a table fitted
+with a "servante" or secret tray. The table for
+to-night's performance was an ordinary one,
+brought out from the porter's lodge. The Mac-
+Quern deposited on it the great casket. Zuleika,
+retaining him as her assistant, picked nimbly out
+from their places and put in array the curious
+appurtenances of her art -- the Magic Canister,
+the Demon Egg-Cup, and the sundry other vessels
+which, lost property of young Edward Gibbs, had
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      169
+
+been by a Romanoff transmuted from wood to
+gold, and were now by the moon reduced tempor-
+arily to silver.
+     In a great dense semicircle the young men dis-
+posed themselves around her. Those who were
+in front squatted down on the gravel; those who
+were behind knelt; the rest stood. Young Ox-
+ford! Here, in this mass of boyish faces, all
+fused and obliterated, was the realisation of that
+phrase. Two or three thousands of human bod-
+ies, human souls? Yet the effect of them in the
+moonlight was as of one great passive monster.
+     So was it seen by the Duke, as he stood leaning
+against the wall, behind Zuleika's table. He saw
+it as a monster couchant and enchanted, a monster
+that was to die; and its death was in part his
+own doing. But remorse in him gave place to
+hostility. Zuleika had begun her performance.
+She was producing the Barber's Pole from her
+mouth. And it was to her that the Duke's heart
+went suddenly out in tenderness and pity. He
+forgot her levity and vanity -- her wickedness, as
+he had inwardly called it. He thrilled with that
+intense anxiety which comes to a man when he
+sees his beloved offering to the public an exhibi-
+tion of her skill, be it in singing, acting, dancing,
+or any other art. Would she acquit herself well?
+The lover's trepidation is painful enough when
+the beloved has genius -- how should these clods
+appreciate her? and who set them in judgment
+
+
+170      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+over her? It must be worse when the beloved
+has mediocrity. And Zuleika, in conjuring, had
+rather less than that. Though indeed she took
+herself quite seriously as a conjurer, she brought
+to her art neither conscience nor ambition, in any
+true sense of those words. Since her d&eacute;but, she
+had learned nothing and forgotten nothing. The
+stale and narrow repertory which she had ac-
+quired from Edward Gibbs was all she had to
+offer; and this, and her marked lack of skill, she
+eked out with the self-same "patter" that had
+sufficed that impossible young man. It was espe-
+cially her jokes that now sent shudders up the
+spine of her lover, and brought tears to his eyes,
+and kept him in a state of terror as to what she
+would say next. "You see," she had exclaimed
+lightly after the production of the Barber's Pole,
+"how easy it is to set up business as a hair-
+dresser." Over the Demon Egg-Cup she said
+that the egg was "as good as fresh." And her
+constantly reiterated catch-phrase -- "Well, this
+is rather queer!" -- was the most distressing thing
+of all.
+     The Duke blushed to think what these men
+thought of her. Would love were blind! These
+her lovers were doubtless judging her. They for-
+gave her -- confound their impudence! -- because
+of her beauty. The banality of her performance
+was an added grace. It made her piteous. Damn
+them, they were sorry for her. Little Noaks was
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      171
+
+squatting in the front row, peering up at her
+through his spectacles. Noaks was as sorry for
+her as the rest of them. Why didn't the earth
+yawn and swallow them all up?
+     Our hero's unreasoning rage was fed by a not
+unreasonable jealousy. It was clear to him that
+Zuleika had forgotten his existence. To-day, as
+soon as he had killed her love, she had shown him
+how much less to her was his love than the
+crowd's. And now again it was only the crowd
+she cared for. He followed with his eyes her
+long slender figure as she threaded her way in
+and out of the crowd, sinuously, confidingly, pro-
+ducing a penny from one lad's elbow, a three-
+penny-bit from between another's neck and collar,
+half a crown from another's hair, and always re-
+peating in that flute-like voice of hers "Well, this
+is rather queer!" Hither and thither she fared,
+her neck and arms gleaming white from the lumi-
+nous blackness of her dress, in the luminous blue-
+ness of the night. At a distance, she might have
+been a wraith; or a breeze made visible; a vagrom
+breeze, warm and delicate, and in league with
+death.
+     Yes, that is how she might have seemed to a
+casual observer. But to the Duke there was
+nothing weird about her: she was radiantly a
+woman; a goddess; and his first and last love.
+Bitter his heart was, but only against the mob
+she wooed, not against her for wooing it. She
+
+
+172      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+was cruel? All goddesses are that. She was
+demeaning herself? His soul welled up anew in
+pity, in passion.
+     Yonder, in the Hall, the concert ran its course,
+making a feeble incidental music to the dark
+emotions of the quadrangle. It ended somewhat
+before the close of Zuleika's rival show; and then
+the steps from the Hall were thronged by ladies,
+who, with a sprinkling of dons, stood in attitudes
+of refined displeasure and vulgar curiosity. The
+Warden was just awake enough to notice the sea
+of undergraduates. Suspecting some breach of
+College discipline, he retired hastily to his own
+quarters, for fear his dignity might be somehow
+compromised.
+     Was there ever, I wonder, an historian so pure
+as not to have wished just once to fob off on his
+readers just one bright fable for effect? I find
+myself sorely tempted to tell you that on Zuleika,
+as her entertainment drew to a close, the spirit of
+the higher thaumaturgy descended like a flame
+and found in her a worthy agent. Specious
+Apollyon whispers to me "Where would be the
+harm? Tell your readers that she cast a seed on
+the ground, and that therefrom presently arose
+a tamarind-tree which blossorned and bore fruit
+and, withering, vanished. Or say she conjured
+from an empty basket of osier a hissing and
+bridling snake. Why not? Your readers would
+be excited, gratified. And you would never be
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      173
+
+found out." But the grave eyes of Clio are bent
+on me, her servant. Oh pardon, madam: I did
+but waver for an instant. It is not too late to
+tell my readers that the climax of Zuleika's en-
+tertainment was only that dismal affair, the Magic
+Canister.
+     It she took from the table, and, holding it aloft,
+cried "Now, before I say good night, I want to
+see if I have your confidence. But you mustn't
+think this is the confidence trick!" She handed
+the vessel to The MacQuern, who, looking like
+an overgrown acolyte, bore it after her as she
+went again among the audience. Pausing before
+a man in the front row, she asked him if he would
+trust her with his watch. He held it out to her.
+"Thank you," she said, letting her fingers touch
+his for a moment before she dropped it into the
+Magic Canister. From another man she bor-
+rowed a cigarette-case, from another a neck-tie,
+from another a pair of sleeve-links, from Noaks
+a ring -- one of those iron rings which are sup-
+posed, rightly or wrongly, to alleviate rheuma-
+tism. And when she had made an ample selection,
+she began her return-journey to the table.
+     On her way she saw in the shadow of the wall
+the figure of her forgotten Duke. She saw him,
+the one man she had ever loved, also the first
+man who had wished definitely to die for her; and
+she was touched by remorse. She had said she
+would remember him to her dying day; and al-
+
+
+174      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+ready. . . But had he not refused her the where-
+withal to remember him -- the pearls she needed
+as the <i>clou</i> of her dear collection, the great relic
+among relics?
+     "Would you trust me with your studs?" she
+asked him, in a voice that could be heard through-
+out the quadrangle, with a smile that was for him
+alone.
+     There was no help for it. He quickly extri-
+cated from his shirt-front the black pearl and the
+pink. Her thanks had a special emphasis.
+     The MacQuern placed the Magic Canister be-
+fore her on the table. She pressed the outer
+sheath down on it. Then she inverted it so that
+the contents fell into the false lid; then she
+opened it, looked into it, and, exclaiming "Well,
+this is rather queer!" held it up so that the
+audience whose intelligence she was insulting
+might see there was nothing in it.
+     "Accidents," she said, "will happen in the best-
+regulated canisters! But I think there is just a
+chance that I shall be able to restore your prop-
+erty. Excuse me for a moment." She then shut
+the canister, released the false lid, made several
+passes over it, opened it, looked into it and said
+with a flourish "Now I can clear my character!"
+Again she went among the crowd, attended by
+The MacQuern; and the loans -- priceless now
+because she had touched them -- were in due course
+severally restored. When she took the canister
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      175
+
+from her acolyte, only the two studs remained
+in it.
+     Not since the night of her flitting from the
+Gibbs' humble home had Zuleika thieved. Was
+she a back-slider? Would she rob the Duke, and
+his heir-presumptive, and Tanville-Tankertons yet
+unborn? Alas, yes. But what she now did was
+proof that she had qualms. And her way of doing
+it showed that for legerdemain she had after all
+a natural aptitude which, properly trained, might
+have won for her an honourable place in at least
+the second rank of contemporary prestidigitators.
+With a gesture of her disengaged hand, so swift
+as to be scarcely visible, she unhooked her ear-
+rings and "passed" them into the canister. This
+she did as she turned away from the crowd, on
+her way to the Duke. At the same moment, in a
+manner technically not less good, though morally
+deplorable, she withdrew the studs and "van-
+ished" them into her bosom.
+     Was it triumph, or shame, or of both a little
+that so flushed her cheeks as she stood before the
+man she had robbed? Or was it the excitement
+of giving a present to the man she had loved?
+Certain it is that the nakedness of her ears gave
+a new look to her face -- a primitive look, open
+and sweetly wild. The Duke saw the difference,
+without noticing the cause. She was more adora-
+ble than ever. He blenched and swayed as in
+proximity to a loveliness beyond endurance. His
+
+
+176      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+heart cried out within him. A sudden mist came
+over his eyes.
+     In the canister that she held out to him, the
+two pearls rattled like dice.
+     "Keep them!" he whispered.
+     "I shall," she whispered back, almost shyly.
+"But these, these are for you." And she took one
+of his hands, and, holding it open, tilted the
+canister over it, and let drop into it the two ear-
+rings, and went quickly away.
+     As she re-appeared at the table, the crowd
+gave her a long ovation of gratitude for her per-
+formance -- an ovation all the more impressive be-
+cause it was solemn and subdued. She curtseyed
+again and again, not indeed with the timid sim-
+plicity of her first obeisance (so familiar already
+was she with the thought of the crowd's doom),
+but rather in the manner of a prima donna -- chin
+up, eyelids down, all teeth manifest, and hands
+from the bosom flung ecstatically wide asunder.
+     You know how, at a concert, a prima donna
+who has just sung insists on shaking hands with
+the accompanist, and dragging him forward, to
+show how beautiful her nature is, into the ap-
+plause that is for herself alone. And your heart,
+like mine, has gone out to the wretched victim.
+Even so would you have felt for The MacQuern
+when Zuleika, on the implied assumption that half
+the credit was his, grasped him by the wrist, and,
+continuing to curtsey, would not release him till
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      177
+
+the last echoes of the clapping had died away.
+     The ladies on the steps of the Hall moved
+down into the quadrangle, spreading their resent-
+ment like a miasma. The tragic passion of the
+crowd was merged in mere awkwardness. There
+was a general movement towards the College
+gate.
+     Zuleika was putting her tricks back into the
+great casket, The MacQuern assisting her. The
+Scots, as I have said, are a shy race, but a resolute
+and a self-seeking. This young chieftain had not
+yet recovered from what his heroine had let him
+in for. But he did not lose the opportunity of
+asking her to lunch with him to-morrow.
+     "Delighted," she said, fitting the Demon Egg-
+Cup into its groove. Then, looking up at him,
+"Are you popular?" she asked. "Have you
+many friends?" He nodded. She said he must
+invite them all.
+     This was a blow to the young man, who, at
+once thrifty and infatuate, had planned a lun-
+cheon <i>&agrave; deux</i>. "I had hoped --" he began.
+     "Vainly," she cut him short.
+     There was a pause. "Whom shall I invite,
+then?"
+     "I don't know any of them. How should I
+have preferences?" She remembered the Duke.
+She looked round and saw him still standing in
+the shadow of the wall. He came towards her.
+
+
+178      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+"Of course," she said hastily to her host, "you
+must ask <i>him</i>."
+     The MacQuern complied. He turned to the
+Duke and told him that Miss Dobson had very
+kindly promised to lunch with him to-morrow.
+"And," said Zuleika, "I simply <i>won't</i> unless you
+will."
+     The Duke looked at her. Had it not been ar-
+ranged that he and she should spend his last day
+together? Did it mean nothing that she had
+given him her ear-rings? Quickly drawing about
+him some remnants of his tattered pride, he hid
+his wound, and accepted the invitation.
+     "It seems a shame," said Zuleika to The Mac-
+Quern, "to ask you to bring this great heavy box
+all the way back again. But --"
+     Those last poor rags of pride fell away now.
+The Duke threw a prehensile hand on the casket,
+and, coldly glaring at The MacQuern, pointed
+with his other hand towards the College gate.
+He, and he alone, was going to see Zuleika home.
+It was his last night on earth, and he was not to
+be trifled with. Such was the message of his eyes.
+The Scotsman's flashed back a precisely similar
+message.
+     Men had fought for Zuleika, but never in her
+presence. Her eyes dilated. She had not the
+slightest impulse to throw herself between the
+two antagonists. Indeed, she stepped back, so as
+not to be in the way. A short sharp fight -- how
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      179
+
+much better that is than bad blood! She hoped
+the better man would win; and (do not mis-
+judge her) she rather hoped this man was the
+Duke. It occurred to her -- a vague memory of
+some play or picture -- that she ought to be hold-
+ing aloft a candelabra of lit tapers; no, that was
+only done indoors, and in the eighteenth century.
+Ought she to hold a sponge? Idle, these specula-
+tions of hers, and based on complete ignorance of
+the manners and customs of undergraduates. The
+Duke and The MacQuern would never have come
+to blows in the presence of a lady. Their con-
+flict was necessarily spiritual.
+     And it was the Scotsman, Scots though he was,
+who had to yield. Cowed by something demoniac
+in the will-power pitted against his, he found
+himself retreating in the direction indicated by
+the Duke's forefinger.
+     As he disappeared into the porch, Zuleika
+turned to the Duke. "You were splendid," she
+said softly. He knew that very well. Does the
+stag in his hour of victory need a diploma from
+the hind? Holding in his hands the malachite
+casket that was the symbol of his triumph, the
+Duke smiled dictatorially at his darling. He
+came near to thinking of her as a chattel. Then
+with a pang he remembered his abject devotion
+to her. Abject no longer though! The victory
+he had just won restored his manhood, his sense
+of supremacy among his fellows. He loved this
+
+
+180      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+woman on equal terms. She was transcendent?
+So was he, Dorset. To-night the world had on
+its moonlit surface two great ornaments -- Zuleika
+and himself. Neither of the pair could be re-
+placed. Was one of them to be shattered? Life
+and love were good. He had been mad to think
+of dying.
+     No word was spoken as they went together to
+Salt Cellar. She expected him to talk about her
+conjuring tricks. Could he have been disap-
+pointed? She dared not inquire; for she had the
+sensitiveness, though no other quality whatsoever,
+of the true artist. She felt herself aggrieved.
+She had half a mind to ask him to give her back
+her ear-rings. And by the way, he hadn't yet
+thanked her for them! Well, she would make
+allowances for a condemned man. And again
+she remembered the omen of which he had told
+her. She looked at him, and then up into the
+sky. "This same moon," she said to herself,
+"sees the battlements of Tankerton. Does she
+see two black owls there? Does she hear them
+hooting?"
+     They were in Salt Cellar now. "M&eacute;lisande!"
+she called up to her window.
+     "Hush!" said the Duke, "I have something to
+say to you."
+     "Well, you can say it all the better without
+that great box in your hands. I want my maid to
+carry it up to my room for me." And again she
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON       181
+
+called out for M&eacute;lisande, and received no answer.
+"I suppose she's in the house-keeper's room or
+somewhere. You had better put the box down
+inside the door. She can bring it up later."
+     She pushed open the postern; and the Duke,
+as he stepped across the threshold, thrilled with
+a romantic awe. Re-emerging a moment later
+into the moonlight, he felt that she had been
+right about the box: it was fatal to self-expres-
+sion; and he was glad he had not tried to speak
+on the way from the Front Quad: the soul needs
+gesture; and the Duke's first gesture now was to
+seize Zuleika's hands in his.
+     She was too startled to move. "Zuleika!" he
+whispered. She was too angry to speak, but with
+a sudden twist she freed her wrists and darted
+back.
+     He laughed. "You are afraid of me. You are
+afraid to let me kiss you, because you are afraid
+of loving me. This afternoon -- here -- I all but
+kissed you. I mistook you for Death. I was
+enamoured of Death. I was a fool. That is
+what <i>you</i> are, you incomparable darling: you are
+a fool. You are afraid of life. I am not. I love
+life. I am going to live for you, do you hear?"
+     She stood with her back to the postern. Anger
+in her eyes had given place to scorn. "You
+mean," she said, "that you go back on your
+promise?"
+     "You will release me from it."
+
+
+182      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+     "You mean you are afraid to die?"
+     "You will not be guilty of my death. You love
+me."
+     "Good night, you miserable coward." She
+stepped back through the postern.
+     "Don't, Zuleika! Miss Dobson, don't! Pull
+yourself together! Reflect! I implore you. . .
+You will repent. . ."
+     Slowly she closed the postern on him.
+     "You will repent. I shall wait here, under your
+window. . ."
+     He heard a bolt rasped into its socket. He
+heard the retreat of a light tread on the paven
+hall.
+     And he hadn't even kissed her! That was his
+first thought. He ground his heel in the gravel.
+     And he had hurt her wrists! This was Zu-
+leika's first thought, as she came into her bed-
+room. Yes, there were two red marks where
+he had held her. No man had ever dared to lay
+hands on her. With a sense of contamination,
+she proceeded to wash her hands thoroughly with
+soap and water. From time to time such words
+as "cad" and "beast" came through her teeth.
+     She dried her hands and flung herself into a
+chair, arose and went pacing the room. So this
+was the end of her great night! What had she
+done to deserve it? How had he dared?
+     There was a sound as of rain against the win-
+dow. She was glad. The night needed cleansing.
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      183
+
+     He had told her she was afraid of life. Life!
+-- to have herself caressed by <i>him;</i> humbly to
+devote herself to being humbly doted on; to be
+the slave of a slave; to swim in a private pond
+of treacle -- ugh! If the thought weren't so cloy-
+ing and degrading, it would be laughable.
+     For a moment her hands hovered over those
+two golden and gemmed volumes encasing Brad-
+shaw and the A.B.C. Guide. To leave Oxford by
+an early train, leave him to drown unthanked,
+unlooked at. . . But this could not be done with-
+out slighting all those hundreds of other men. . .
+And besides. . .
+     Again that sound on the window-pane. This
+time it startled her. There seemed to be no rain.
+Could it have been -- little bits of gravel? She
+darted noiselessly to the window, pushed it open,
+and looked down. She saw the upturned face of
+the Duke. She stepped back, trembling with
+fury, staring around her. Inspiration came.
+     She thrust her head out again. "Are you
+there?" she whispered.
+     "Yes, yes. I knew you would come."
+     "Wait a moment, wait!"
+     The water-jug stood where she had left it, on
+the floor by the wash-stand. It was almost full,
+rather heavy. She bore it steadily to the window,
+and looked out.
+     "Come a little nearer!" she whispered.
+     The upturned and moonlit face obeyed her.
+
+
+184      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+She saw its lips forming the word "Zuleika." She
+took careful aim.
+     Full on the face crashed the cascade of moonlit
+water, shooting out on all sides like the petals of
+some great silver anemone.
+     She laughed shrilly as she leapt back, letting
+the empty jug roll over on the carpet. Then she
+stood tense, crouching, her hands to her mouth,
+her eyes askance, as much as to say "Now I've
+done it!" She listened hard, holding her breath.
+In the stillness of the night was a faint sound of
+dripping water, and presently of footsteps going
+away. Then stillness unbroken.
+
+
+XI
+
+I SAID that I was Clio's servant. And I felt,
+when I said it, that you looked at me dubiously,
+and murmured among yourselves.
+     Not that you doubted I was somewhat con-
+nected with Clio's household. The lady after
+whom I have named this book is alive, and well
+known to some of you personally, to all of you by
+repute. Nor had you finished my first page be-
+fore you guessed my theme to be that episode in
+her life which caused so great a sensation among
+the newspaper-reading public a few years ago.
+(It all seems but yesterday, does it not? They
+are still vivid to us, those head-lines. We have
+hardly yet ceased to be edified by the morals
+pointed in those leading articles.) And yet very
+soon you found me behaving just like any novelist
+-reporting the exact words that passed between
+the protagonists at private interviews -- aye, and
+the exact thoughts and emotions that were in their
+breasts. Little wonder that you wondered! Let
+me make things clear to you.
+     I have my mistress' leave to do this. At first
+(for reasons which you will presently understand)
+she demurred. But I pointed out to her that I
+
+185
+
+
+186      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+had been placed in a false position, and that until
+this were rectified neither she nor I could reap
+the credit due to us.
+     Know, then, that for a long time Clio had been
+thoroughly discontented. She was happy enough,
+she says, when first she left the home of Pierus,
+her father, to become a Muse. On those humble
+beginnings she looks back with affection. She
+kept only one servant, Herodotus. The romantic
+element in him appealed to her. He died, and
+she had about her a large staff of able and faithful
+servants, whose way of doing their work irritated
+and depressed her. To them, apparently, life
+consisted of nothing but politics and military op-
+erations -- things to which she, being a woman,
+was somewhat indifferent. She was jealous of
+Melpomene. It seemed to her that her own ser-
+vants worked from without at a mass of dry
+details which might as well be forgotten. Melpo-
+mene's worked on material that was eternally
+interesting -- the souls of men and women; and
+not from without, either; but rather casting
+themselves into those souls and showing to us the
+essence of them. She was particularly struck by
+a remark of Aristotle's, that tragedy was <i>more
+philosophic</i> than history, inasmuch as it concerned
+itself with what might be, while history was con-
+cerned with merely what had been. This summed
+up for her what she had often felt, but could not
+have exactly formulated. She saw that the de-
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      187
+
+partment over which she presided was at best an
+inferior one. She saw that just what she had
+liked -- and rightly liked -- in poor dear Herodotus
+was just what prevented him from being a good
+historian. It was wrong to mix up facts and
+fancies. But why should her present servants deal
+with only one little special set of the variegated
+facts of life? It was not in her power to inter-
+fere. The Nine, by the terms of the charter that
+Zeus had granted to them, were bound to leave
+their servants an absolutely free hand. But Clio
+could at least refrain from reading the works
+which, by a legal fiction, she was supposed to
+inspire. Once or twice in the course of a century,
+she would glance into this or that new history
+book, only to lay it down with a shrug of her
+shoulders. Some of the medi&aelig;val chronicles she
+rather liked. But when, one day, Pallas asked
+her what she thought of "The Decline and Fall
+of the Roman Empire" her only answer was
+<i>ostis toia echei en edone echei en edone toia</i> (For
+people who like that kind of thing, that is the
+kind of thing they like). This she did let slip.
+Generally, throughout all the centuries, she kept
+up a pretence of thinking history the greatest of
+all the arts. She always held her head high
+among her Sisters. It was only on the sly that
+she was an omnivorous reader of dramatic and
+lyric poetry. She watched with keen interest the
+earliest developments of the prose romance in
+
+
+188      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+southern Europe; and after the publication of
+'"Clarissa Harlowe" she spent practically all her
+time in reading novels. It was not until the
+Spring of the year 1863 that an entirely new ele-
+ment forced itself into her peaceful life. Zeus
+fell in love with her.
+     To us, for whom so quickly "time doth transfix
+the flourish set on youth," there is something
+strange, even a trifle ludicrous, in the thought
+that Zeus, after all these years, is still at the beck
+and call of his passions. And it seems anyhow
+lamentable that he has not yet gained self-confi-
+dence enough to appear in his own person to the
+lady of his choice, and is still at pains to trans-
+form himself into whatever object he deems like-
+liest to please her. To Clio, suddenly from
+Olympus, he flashed down in the semblance of
+Kinglake's "Invasion of the Crimea" (four vols.,
+large 8vo, half-calf). She saw through his dis-
+guise immediately, and, with great courage and
+independence, bade him begone. Rebuffed, he
+was not deflected. Indeed it would seem that
+Clio's high spirit did but sharpen his desire.
+Hardly a day passed but he appeared in what he
+hoped would be the irresistible form -- a recently
+discovered fragment of Polybius, an advance copy
+of the forthcoming issue of "The Historical Re-
+view," the note-book of Professor Carl V&ouml;rt-
+schlaffen. . . One day, all-prying Hermes told
+him of Clio's secret addiction to novel-reading.
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      189
+
+Thenceforth, year in, year out, it was in the form
+of fiction that Zeus wooed her. The sole result
+was that she grew sick of the sight of novels,
+and found a perverse pleasure in reading history.
+These dry details of what had actually happened
+were a relief, she told herself, from all that make-
+believe.
+     One Sunday afternoon -- the day before that
+very Monday on which this narrative opens -- it
+occurred to her how fine a thing history might be
+if the historian had the novelist's privileges. Sup-
+pose he could be present at every scene which he
+was going to describe, a presence invisible and
+inevitable, and equipped with power to see into
+the breasts of all the persons whose actions he set
+himself to watch. . .
+     While the Muse was thus musing, Zeus (dis-
+guised as Miss Annie S. Swan's latest work) paid
+his usual visit. She let her eyes rest on him.
+Hither and thither she divided her swift mind, and
+addressed him in winged words. "Zeus, father
+of gods and men, cloud-compeller, what wouldst
+thou of me? But first will I say what I would of
+thee"; and she besought him to extend to the
+writers of history such privileges as are granted
+to novelists. His whole manner had changed.
+He listened to her with the massive gravity of a
+ruler who never yet has allowed private influence
+to obscure his judgment. He was silent for some
+time after her appeal. Then, in a voice of thun-
+
+
+190      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+der, which made quake the slopes of Parnassus,
+he gave his answer. He admitted the disabilities
+under which historians laboured. But the novel-
+ists -- were they not equally handicapped? They
+had to treat of persons who never existed, events
+which never were. Only by the privilege of being
+in the thick of those events, and in the very bowels
+of those persons, could they hope to hold the
+reader's attention. If similar privileges were
+granted to the historian, the demand for novels
+would cease forthwith, and many thousand of
+hard-working, deserving men and women would
+be thrown out of employment. In fact, Clio had
+asked him an impossible favour. But he might --
+he said he conceivably might -- be induced to let
+her have her way just once. In that event, all she
+would have to do was to keep her eye on the
+world's surface, and then, so soon as she had
+reason to think that somewhere was impending
+something of great import, to choose an historian.
+On him, straightway, Zeus would confer invisi-
+bility, inevitability, and psychic penetration, with
+a flawless memory thrown in.
+     On the following afternoon, Clio's roving eye
+saw Zuleika stepping from the Paddington plat-
+form into the Oxford train. A few moments later
+I found myself suddenly on Parnassus. In hurried
+words Clio told me how I came there, and what I
+had to do. She said she had selected me because
+she knew me to be honest, sober, and capable,
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      191
+
+and no stranger to Oxford. Another moment,
+and I was at the throne of Zeus. With a majesty
+of gesture which I shall never forget, he stretched
+his hand over me, and I was indued with the
+promised gifts. And then, lo! I was on the plat-
+form of Oxford station. The train was not due
+for another hour. But the time passed pleasantly
+enough.
+     It was fun to float all unseen, to float all un-
+hampered by any corporeal nonsense, up and
+down the platform. It was fun to watch the in-
+most thoughts of the station-master, of the por-
+ters, of the young person at the buffet. But of
+course I did not let the holiday-mood master me.
+I realised the seriousness of my mission. I must
+concentrate myself on the matter in hand: Miss
+Dobson's visit. What was going to happen?
+Prescience was no part of my outfit. From what
+I knew about Miss Dobson, I deduced that she
+would be a great success. That was all. Had I
+had the instinct that was given to those Emperors
+in stone, and even to the dog Corke, I should
+have begged Clio to send in my stead some man
+of stronger nerve. She had charged me to be
+calmly vigilant, scrupulously fair. I could have
+been neither, had I from the outset foreseen all.
+Only because the immediate future was broken to
+me by degrees, first as a set of possibilities, then
+as a set of probabilities that yet might not come
+off, was I able to fulfil the trust imposed in me.
+
+
+192      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+Even so, it was hard. I had always accepted the
+doctrine that to understand all is to forgive all.
+Thanks to Zeus, I understood all about Miss
+Dobson, and yet there were moments when she
+repelled me -- moments when I wished to see her
+neither from without nor from within. So soon
+as the Duke of Dorset met her on the Monday
+night, I felt I was in duty bound to keep him
+under constant surveillance. Yet there were mo-
+ments when I was so sorry for him that I deemed
+myself a brute for shadowing him.
+     Ever since I can remember, I have been beset
+by a recurring doubt as to whether I be or be not
+quite a gentleman. I have never attempted to
+define that term: I have but feverishly wondered
+whether in its usual acceptation (whatever that
+is) it be strictly applicable to myself. Many peo-
+ple hold that the qualities connoted by it are
+primarily moral -- a kind heart, honourable con-
+duct, and so forth. On Clio's mission, I found
+honour and kindness tugging me in precisely op-
+posite directions. In so far as honour tugged the
+harder, was I the more or the less gentlemanly?
+But the test is not a fair one. Curiosity tugged
+on the side of honour. This goes to prove me a
+cad? Oh, set against it the fact that I did at one
+point betray Clio's trust. When Miss Dobson
+had done the deed recorded at the close of the
+foregoing chapter, I gave the Duke of Dorset an
+hour's grace.
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      193
+
+     I could have done no less. In the lives of most
+of us is some one thing that we would not after
+the lapse of how many years soever confess to
+our most understanding friend; the thing that
+does not bear thinking of; the one thing to be
+forgotten; the unforgettable thing. Not the com-
+mission of some great crime: this can be atoned
+for by great penances; and the very enormity of
+it has a dark grandeur. Maybe, some little deadly
+act of meanness, some hole-and-corner treachery?
+But what a man has once willed to do, his will
+helps him to forget. The unforgettable thing in
+his life is usually not a thing he has done or left
+undone, but a thing done to him -- some insolence
+or cruelty for which he could not, or did not,
+avenge himself. This it is that often comes back
+to him, years after, in his dreams, and thrusts
+itself suddenly into his waking thoughts, so that
+he clenches his hands, and shakes his head, and
+hums a tune loudly -- anything to beat it off. In
+the very hour when first befell him that odious
+humiliation, would you have spied on him? I
+gave the Duke of Dorset an hour's grace.
+     What were his thoughts in that interval, what
+words, if any, he uttered to the night, never will
+be known. For this, Clio has abused me in lan-
+guage less befitting a Muse than a fishwife. I
+do not care. I would rather be chidden by Clio
+than by my own sense of delicacy, any day.
+
+
+XII
+
+NOT less averse than from dogging the Duke was
+I from remaining another instant in the presence
+of Miss Dobson. There seemed to be no possible
+excuse for her. This time she had gone too far.
+She was outrageous. As soon as the Duke had
+had time to get clear away, I floated out into the
+night.
+     I may have consciously reasoned that the best
+way to forget the present was in the revival of
+memories. Or I may have been driven by a mere
+homing instinct. Anyhow, it was in the direction
+of my old College that I went. Midnight was
+tolling as I floated in through the shut grim gate
+at which I had so often stood knocking for ad-
+mission.
+     The man who now occupied my room had
+sported his oak -- my oak. I read the name on
+the visiting-card attached thereto -- E. J. Crad-
+dock -- and went in.
+     E. J. Craddock, interloper, was sitting at my
+table, with elbows squared and head on one side,
+in the act of literary composition. The oars and
+caps on my walls betokened him a rowing-man.
+Indeed, I recognised his somewhat heavy face as
+
+194
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      195
+
+that of the man whom, from the Judas barge this
+afternoon, I had seen rowing "stroke" in my
+College Eight.
+     He ought, therefore, to have been in bed and
+asleep two hours ago. And the offence of his
+vigil was aggravated by a large tumbler that stood
+in front of him, containing whisky and soda.
+From this he took a deep draught. Then he read
+over what he had written. I did not care to peer
+over his shoulder at MS. which, though written
+in my room, was not intended for my eyes. But
+the writer's brain was open to me; and he had
+written "I, the undersigned Edward Joseph
+Craddock, do hereby leave and bequeath all my
+personal and other property to Zuleika Dobson,
+spinster. This is my last will and testament."
+     He gnawed his pen, and presently altered the
+"hereby leave" to "hereby and herewith leave."
+Fool!
+     I thereby and therewith left him. As I emerged
+through the floor of the room above -- through the
+very carpet that had so often been steeped in wine,
+and encrusted with smithereens of glass, in the
+brave old days of a well-remembered occupant -- I
+found two men, both of them evidently reading-
+men. One of them was pacing round the room.
+"Do you know," he was saying, "what she re-
+minded me of, all the time? Those words --
+aren't they in the Song of Solomon? -- 'fair as the
+moon, clear as the sun, and. . .and. . .'"
+
+
+196      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+     "'Terrible as an army with banners,'" supplied
+his host -- rather testily, for he was writing a let-
+ter. It began "My dear Father. By the time you
+receive this I shall have taken a step which. . ."
+     Clearly it was vain to seek distraction in my
+old College. I floated out into the untenanted
+meadows. Over them was the usual coverlet of
+white vapour, trailed from the Isis right up to
+Merton Wall. The scent of these meadows' mois-
+ture is the scent of Oxford. Even in hottest noon,
+one feels that the sun has not dried <i>them</i>. Always
+there is moisture drifting across them, drifting
+into the Colleges. It, one suspects, must have
+had much to do with the evocation of what is
+called the Oxford spirit -- that gentlest spirit, so
+lingering and searching, so dear to them who as
+youths were brought into ken of it, so exasper-
+ating to them who were not. Yes, certainly, it is
+this mild, miasmal air, not less than the grey
+beauty and gravity of the buildings, that has
+helped Oxford to produce, and foster eternally,
+her peculiar race of artist-scholars, scholar-artists.
+The undergraduate, in his brief periods of resi-
+dence, is too buoyant to be mastered by the spirit
+of the place. He does but salute it, and catch the
+manner. It is on him who stays to spend his
+maturity here that the spirit will in its fulness
+gradually descend. The buildings and their tra-
+ditions keep astir in his mind whatsoever is gra-
+cious; the climate, enfolding and enfeebling him,
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      197
+
+lulling him, keeps him careless of the sharp, harsh,
+exigent realities of the outer world. Careless?
+Not utterly. These realities may be seen by him.
+He may study them, be amused or touched by
+them. But they cannot fire him. Oxford is too
+damp for that. The "movements" made there
+have been no more than protests against the mo-
+bility of others. They have been without the
+dynamic quality implied in their name. They have
+been no more than the sighs of men gazing at
+what other men had left behind them; faint, im-
+possible appeals to the god of retrogression, ut-
+tered for their own sake and ritual, rather than
+with any intent that they should be heard. Ox-
+ford, that lotus-land, saps the will-power, the
+power of action. But, in doing so, it clarifies the
+mind, makes larger the vision, gives, above all,
+that playful and caressing suavity of manner
+which comes of a conviction that nothing matters,
+except ideas, and that not even ideas are worth
+dying for, inasmuch as the ghosts of them slain
+seem worthy of yet more piously elaborate
+homage than can be given to them in their hey-
+day. If the Colleges could be transferred to the
+dry and bracing top of some hill, doubtless they
+would be more evidently useful to the nation. But
+let us be glad there is no engineer or enchanter to
+compass that task. <i>Egomet</i>, I would liefer have
+the rest of England subside into the sea than have
+Oxford set on a salubrious level. For there is
+
+
+198      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+nothing in England to be matched with what lurks
+in the vapours of these meadows, and in the shad-
+ows of these spires -- that mysterious, inenubilable
+spirit, spirit of Oxford. Oxford! The very sight
+of the word printed, or sound of it spoken, is
+fraught for me with most actual magic.
+     And on that moonlit night when I floated
+among the vapours of these meadows, myself less
+than a vapour, I knew and loved Oxford as never
+before, as never since. Yonder, in the Colleges,
+was the fume and fret of tragedy -- Love as
+Death's decoy, and Youth following her. What
+then? Not Oxford was menaced. Come what
+might, not a stone of Oxford's walls would be
+loosened, nor a wreath of her vapours be undone,
+nor lost a breath of her sacred spirit.
+     I floated up into the higher, drier air, that I
+might, for once, see the total body of that spirit.
+     There lay Oxford far beneath me, like a map in
+grey and black and silver. All that I had known
+only as great single things I saw now outspread
+in apposition, and tiny; tiny symbols, as it were,
+of themselves, greatly symbolising their oneness.
+There they lay, these multitudinous and disparate
+quadrangles, all their rivalries merged in the
+making of a great catholic pattern. And the roofs
+of the buildings around them seemed level with
+their lawns. No higher the roofs of the very
+towers. Up from their tiny segment of the earth's
+spinning surface they stood negligible beneath in-
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      199
+
+finity. And new, too, quite new, in eternity;
+transient upstarts. I saw Oxford as a place that
+had no more past and no more future than a
+mining-camp. I smiled down. O hoary and un-
+assailable mushroom!. . . But if a man carry his
+sense of proportion far enough, lo! he is back at
+the point from which he started. He knows that
+eternity, as conceived by him, is but an instant in
+eternity, and infinity but a speck in infinity. How
+should they belittle the things near to him?. . .
+Oxford was venerable and magical, after all, and
+enduring. Aye, and not because she would endure
+was it the less lamentable that the young lives
+within her walls were like to be taken. My
+equanimity was gone; and a tear fell on Oxford.
+     And then, as though Oxford herself were
+speaking up to me, the air vibrated with a sweet
+noise of music. It was the hour of one; the end
+of the Duke's hour of grace. Through the silvery
+tangle of sounds from other clocks I floated
+quickly down to the Broad.
+
+
+XIII
+
+I HAD on the way a horrible apprehension. What
+if the Duke, in his agony, had taken the one
+means to forgetfulness? His room, I could see,
+was lit up; but a man does not necessarily choose
+to die in the dark. I hovered, afraid, over the
+dome of the Sheldonian. I saw that the window
+of the room above the Duke's was also lit up.
+And there was no reason at all to doubt the sur-
+vival of Noaks. Perhaps the sight of him would
+hearten me.
+     I was wrong. The sight of Noaks in his room
+was as dismal a thing as could be. With his chin
+sunk on his breast, he sat there, on a rickety
+chair, staring up at the mantel-piece. This he
+had decked out as a sort of shrine. In the centre,
+aloft on an inverted tin that had contained Aber-
+nethy biscuits, stood a blue plush frame, with an
+inner rim of brass, several sizes too big for the
+picture-postcard installed in it. Zuleika's image
+gazed forth with a smile that was obviously not
+intended for the humble worshipper at this ex-
+ecrable shrine. On either side of her stood a
+small vase, one holding some geraniums, the other
+
+200
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      201
+
+some mignonette. And just beneath her was
+placed that iron ring which, rightly or wrongly,
+Noaks supposed to alleviate rheumatism -- that
+same iron ring which, by her touch to-night, had
+been charged for him with a yet deeper magic,
+insomuch that he dared no longer wear it, and
+had set it before her as an oblation.
+     Yet, for all his humility, he was possessed by
+a spirit of egoism that repelled me. While he sat
+peering over his spectacles at the beauteous image,
+he said again and again to himself, in a hollow
+voice, "I am so young to die." Every time he
+said this, two large, pear-shaped tears emerged
+from behind his spectacles, and found their way
+to his waistcoat. It did not seem to strike him
+that quite half of the undergraduates who con-
+templated death -- and contemplated it in a fear-
+less, wholesome, manly fashion -- were his juniors.
+It seemed to seem to him that his own death,
+even though all those other far brighter and more
+promising lives than his were to be sacrificed, was
+a thing to bother about. Well, if he did not want
+to die, why could he not have, at least, the courage
+of his cowardice? The world would not cease to
+revolve because Noaks still clung to its surface.
+For me the whole tragedy was cheapened by his
+participation in it. I was fain to leave him. His
+squint, his short legs dangling towards the floor,
+his tear-sodden waistcoat, and his refrain "I am
+so young to die," were beyond measure exasperat-
+
+
+202      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+ing. Yet I hesitated to pass into the room be-
+neath, for fear of what I might see there.
+     How long I might have paltered, had no sound
+come from that room, I know not. But a sound
+came, sharp and sudden in the night, instantly
+reassuring. I swept down into the presence of the
+Duke.
+     He stood with his head flung back and his arms
+folded, gorgeous in a dressing-gown of crimson
+brocade. In animation of pride and pomp, he
+looked less like a mortal man than like a figure
+from some great biblical group by Paul Veronese.
+     And this was he whom I had presumed to pity!
+And this was he whom I had half expected to
+find dead.
+     His face, usually pale, was now red; and his
+hair, which no eye had ever yet seen disordered,
+stood up in a glistening shock. These two changes
+in him intensified the effect of vitality. One of
+them, however, vanished as I watched it. The
+Duke's face resumed its pallor. I realised then
+that he had but blushed; and I realised, simul-
+taneously, that what had called that blush to his
+cheek was what had also been the signal to me
+that he was alive. His blush had been a pendant
+to his sneeze. And his sneeze had been a pendant
+to that outrage which he had been striving to
+forget. He had caught cold.
+     He had caught cold. In the hour of his soul's
+bitter need, his body had been suborned against
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      203
+
+him. Base! Had he not stripped his body of its
+wet vesture? Had he not vigorously dried his
+hair, and robed himself in crimson, and struck
+in solitude such attitudes as were most congruous
+with his high spirit and high rank? He had set
+himself to crush remembrance of that by which
+through his body his soul had been assailed. And
+well had he known that in this conflict a giant
+demon was his antagonist. But that his own body
+would play traitor -- no, this he had not foreseen.
+This was too base a thing to be foreseen.
+     He stood quite still, a figure orgulous and
+splendent. And it seemed as though the hot
+night, too, stood still, to watch him, in awe,
+through the open lattices of his window, breath-
+lessly. But to me, equipped to see beneath the
+surface, he was piteous, piteous in ratio to the
+pretension of his aspect. Had he crouched down
+and sobbed, I should have been as much relieved
+as he. But he stood seignorial and aquiline.
+     Painless, by comparison with this conflict in
+him, seemed the conflict that had raged in him
+yesternight. Then, it had been his dandihood
+against his passion for Zuleika. What mattered
+the issue? Whichever won, the victory were
+sweet. And of this he had all the while been
+subconscious, gallantly though he fought for his
+pride of dandihood. To-night in the battle be-
+tween pride and memory, he knew from the out-
+set that pride's was but a forlorn hope, and that
+
+
+204      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+memory would be barbarous in her triumph. Not
+winning to oblivion, he must hate with a fathom-
+less hatred. Of all the emotions, hatred is the
+most excruciating. Of all the objects of hatred,
+a woman once loved is the most hateful. Of all
+deaths, the bitterest that can befall a man is that
+he lay down his life to flatter the woman he deems
+vilest of her sex.
+     Such was the death that the Duke of Dorset
+saw confronting him. Most men, when they are
+at war with the past, have the future as ally.
+Looking steadfastly forward, they can forget.
+The Duke's future was openly in league with his
+past. For him, prospect was memory. All that
+there was for him of future was the death to
+which his honour was pledged. To envisage that
+was to. . .no, he would <i>not</i> envisage it! With a
+passionate effort he hypnotised himself to think
+of nothing at all. His brain, into which, by the
+power Zeus gave me, I was gazing, became a
+perfect vacuum, insulated by the will. It was
+the kind of experiment which scientists call "beau-
+tiful." And yes, beautiful it was.
+     But not in the eyes of Nature. She abhors a
+vacuum. Seeing the enormous odds against which
+the Duke was fighting, she might well have stood
+aside. But she has no sense of sport whatsoever.
+She stepped in.
+     At first I did not realise what was happening.
+I saw the Duke's eyes contract, and the muscles
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      205
+
+of his mouth drawn down, and, at the same time,
+a tense upward movement of his whole body.
+Then, suddenly, the strain undone: a downward
+dart of the head, a loud percussion. Thrice the
+Duke sneezed, with a sound that was as the
+bursting of the dams of body and soul together;
+then sneezed again.
+     Now was his will broken. He capitulated. In
+rushed shame and horror and hatred, pell-mell, to
+ravage him.
+     What care now, what use, for deportment? He
+walked coweringly round and round his room,
+with frantic gestures, with head bowed. He
+shuffled and slunk. His dressing-gown had the
+look of a gabardine.
+     Shame and horror and hatred went slashing
+and hewing throughout the fallen citadel. At
+length, exhausted, he flung himself down on the
+window-seat and leaned out into the night, pant-
+ing. The air was full of thunder. He clutched
+at his throat. From the depths of the black
+caverns beneath their brows the eyes of the un-
+sleeping Emperors watched him.
+     He had gone through much in the day that was
+past. He had loved and lost. He had striven to
+recapture, and had failed. In a strange resolve
+he had found serenity and joy. He had been at
+the point of death, and had been saved. He had
+seen that his beloved was worthless, and he had
+not cared. He had fought for her, and con-
+
+
+206      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+quered; and had pled with her, and -- all these
+memories were loathsome by reason of that final
+thing which had all the while lain in wait for him.
+     He looked back and saw himself as he had been
+at a score of crucial moments in the day -- always
+in the shadow of that final thing. He saw himself
+as he had been on the playing-fields of Eton;
+aye! and in the arms of his nurse, to and fro on
+the terrace of Tankerton -- always in the shadow
+of that final thing, always piteous and ludicrous,
+doomed. Thank heaven the future was unknow-
+able? It wasn't, now. To-morrow -- to-day -- he
+must die for that accursed fiend of a woman --
+the woman with the hyena laugh.
+     What to do meanwhile? Impossible to sleep.
+He felt in his body the strain of his quick se-
+quence of spiritual adventures. He was dog-tired.
+But his brain was furiously out of hand: no stop-
+ping it. And the night was stifling. And all the
+while, in the dead silence, as though his soul had
+ears, there was a sound. It was a very faint, un-
+earthly sound, and seemed to come from nowhere,
+yet to have a meaning. He feared he was rather
+over-wrought.
+     He must express himself. That would soothe
+him. Ever since childhood he had had, from time
+to time, the impulse to set down in writing his
+thoughts or his moods. In such exercises he had
+found for his self-consciousness the vent which
+natures less reserved than his find in casual talk
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      207
+
+with Tom, Dick and Harry, with Jane, Susan,
+and Liz. Aloof from either of these triads, he
+had in his first term at Eton taken to himself as
+confidant, and retained ever since, a great quarto
+volume, bound in red morocco and stamped with
+his coronet and cypher. It was herein, year by
+year, that his soul spread itself.
+     He wrote mostly in English prose; but other
+modes were not infrequent. Whenever he was
+abroad, it was his courteous habit to write in the
+language of the country where he was residing --
+French, when he was in his house on the Champs
+Elys&eacute;es; Italian, when he was in his villa at Baiae;
+and so on. When he was in his own country
+he felt himself free to deviate sometimes from the
+vernacular into whatever language were aptest to
+his frame of mind. In his sterner moods he grav-
+itated to Latin, and wrought the noble iron of
+that language to effects that were, if anything, a
+trifle over-impressive. He found for his highest
+flights of contemplation a handy vehicle in San-
+scrit. In hours of mere joy it was Greek poetry
+that flowed likeliest from his pen; and he had a
+special fondness for the metre of Alcaeus.
+     And now, too, in his darkest hour, it was Greek
+that surged in him -- iambics of thunderous wrath
+such as those which are volleyed by Prometheus.
+But as he sat down to his writing-table, and un-
+locked the dear old album, and dipped his pen
+in the ink, a great calm fell on him. The iambics
+
+
+208      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+in him began to breathe such sweetness as is on
+the lips of Alcestis going to her doom. But, just
+as he set pen to paper, his hand faltered, and he
+sprang up, victim of another and yet more violent
+fit of sneezing.
+     Disbuskined, dangerous. The spirit of Juvenal
+woke in him. He would flay. He would make
+Woman (as he called Zuleika) writhe. Latin
+hexameters, of course. An epistle to his heir pre-
+sumptive. . . "Vae tibi," he began,
+
+     "Vae tibi, vae misero, nisi circumspexeris artes
+     Femineas, nam nulla salus quin femina possit
+     Tradere, nulla fides quin" --
+
+"Quin," he repeated. In writing soliloquies,
+his trouble was to curb inspiration. The thought
+that he was addressing his heir-presumptive -- now
+heir-only-too-apparent -- gave him pause. Nor,
+he reflected, was he addressing this brute only, but
+a huge posthumous audience. These hexameters
+would be sure to appear in the "authorised" bi-
+ography. "A melancholy interest attaches to the
+following lines, written, it would seem, on the
+very eve of". . . He winced. Was it really pos-
+sible, and no dream, that he was to die to-morrow
+-- to-day?
+     Even you, unassuming reader, go about with
+a vague notion that in your case, somehow, the
+ultimate demand of nature will be waived. The
+Duke, until he conceived his sudden desire to die,
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      209
+
+had deemed himself certainly exempt. And now,
+as he sat staring at his window, he saw in the
+paling of the night the presage of the dawn of his
+own last day. Sometimes (orphaned though he
+was in early childhood) he had even found it hard
+to believe there was no exemption for those to
+whom he stood in any personal relation. He
+remembered how, soon after he went to Eton, he
+had received almost with incredulity the news of
+the death of his god-father, Lord Stackley, an
+octogenarian. . . . He took from the table his
+album, knowing that on one of the earliest pages
+was inscribed his boyish sense of that bereave-
+ment. Yes, here the passage was, written in a
+large round hand:
+
+     "Death knocks, as we know, at the door of the
+cottage and of the castle. He stalks up the front-
+garden and the steep steps of the semi-detached
+villa, and plies the ornamental knocker so imperi-
+ously that the panels of imitation stained glass
+quiver in the thin front-door. Even the family
+that occupies the topmost story of a building
+without a lift is on his ghastly visiting-list. He
+rattles his fleshless knuckles against the door of
+the gypsy's caravan. Into the savage's tent, wig-
+wam, or wattled hut, he darts unbidden. Even
+on the hermit in the cave he forces his obnoxious
+presence. His is an universal beat, and he walks
+it with a grin. But be sure it is at the sombre
+
+
+210      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+portal of the nobleman that he knocks with the
+greatest gusto. It is there, where haply his visit
+will be commemorated with a hatchment; it is
+then, when the muffled thunder of the Dead
+March in 'Saul' will soon be rolling in cathedrals;
+it is then, it is there, that the pride of his unques-
+tioned power comes grimliest home to him. Is
+there no withstanding him? Why should he be
+admitted always with awe, a cravenly-honoured
+guest? When next he calls, let the butler send
+him about his business, or tell him to step round
+to the servants' entrance. If it be made plain to
+him that his visits are an impertinence, he will
+soon be disemboldened. Once the aristocracy
+make a stand against him, there need be no more
+trouble about the exorbitant Duties named after
+him. And for the hereditary system -- that system
+which both offends the common sense of the Rad-
+ical, and wounds the Tory by its implied admission
+that noblemen are mortal -- a seemly substitute
+will have been found."
+
+     Artless and crude in expression, very boyish,
+it seemed now to its author. Yet, in its simple
+wistfulness, it had quality: it rang true. The
+Duke wondered whether, with all that he had
+since mastered in the great art of English prose,
+he had not lost something, too.
+     "Is there no withstanding him?" To think
+that the boy who uttered that cry, and gave back
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      211
+
+so brave an answer, was within nine years to go
+seek death of his own accord! How the gods
+must be laughing! Yes, the exquisite point of the
+joke, for them, was that he <i>chose</i> to die. But --
+and, as the thought flashed through him, he
+started like a man shot -- what if he chose not to?
+Stay, surely there was some reason why he <i>must</i>
+die. Else, why throughout the night had he taken
+his doom for granted?. . . Honour: yes, he had
+pledged himself. Better death than dishonour.
+Was it, though? was it? Ah, he, who had come
+so near to death, saw dishonour as a tiny trifle.
+Where was the sting of it? Not he would be
+ridiculous to-morrow -- to-day. Every one would
+acclaim his splendid act of moral courage. She,
+she, the hyena woman, would be the fool. No one
+would have thought of dying for her, had he not
+set the example. Every one would follow his new
+example. Yes, he would save Oxford yet. That
+was his duty. Duty and darling vengeance! And
+life -- life!
+     It was full dawn now. Gone was that faint,
+monotonous sound which had punctuated in his
+soul the horrors of his vigil. But, in reminder of
+those hours, his lamp was still burning. He ex-
+tinguished it; and the going-out of that tarnished
+light made perfect his sense of release.
+     He threw wide his arms in welcome of the great
+adorable day, and of all the great adorable days
+that were to be his.
+
+
+212      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+     He leaned out from his window, drinking the
+dawn in. The gods had made merry over him,
+had they? And the cry of the hyena had made
+night hideous. Well, it was his turn now. He
+would laugh last and loudest.
+     And already, for what was to be, he laughed
+outright into the morning; insomuch that the birds
+in the trees of Trinity, and still more the Em-
+perors over the way, marvelled greatly.
+
+
+XIV
+
+THEY had awaited thousands and innumerable
+thousands of daybreaks in the Broad, these Em-
+perors, counting the long slow hours till the night
+were over. It is in the night especially that their
+fallen greatness haunts them. Day brings some
+distraction. They are not incurious of the lives
+around them -- these little lives that succeed one
+another so quickly. To them, in their immemorial
+old age, youth is a constant wonder. And so is
+death, which to them comes not. Youth or death
+-- which, they had often asked themselves, was the
+goodlier? But it was ill that these two things
+should be mated. It was ill-come, this day of
+days.
+     Long after the Duke was in bed and asleep, his
+peal of laughter echoed in the ears of the Em-
+perors. Why had he laughed?
+     And they said to themselves "We are very old
+men, and broken, and in a land not our own.
+There are things that we do not understand."
+     Brief was the freshness of the dawn. From all
+points of the compass, dark grey clouds mounted
+into the sky. There, taking their places as though
+in accordance to a strategic plan laid down for
+
+213
+
+
+214      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+them, they ponderously massed themselves, and
+presently, as at a given signal, drew nearer to
+earth, and halted, an irresistible great army,
+awaiting orders.
+     Somewhere under cover of them the sun went
+his way, transmitting a sulphurous heat. The
+very birds in the trees of Trinity were oppressed
+and did not twitter. The very leaves did not
+whisper.
+     Out through the railings, and across the road,
+prowled a skimpy and dingy cat, trying to look
+like a tiger.
+     It was all very sinister and dismal.
+     The hours passed. The Broad put forth, one
+by one, its signs of waking.
+     Soon after eight o'clock, as usual, the front-
+door of the Duke's lodgings was opened from
+within. The Emperors watched for the faint
+cloud of dust that presently emerged, and for her
+whom it preceded. To them, this first outcoming
+of the landlady's daughter was a moment of daily
+interest. Katie! -- they had known her as a tod-
+dling child; and later as a little girl scampering
+off to school, all legs and pinafore and streaming
+golden hair. And now she was sixteen years old.
+Her hair, tied back at the nape of her neck, would
+very soon be "up." Her big blue eyes were as
+they had always been; but she had long passed
+out of pinafores into aprons, had taken on a
+sedateness befitting her years and her duties, and
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      215
+
+was anxious to be regarded rather as an aunt
+than as a sister by her brother Clarence, aged
+twelve. The Emperors had always predicted that
+she would be pretty. And very pretty she was.
+     As she came slowly out, with eyes downcast to
+her broom, sweeping the dust so seriously over
+the doorstep and then across the pavement, and
+anon when she reappeared with pail and scrub-
+bing-brush, and abased herself before the door-
+step, and wrought so vehemently there, what filled
+her little soul was not the dignity of manual la-
+bour. The duties that Zuleika had envied her
+were dear to her exactly as they would have been,
+yesterday morning, to Zuleika. The Emperors
+had often noticed that during vacations their little
+favourite's treatment of the doorstep was languid
+and perfunctory. They knew well her secret, and
+always (for who can be long in England without
+becoming sentimental?) they cherished the hope
+of a romantic union between her and "a certain
+young gentleman," as they archly called the Duke.
+His continued indifference to her they took almost
+as an affront to themselves. Where in all Eng-
+land was a prettier, sweeter girl than their Katie?
+The sudden irruption of Zuleika into Oxford was
+especially grievous to them because they could
+no longer hope against hope that Katie would be
+led by the Duke to the altar, and thence into the
+highest social circles, and live happily ever after.
+Luckily it was for Katie, however, that they
+
+
+216      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+had no power to fill her head with their foolish
+notions. It was well for her to have never
+doubted she loved in vain. She had soon grown
+used to her lot. Not until yesterday had there
+been any bitterness. Jealousy surged in Katie at
+the very moment when she beheld Zuleika on the
+threshold. A glance at the Duke's face when she
+showed the visitor up was enough to acquaint her
+with the state of his heart. And she did not, for
+confirming her intuition, need the two or three
+opportunities she took of listening at the keyhole.
+What in the course of those informal audiences
+did surprise her -- so much indeed that she could
+hardly believe her ear -- was that it was possible
+for a woman not to love the Duke. Her jealousy
+of "that Miss Dobson" was for a while swallowed
+up in her pity for him. What she had borne so
+cheerfully for herself she could not bear for her
+hero. She wished she had not happened to listen.
+     And this morning, while she knelt swaying and
+spreading over "his" doorstep, her blue eyes
+added certain tears to be scrubbed away in the
+general moisture of the stone. Rising, she dried
+her hands in her apron, and dried her eyes with
+her hands. Lest her mother should see that she
+had been crying, she loitered outside the door.
+Suddenly, her roving glance changed to a stare
+of acute hostility. She knew well that the person
+wandering towards her was -- no, not "that Miss
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      217
+
+Dobson," as she had for the fraction of an instant
+supposed, but the next worst thing.
+     It has been said that M&eacute;lisande indoors was an
+evidently French maid. Out of doors she was not
+less evidently Zuleika's. Not that she aped her
+mistress. The resemblance had come by force of
+propinquity and devotion. Nature had laid no
+basis for it. Not one point of form or colour
+had the two women in common. It has been said
+that Zuleika was not strictly beautiful. M&eacute;lisande,
+like most Frenchwomen, was strictly plain. But in
+expression and port, in her whole <i>tournure</i>, she
+had become, as every good maid does, her mis-
+tress' replica. The poise of her head, the bold-
+ness of her regard and brilliance of her smile,
+the leisurely and swinging way in which she
+walked, with a hand on the hip -- all these things
+of hers were Zuleika's too. She was no conqueror.
+None but the man to whom she was betrothed --
+a waiter at the Caf&eacute; Tourtel, named Pell&eacute;as --
+had ever paid court to her; nor was she covetous
+of other hearts. Yet she looked victorious, and
+insatiable of victories, and "terrible as an army
+with banners."
+     In the hand that was not on her hip she carried
+a letter. And on her shoulders she had to bear
+the full burden of the hatred that Zuleika had
+inspired in Katie. But this she did not know.
+She came glancing boldly, leisurely, at the num-
+bers on the front-doors.
+
+
+218      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+     Katie stepped back on to the doorstep, lest the
+inferiority of her stature should mar the effect of
+her disdain.
+     "Good-day. Is it here that Duke D'Orsay
+lives?" asked M&eacute;lisande, as nearly accurate as a
+Gaul may be in such matters.
+     "The Duke of Dorset," said Katie with a cold
+and insular emphasis, "lives here." And "You,"
+she tried to convey with her eyes, "you, for all
+your smart black silk, are a hireling. I am Miss
+Batch. I happen to have a hobby for housework.
+I have not been crying."
+     "Then please mount this to him at once," said
+M&eacute;lisande, holding out the letter. "It is from
+Miss Dobson's part. Very express. I wait
+response."
+     "You are very ugly," Katie signalled with her
+eyes. "I am very pretty. I have the Oxfordshire
+complexion. And I play the piano." With her
+lips she said merely, "His Grace is not called be-
+fore nine o'clock."
+     "But to-day you go wake him now -- quick --
+is it not?"
+     "Quite out of the question," said Katie. "If
+you care to leave that letter here, I will see that
+it is placed on his Grace's breakfast-table, with
+the morning's post." "For the rest," added her
+eyes, "Down with France!"
+     "I find you droll, but droll, my little one!"
+cried M&eacute;lisande.
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      219
+
+     Katie stepped back and shut the door in her
+face. "Like a little Empress," the Emperors
+commented.
+     The Frenchwoman threw up her hands and
+apostrophised heaven. To this day she believes
+that all the <i>bonnes</i> of Oxford are mad, but mad,
+and of a madness.
+     She stared at the door, at the pail and scrub-
+bing-brush that had been shut out with her, at the
+letter in her hand. She decided that she had bet-
+ter drop the letter into the slit in the door and
+make report to Miss Dobson.
+     As the envelope fell through the slit to the
+door-mat, Katie made at M&eacute;lisande a grimace
+which, had not the panels been opaque, would
+have astonished the Emperors. Resuming her
+dignity, she picked the thing up, and, at arm's
+length, examined it. It was inscribed in pencil.
+Katie's lips curled at sight of the large, audacious
+handwriting. But it is probable that whatever
+kind of handwriting Zuleika might have had
+would have been just the kind that Katie would
+have expected.
+     Fingering the envelope, she wondered what the
+wretched woman had to say. It occurred to her
+that the kettle was simmering on the hob in the
+kitchen, and that she might easily steam open
+the envelope and master its contents. However,
+her doing this would have in no way affected the
+course of the tragedy. And so the gods (being
+
+
+220      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+to-day in a strictly artistic mood) prompted her
+to mind her own business.
+     Laying the Duke's table for breakfast, she
+made as usual a neat rectangular pile of the letters
+that had come for him by post. Zuleika's letter
+she threw down askew. That luxury she allowed
+herself.
+     And he, when he saw the letter, allowed him-
+self the luxury of leaving it unopened awhile.
+Whatever its purport, he knew it could but min-
+ister to his happy malice. A few hours ago, with
+what shame and dread it would have stricken
+him! Now it was a dainty to be dallied with.
+     His eyes rested on the black tin boxes that
+contained his robes of the Garter. Hateful had
+been the sight of them in the watches of the night,
+when he thought he had worn those robes for the
+last time. But now --!
+     He opened Zuleika's letter. It did not disap-
+point him.
+
+     "DEAR DUKE, -- <i>Do, do</i> forgive me. I am be-
+yond words ashamed of the silly tomboyish thing
+I did last night. Of course it was no worse than
+that, but an awful fear haunts me that you <i>may</i>
+have thought I acted in anger at the idea of your
+breaking your promise to me. Well, it is quite
+true I had been hurt and angry when you hinted
+at doing that, but the moment I left you I saw
+that you had been only in fun, and I enjoyed the
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      221
+
+joke against myself, though I thought it was
+rather too bad of you. And then, as a sort of re-
+venge, but almost before I knew what I was doing,
+I played that <i>idiotic</i> practical joke on you. I have
+been <i>miserable</i> ever since. <i>Do</i> come round as
+early as possible and tell me I am forgiven. But
+before you tell me that, please lecture me till I
+cry -- though indeed I have been crying half
+through the night. And then if you want to be
+<i>very</i> horrid you may tease me for being so slow
+to see a joke. And then you might take me to
+see some of the Colleges and things before we go
+on to lunch at The MacQuern's? Forgive pencil
+and scrawl. Am sitting up in bed to write. --
+Your sincere friend,                 "Z. D.
+     "P.S. -- Please burn this."
+
+     At that final injunction, the Duke abandoned
+himself to his mirth. "Please burn this." Poor
+dear young woman, how modest she was in the
+glare of her diplomacy! Why there was nothing,
+not one phrase, to compromise her in the eyes of
+a coroner's jury!. . . Seriously, she had good rea-
+son to be proud of her letter. For the purpose
+in view it couldn't have been better done. That
+was what made it so touchingly absurd. He put
+himself in her position. He pictured himself as
+her, "sitting up in bed," pencil in hand, to explain
+away, to soothe, to clinch and bind. . . Yes, if
+he had happened to be some other man -- one
+
+
+222      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+whom her insult might have angered without giv-
+ing love its death-blow, and one who could be
+frightened out of not keeping his word -- this let-
+ter would have been capital.
+     He helped himself to some more marmalade,
+and poured out another cup of coffee. Nothing
+is more thrilling, thought he, than to be treated
+as a cully by the person you hold in the hollow of
+your hand.
+     But within this great irony lay (to be glided
+over) another irony. He knew well in what
+mood Zuleika had done what she had done to
+him last night; yet he preferred to accept her ex-
+planation of it.
+     Officially, then, he acquitted her of anything
+worse than tomboyishness. But this verdict for
+his own convenience implied no mercy to the cul-
+prit. The sole point for him was how to ad-
+minister her punishment the most poignantly.
+Just how should he word his letter?
+     He rose from his chair, and "Dear Miss Dob-
+son -- no, <i>My</i> dear Miss Dobson," he murmured,
+pacing the room, "I am so very sorry I cannot
+come to see you: I have to attend two lectures this
+morning. By contrast with this weariness, it will
+be the more delightful to meet you at The Mac-
+Quern's. I want to see as much as I can of you
+to-day, because to-night there is the Bump Supper,
+and to-morrow morning, alas! I must motor to
+Windsor for this wretched Investiture. Mean-
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      223
+
+while, how can you ask to be forgiven when there
+is nothing whatever to forgive? It seems to me
+that mine, not yours, is the form of humour that
+needs explanation. My proposal to die for you
+was made in as playful a spirit as my proposal
+to marry you. And it is really for me to ask for-
+giveness of you. One thing especially," he mur-
+mured, fingering in his waistcoat-pocket the ear-
+rings she had given him, "pricks my conscience.
+I do feel that I ought not to have let you give
+me these two pearls -- at any rate, not the one
+which went into premature mourning for me. As
+I have no means of deciding which of the two this
+one is, I enclose them both, with the hope that
+the pretty difference between them will in time re-
+appear". . . Or words to that effect. . . Stay!
+why not add to the joy of contriving that effect
+the greater joy of watching it? Why send Zu-
+leika a letter? He would obey her summons.
+He would speed to her side. He snatched up a
+hat.
+     In this haste, however, he detected a certain
+lack of dignity. He steadied himself, and went
+slowly to the mirror. There he adjusted his hat
+with care, and regarded himself very seriously,
+very sternly, from various angles, like a man in-
+vited to paint his own portrait for the Uffizi. He
+must be worthy of himself. It was well that
+Zuleika should be chastened. Great was her sin.
+Out of life and death she had fashioned toys for
+
+
+224     ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+her vanity. But his joy must be in vindication of
+what was noble, not in making suffer what was
+vile. Yesterday he had been her puppet, her
+Jumping-Jack; to-day it was as avenging angel
+that he would appear before her. The gods had
+mocked him who was now their minister. Their
+minister? Their master, as being once more
+master of himself. It was they who had plotted
+his undoing. Because they loved him they were
+fain that he should die young. The Dobson
+woman was but their agent, their cat's-paw. By
+her they had all but got him. Not quite! And
+now, to teach them, through her, a lesson they
+would not soon forget, he would go forth.
+     Shaking with laughter, the gods leaned over
+the thunder-clouds to watch him.
+     He went forth.
+     On the well-whitened doorstep he was con-
+fronted by a small boy in uniform bearing a tele-
+gram.
+     "Duke of Dorset?" asked the small boy.
+     Opening the envelope, the Duke saw that the
+message, with which was a prepaid form for re-
+ply, had been handed in at the Tankerton post-
+office. It ran thus:
+
+     <i>Deeply regret inform your grace last night
+     two black owls came and perched on battle-
+     ments remained there through night hooting
+     at dawn flew away none knows whither
+     awaiting instructions            Jellings</i>
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      225
+
+     The Duke's face, though it grew white, moved
+not one muscle.
+     Somewhat shamed now, the gods ceased from
+laughing.
+     The Duke looked from the telegram to the boy.
+"Have you a pencil?" he asked.
+     "Yes, my Lord," said the boy, producing a
+stump of pencil.
+     Holding the prepaid form against the door, the
+Duke wrote:
+
+     <i>Jellings Tankerton Hall
+        Prepare vault for funeral Monday
+                                   Dorset</i>
+
+     His handwriting was as firmly and minutely
+beautiful as ever. Only in that he forgot there
+was nothing to pay did he belie his calm. "Here,"
+he said to the boy, "is a shilling; and you may
+keep the change."
+     "Thank you, my Lord," said the boy, and went
+his way, as happy as a postman.
+
+
+XV
+
+HUMPHREY GREDDON, in the Duke's place, would
+have taken a pinch of snuff. But he could not
+have made that gesture with a finer air than the
+Duke gave to its modern equivalent. In the art
+of taking and lighting a cigarette, there was one
+man who had no rival in Europe. This time he
+outdid even himself.
+     "Ah," you say, "but 'pluck' is one thing, en-
+durance another. A man who doesn't reel on
+receipt of his death-warrant may yet break down
+when he has had time to think it over. How did
+the Duke acquit himself when he came to the end
+of his cigarette? And by the way, how was it that
+after he had read the telegram you didn't give
+him again an hour's grace?"
+     In a way, you have a perfect right to ask both
+those questions. But their very pertinence shows
+that you think I might omit things that matter.
+Please don't interrupt me again. Am <i>I</i> writing
+this history, or are you?
+     Though the news that he must die was a yet
+sharper douche, as you have suggested, than the
+douche inflicted by Zuleika, it did at least leave
+unscathed the Duke's pride. The gods can make
+
+226
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      227
+
+a man ridiculous through a woman, but they can-
+not make him ridiculous when they deal him a
+blow direct. The very greatness of their power
+makes them, in that respect, impotent. They had
+decreed that the Duke should die, and they had
+told him so. There was nothing to demean him
+in that. True, he had just measured himself
+against them. But there was no shame in being
+gravelled. The peripety was according to the
+best rules of tragic art. The whole thing was
+in the grand manner.
+     Thus I felt that there were no indelicacy, this
+time, in watching him. Just as "pluck" comes
+of breeding, so is endurance especially an attribute
+of the artist. Because he can stand outside him-
+self, and (if there be nothing ignoble in them)
+take a pleasure in his own sufferings, the artist
+has a huge advantage over you and me. The
+Duke, so soon as Zuleika's spell was broken, had
+become himself again -- a highly self-conscious
+artist in life. And now, standing pensive on the
+doorstep, he was almost enviable in his great
+affliction.
+     Through the wreaths of smoke which, as they
+came from his lips, hung in the sultry air as they
+would have hung in a closed room, he gazed up
+at the steadfast thunder-clouds. How nobly they
+had been massed for him! One of them, a par-
+ticularly large and dark one, might with advan-
+tage, he thought, have been placed a little further
+
+
+228      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+to the left. He made a gesture to that effect.
+Instantly the cloud rolled into position. The gods
+were painfully anxious, now, to humour him in
+trifles. His behaviour in the great emergency
+had so impressed them at a distance that they
+rather dreaded meeting him anon at close quar-
+ters. They rather wished they had not uncaged,
+last night, the two black owls. Too late. What
+they had done they had done.
+     That faint monotonous sound in the stillness of
+the night -- the Duke remembered it now. What
+he had thought to be only his fancy had been his
+death-knell, wafted to him along uncharted waves
+of ether, from the battlements of Tankerton. It
+had ceased at daybreak. He wondered now that
+he had not guessed its meaning. And he was
+glad that he had not. He was thankful for the
+peace that had been granted to him, the joyous
+arrogance in which he had gone to bed and got
+up for breakfast. He valued these mercies the
+more for the great tragic irony that came of
+them. Aye, and he was inclined to blame the
+gods for not having kept him still longer in the
+dark and so made the irony still more awful.
+Why had they not caused the telegram to be de-
+layed in transmission? They ought to have let
+him go and riddle Zuleika with his scorn and his
+indifference. They ought to have let him hurl
+through her his defiance of them. Art aside, they
+need not have grudged him that excursion.
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      229
+
+     He could not, he told himself, face Zuleika
+now. As artist, he saw that there was irony
+enough left over to make the meeting a fine one.
+As theologian, he did not hold her responsible for
+his destiny. But as a man, after what she had
+done to him last night, and before what he had to
+do for her to-day, he would not go out of his way
+to meet her. Of course, he would not actually
+avoid her. To seem to run away from her were
+beneath his dignity. But, if he did meet her, what
+in heaven's name should he say to her? He re-
+membered his promise to lunch with The Mac-
+Quern, and shuddered. She would be there.
+Death, as he had said, cancelled all engagements.
+A very simple way out of the difficulty would be
+to go straight to the river. No, that would be
+like running away. It couldn't be done.
+     Hardly had he rejected the notion when he had
+a glimpse of a female figure coming quickly round
+the corner -- a glimpse that sent him walking
+quickly away, across the road, towards Turl
+Street, blushing violently. Had she seen him? he
+asked himself. And had she seen that he saw
+her? He heard her running after him. He did
+not look round, he quickened his pace. She was
+gaining on him. Involuntarily, he ran -- ran like
+a hare, and, at the corner of Turl Street, rose like
+a trout, saw the pavement rise at him, and fell,
+with a bang, prone.
+     Let it be said at once that in this matter the
+
+
+230      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+gods were absolutely blameless. It is true they
+had decreed that a piece of orange-peel should be
+thrown down this morning at the corner of Turl
+Street. But the Master of Balliol, not the Duke,
+was the person they had destined to slip on it.
+You must not imagine that they think out and
+appoint everything that is to befall us, down to
+the smallest detail. Generally, they just draw a
+sort of broad outline, and leave us to fill it in
+according to our taste. Thus, in the matters of
+which this book is record, it was they who made
+the Warden invite his grand-daughter to Oxford,
+and invite the Duke to meet her on the evening
+of her arrival. And it was they who prompted
+the Duke to die for her on the following (Tues-
+day) afternoon. They had intended that he
+should execute his resolve after, or before, the
+boat-race of that evening. But an oversight up-
+set this plan. They had forgotten on Monday
+night to uncage the two black owls; and so it was
+necessary that the Duke's death should be post-
+poned. They accordingly prompted Zuleika to
+save him. For the rest, they let the tragedy run
+its own course -- merely putting in a felicitous
+touch here and there, or vetoing a superfluity,
+such as that Katie should open Zuleika's letter.
+It was no part of their scheme that the Duke
+should mistake M&eacute;lisande for her mistress, or
+that he should run away from her, and they were
+genuinely sorry when he, instead of the Master
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      231
+
+of Balliol, came to grief over the orange-peel.
+     Them, however, the Duke cursed as he fell;
+them again as he raised himself on one elbow,
+giddy and sore; and when he found that the
+woman bending over him was not she whom he
+dreaded, but her innocent maid, it was against
+them that he almost foamed at the mouth.
+     "Monsieur le Due has done himself harm --
+no?" panted M&eacute;lisande. "Here is a letter from
+Miss Dobson's part. She say to me 'Give it him
+with your own hand.'"
+     The Duke received the letter and, sitting up-
+right, tore it to shreds, thus confirming a sus-
+picion which M&eacute;lisande had conceived at the
+moment when he took to his heels, that all Eng-
+lish noblemen are mad, but mad, and of a mad-
+ness.
+     "Nom de Dieu," she cried, wringing her hands,
+"what shall I tell to Mademoiselle?"
+     "Tell her --" the Duke choked back a phrase
+of which the memory would have shamed his last
+hours. "Tell her," he substituted, "that you have
+seen Marius sitting among the ruins of Carthage,"
+and limped quickly away down the Turl.
+     Both his hands had been abraded by the fall.
+He tended them angrily with his handkerchief.
+Mr. Druce, the chemist, had anon the privilege of
+bathing and plastering them, also of balming and
+binding the right knee and the left shin. "Might
+have been a very nasty accident, your Grace," he
+
+
+232      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+said. "It was," said the Duke. Mr. Druce con-
+curred.
+     Nevertheless, Mr. Druce's remark sank deep.
+The Duke thought it quite likely that the gods
+had intended the accident to be fatal, and that
+only by his own skill and lightness in falling had
+he escaped the ignominy of dying in full flight
+from a lady's-maid. He had not, you see, lost all
+sense of free-will. While Mr. Druce put the fin-
+ishing touches to his shin, "I am utterly pur-
+posed," he said to himself, "that for this death of
+mine I will choose my own manner and my own --
+well, not 'time' exactly, but whatever moment
+within my brief span of life shall seem aptest to
+me. <i>Unberufen</i>," he added, lightly tapping Mr.
+Druce's counter.
+     The sight of some bottles of Cold Mixture on
+that hospitable board reminded him of a painful
+fact. In the clash of the morning's excitements,
+he had hardly felt the gross ailment that was on
+him. He became fully conscious of it now, and
+there leapt in him a hideous doubt: had he es-
+caped a violent death only to succumb to "natural
+causes"? He had never hitherto had anything
+the matter with him, and thus he belonged to the
+worst, the most apprehensive, class of patients.
+He knew that a cold, were it neglected, might turn
+malignant; and he had a vision of himself gripped
+suddenly in the street by internal agonies -- a sym-
+pathetic crowd, an ambulance, his darkened bed-
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      233
+
+room; local doctor making hopelessly wrong
+diagnosis; eminent specialists served up hot by
+special train, commending local doctor's treat-
+ment, but shaking their heads and refusing to say
+more than "He has youth on his side"; a slight
+rally at sunset; the end. All this flashed through
+his mind. He quailed. There was not a moment
+to lose. He frankly confessed to Mr. Druce
+that he had a cold.
+     Mr. Druce, trying to insinuate by his manner
+that this fact had not been obvious, suggested the
+Mixture -- a teaspoonful every two hours. "Give
+me some now, please, at once," said the Duke.
+     He felt magically better for the draught. He
+handled the little glass lovingly, and eyed the bot-
+tle. "Why not two teaspoonfuls every hour?" he
+suggested, with an eagerness almost dipsomani-
+acal. But Mr. Druce was respectfully firm against
+that. The Duke yielded. He fancied, indeed, that
+the gods had meant him to die of an overdose.
+     Still, he had a craving for more. Few though
+his hours were, he hoped the next two would pass
+quickly. And, though he knew Mr. Druce could
+be trusted to send the bottle round to his rooms
+immediately, he preferred to carry it away with
+him. He slipped it into the breast-pocket of his
+coat, almost heedless of the slight extrusion it
+made there.
+     Just as he was about to cross the High again,
+on his way home, a butcher's cart dashed down
+
+
+234      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+the slope, recklessly driven. He stepped well
+back on the pavement, and smiled a sardonic
+smile. He looked to right and to left, carefully
+gauging the traffic. Some time elapsed before he
+deemed the road clear enough for transit.
+     Safely across, he encountered a figure that
+seemed to loom up out of the dim past. Oover!
+Was it but yesternight that Oover dined with
+him? With the sensation of a man groping
+among archives, he began to apologise to the
+Rhodes Scholar for having left him so abruptly
+at the Junta. Then, presto! -- as though those
+musty archives were changed to a crisp morning
+paper agog with terrific head-lines -- he remem-
+bered the awful resolve of Oover, and of all
+young Oxford.
+     "Of course," he asked, with a lightness that
+hardly hid his dread of the answer, "you have
+dismissed the notion you were toying with when
+I left you?"
+     Oover's face, like his nature, was as sensitive
+as it was massive, and it instantly expressed his
+pain at the doubt cast on his high seriousness.
+"Duke," he asked, "d'you take me for a skunk?"
+"Without pretending to be quite sure what a
+skunk is," said the Duke, "I take you to be all
+that it isn't. And the high esteem in which I
+hold you is the measure for me of the loss that
+your death would be to America and to Oxford."
+     Oover blushed. "Duke" he said "that's a
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      235
+
+bully testimonial. But don't worry. America can
+turn out millions just like me, and Oxford can
+have as many of them as she can hold. On the
+other hand, how many of <i>you</i> can be turned out,
+as per sample, in England? Yet you choose to
+destroy yourself. You avail yourself of the Un-
+written Law. And you're right, Sir. Love
+transcends all."
+     "But does it? What if I told you I had changed
+my mind?"
+     "Then, Duke," said Oover, slowly, "I should
+believe that all those yarns I used to hear about
+the British aristocracy were true, after all. I
+should aver that you were not a white man. Lead-
+ing us on like that, and then -- Say, Duke! Are
+you going to die to-day, or not?"
+     "As a matter of fact, I am, but --"
+     "Shake!"
+     "But --"
+     Oover wrung the Duke's hand, and was passing
+on. "Stay!" he was adjured.
+     "Sorry, unable. It's just turning eleven o'clock,
+and I've a lecture. While life lasts, I'm bound to
+respect Rhodes' intentions." The conscientious
+Scholar hurried away.
+     The Duke wandered down the High, taking
+counsel with himself. He was ashamed of having
+so utterly forgotten the mischief he had wrought
+at large. At dawn he had vowed to undo it.
+Undo it he must. But the task was not a simple
+
+
+236      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+one now. If he could say "Behold, I take back
+my word. I spurn Miss Dobson, and embrace
+life," it was possible that his example would
+suffice. But now that he could only say "Behold,
+I spurn Miss Dobson, and will not die for her,
+but I am going to commit suicide, all the same,"
+it was clear that his words would carry very little
+force. Also, he saw with pain that they placed
+him in a somewhat ludicrous position. His end,
+as designed yesterday, had a large and simple
+grandeur. So had his recantation of it. But this
+new compromise between the two things had a
+fumbled, a feeble, an ignoble look. It seemed
+to combine all the disadvantages of both courses.
+It stained his honour without prolonging his life.
+Surely, this was a high price to pay for snubbing
+Zuleika. . . Yes, he must revert without more
+ado to his first scheme. He must die in the man-
+ner that he had blazoned forth. And he must
+do it with a good grace, none knowing he was not
+glad; else the action lost all dignity. True, this
+was no way to be a saviour. But only by not
+dying at all could he have set a really potent ex-
+ample. . . . He remembered the look that had
+come into Oover's eyes just now at the notion of
+his unfaith. Perhaps he would have been the
+mock, not the saviour, of Oxford. Better dis-
+honour than death, maybe. But, since die he
+must, he must die not belittling or tarnishing the
+name of Tanville-Tankerton.
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      237
+
+     Within these bounds, however, he must put
+forth his full might to avert the general catas-
+trophe -- and to punish Zuleika nearly well enough,
+after all, by intercepting that vast nosegay from
+her outstretched hands and her distended nostrils.
+There was no time to be lost, then. But he won-
+dered, as he paced the grand curve between St.
+Mary's and Magdalen Bridge, just how was he
+to begin?
+     Down the flight of steps from Queen's came
+lounging an average undergraduate.
+     "Mr. Smith," said the Duke, "a word with
+you."
+     "But my name is not Smith,"said the young man.
+     "Generically it is," replied the Duke. "You
+are Smith to all intents and purposes. That,
+indeed, is why I address you. In making your
+acquaintance, I make a thousand acquaintances.
+You are a short cut to knowledge. Tell me, do
+you seriously think of drowning yourself this
+afternoon?"
+     "Rather," said the undergraduate.
+     "A meiosis in common use, equivalent to 'Yes,
+assuredly,'" murmured the Duke. "And why,"
+he then asked, "do you mean to do this?"
+     "Why? How can you ask? Why are <i>you</i>
+going to do it?"
+     "The Socratic manner is not a game at which
+two can play. Please answer my question, to the
+best of your ability."
+
+
+238      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+     "Well, because I can't live without her. Be-
+cause I want to prove my love for her. Be-
+cause --"
+     "One reason at a time please," said the Duke,
+holding up his hand. "You can't live without
+her? Then I am to assume that you look forward
+to dying?"
+     "Rather."
+     "You are truly happy in that prospect?"
+     "Yes. Rather."
+     "Now, suppose I showed you two pieces of
+equally fine amber -- a big one and a little one.
+Which of these would you rather possess?"
+     "The big one, I suppose."
+     "And this because it is better to have more
+than to have less of a good thing?"
+     "Just so."
+     "Do you consider happiness a good thing or a
+bad one?"
+     "A good one."
+     "So that a man would rather have more than
+less of happiness?"
+     "Undoubtedly."
+     "Then does it not seem to you that you would
+do well to postpone your suicide indefinitely?"
+     "But I have just said I can't live without her."
+     "You have still more recently declared yourself
+truly happy."
+     "Yes, but --"
+     "Now, be careful, Mr. Smith. Remember, this
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      239
+
+is a matter of life and death. Try to do yourself
+justice. I have asked you --"
+     But the undergraduate was walking away, not
+without a certain dignity.
+     The Duke felt that he had not handled his
+man skilfully. He remembered that even Socrates,
+for all the popular charm of his mock-modesty
+and his true geniality, had ceased after a while
+to be tolerable. Without such a manner to grace
+his method, Socrates would have had a very brief
+time indeed. The Duke recoiled from what he
+took to be another pitfall. He almost smelt
+hemlock.
+     A party of four undergraduates abreast was
+approaching. How should he address them? His
+choice wavered between the evangelic wistfulness
+of "Are you saved?" and the breeziness of the
+recruiting sergeant's "Come, you're fine upstand-
+ing young fellows. Isn't it a pity," etc. Mean-
+while, the quartet had passed by.
+     Two other undergraduates approached. The
+Duke asked them simply as a personal favour to
+himself not to throw away their lives. They said
+they were very sorry, but in this particular matter
+they must please themselves. In vain he pled.
+They admitted that but for his example they
+would never have thought of dying. They wished
+they could show him their gratitude in any way
+but the one which would rob them of it.
+     The Duke drifted further down the High, be-
+
+
+240      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+speaking every undergraduate he met, leaving un-
+tried no argument, no inducement. For one man,
+whose name he happened to know, he invented
+an urgent personal message from Miss Dobson
+imploring him not to die on her account. On
+another man he offered to settle by hasty codicil
+a sum of money sufficient to yield an annual in-
+come of two thousand pounds -- three thousand --
+any sum within reason. With another he offered
+to walk, arm in arm, to Carfax and back again.
+All to no avail.
+     He found himself in the precincts of Mag-
+dalen, preaching from the little open-air pulpit
+there an impassioned sermon on the sacredness
+of human life, and referring to Zuleika in terms
+which John Knox would have hesitated to utter.
+As he piled up the invective, he noticed an omi-
+nous restiveness in the congregation -- murmurs,
+clenching of hands, dark looks. He saw the pul-
+pit as yet another trap laid for him by the gods.
+He had walked straight into it: another moment,
+and he might be dragged down, overwhelmed by
+numbers, torn limb from limb. All that was in
+him of quelling power he put hastily into his eyes,
+and man&oelig;uvred his tongue to gentler discourse,
+deprecating his right to judge "this lady," and
+merely pointing the marvel, the awful though
+noble folly, of his resolve. He ended on a note
+of quiet pathos. "To-night I shall be among the
+shades. There be not you, my brothers."
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      241
+
+     Good though the sermon was in style and senti-
+ment, the flaw in its reasoning was too patent for
+any converts to be made. As he walked out of
+the quadrangle, the Duke felt the hopelessness of
+his cause. Still he battled bravely for it up the
+High, waylaying, cajoling, commanding, offering
+vast bribes. He carried his crusade into the
+Loder, and thence into Vincent's, and out into the
+street again, eager, untiring, unavailing: every-
+where he found his precept checkmated by his
+example.
+     The sight of The MacQuern coming out top-
+speed from the Market, with a large but inex-
+pensive bunch of flowers, reminded him of the
+luncheon that was to be. Never to throw over
+an engagement was for him, as we have seen, a
+point of honour. But this particular engagement
+-- hateful, when he accepted it, by reason of his
+love -- was now impossible for the reason which
+had made him take so ignominiously to his heels
+this morning. He curtly told the Scot not to
+expect him.
+     "Is <i>she</i> not coming?" gasped the Scot, with
+quick suspicion.
+     "Oh," said the Duke, turning on his heel,
+"she doesn't know that I shan't be there. You
+may count on her." This he took to be the very
+truth, and he was glad to have made of it a
+thrust at the man who had so uncouthly asserted
+himself last night. He could not help smiling,
+
+
+242      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+though, at this little resentment erect after the
+cataclysm that had swept away all else. Then he
+smiled to think how uneasy Zuleika would be
+at his absence. What agonies of suspense she
+must have had all this morning! He imagined
+her silent at the luncheon, with a vacant gaze at
+the door, eating nothing at all. And he became
+aware that he was rather hungry. He had done
+all he could to save young Oxford. Now for
+some sandwiches! He went into the Junta.
+     As he rang the dining-room bell, his eyes rested
+on the miniature of Nellie O'Mora. And the eyes
+of Nellie O'Mora seemed to meet his in re-
+proach. Just as she may have gazed at Greddon
+when he cast her off, so now did she gaze at him
+who a few hours ago had refused to honour her
+memory.
+     Yes, and many other eyes than hers rebuked
+him. It was around the walls of this room that
+hung those presentments of the Junta as fo-
+cussed, year after year, in a certain corner of
+Tom Quad, by Messrs. Hills and Saunders. All
+around, the members of the little hierarchy, a
+hierarchy ever changing in all but youth and a
+certain sternness of aspect that comes at the mo-
+ment of being immortalised, were gazing forth
+now with a sternness beyond their wont. Not one
+of them but had in his day handed on loyally
+the praise of Nellie O'Mora, in the form their
+Founder had ordained. And the Duke's revolt
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      243
+
+last night had so incensed them that they would,
+if they could, have come down from their frames
+and walked straight out of the club, in chrono-
+logical order -- first, the men of the 'sixties, almost
+as near in time to Greddon as to the Duke, all so
+gloriously be-whiskered and cravated, but how
+faded now, alas, by exposure; and last of all in
+the procession and angrier perhaps than any of
+them, the Duke himself -- the Duke of a year ago,
+President and sole Member.
+     But, as he gazed into the eyes of Nellie
+O'Mora now, Dorset needed not for penitence
+the reproaches of his past self or of his fore-
+runners. "Sweet girl," he murmured, "forgive
+me. I was mad. I was under the sway of a
+deplorable infatuation. It is past. See," he
+murmured with a delicacy of feeling that justi-
+fied the untruth, "I am come here for the express
+purpose of undoing my impiety." And, turning
+to the club-waiter who at this moment answered
+the bell, he said "Bring me a glass of port, please,
+Barrett." Of sandwiches he said nothing.
+     At the word "See" he had stretched one hand
+towards Nellie; the other he had laid on his heart,
+where it seemed to encounter some sort of hard
+obstruction. This he vaguely fingered, wonder-
+ing what it might be, while he gave his order to
+Barrett. With a sudden cry he dipped his hand
+into his breast-pocket and drew forth the bottle
+he had borne away from Mr. Druce's. He
+
+
+244      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+snatched out his watch: one o'clock! -- fifteen
+minutes overdue. Wildly he called the waiter
+back. "A tea-spoon, quick! No port. A wine-
+glass and a tea-spoon. And -- for I don't mind
+telling you, Barrett, that your mission is of an
+urgency beyond conjecture -- take lightning for
+your model. Go!"
+     Agitation mastered him. He tried vainly to
+feel his pulse, well knowing that if he found it he
+could deduce nothing from its action. He saw
+himself haggard in the looking-glass. Would
+Barrett never come? "Every two hours" -- the
+directions were explicit. Had he delivered him-
+self into the gods' hands? The eyes of Nellie
+O'Mora were on him compassionately; and all
+the eyes of his forerunners were on him in austere
+scorn: "See," they seemed to be saying, "the
+chastisement of last night's blasphemy." Vio-
+lently, insistently, he rang the bell.
+     In rushed Barrett at last. From the tea-spoon
+into the wine-glass the Duke poured the draught
+of salvation, and then, raising it aloft, he looked
+around at his fore-runners and in a firm voice
+cried "Gentlemen, I give you Nellie O'Mora, the
+fairest witch that ever was or will be." He
+drained his glass, heaved the deep sigh of a
+double satisfaction, dismissed with a glance the
+wondering Barrett, and sat down.
+     He was glad to be able to face Nellie with a
+clear conscience. Her eyes were not less sad now,
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      245
+
+but it seemed to him that their sadness came of
+a knowledge that she would never see him again.
+She seemed to be saying to him "Had you lived
+in my day, it is you that I would have loved, not
+Greddon." And he made silent answer, "Had
+you lived in my day, I should have been Dobson-
+proof." He realised, however, that to Zuleika he
+owed the tenderness he now felt for Miss
+O'Mora. It was Zuleika that had cured him of
+his aseity. She it was that had made his heart
+a warm and negotiable thing. Yes, and that was
+the final cruelty. To love and be loved -- this, he
+had come to know, was all that mattered. Yes-
+terday, to love and die had seemed felicity enough.
+Now he knew that the secret, the open secret, of
+happiness was in mutual love -- a state that needed
+not the fillip of death. And he had to die with-
+out having ever lived. Admiration, homage, fear,
+he had sown broadcast. The one woman who
+had loved him had turned to stone because he
+loved her. Death would lose much of its sting
+for him if there were somewhere in the world
+just one woman, however lowly, whose heart
+would be broken by his dying. What a pity Nellie
+O'Mora was not really extant!
+     Suddenly he recalled certain words lightly
+spoken yesterday by Zuleika. She had told him
+he was loved by the girl who waited on him -- the
+daughter of his landlady. Was this so? He had
+seen no sign of it, had received no token of it.
+
+
+246      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+But, after all, how should he have seen a sign of
+anything in one whom he had never consciously
+visualised? That she had never thrust herself
+on his notice might mean merely that she had been
+well brought-up. What likelier than that the
+daughter of Mrs. Batch, that worthy soul, had
+been well brought up?
+     Here, at any rate, was the chance of a new
+element in his life, or rather in his death. Here,
+possibly, was a maiden to mourn him. He would
+lunch in his rooms.
+     With a farewell look at Nellie's miniature, he
+took the medicine-bottle from the table, and went
+quickly out. The heavens had grown steadily
+darker and darker, the air more sulphurous and
+baleful. And the High had a strangely woebe-
+gone look, being all forsaken by youth, in this
+hour of luncheon. Even so would its look be all
+to-morrow, thought the Duke, and for many mor-
+rows. Well he had done what he could. He
+was free now to brighten a little his own last
+hours. He hastened on, eager to see the land-
+lady's daughter. He wondered what she was like,
+and whether she really loved him.
+     As he threw open the door of his sitting-room,
+he was aware of a rustle, a rush, a cry. In an-
+other instant, he was aware of Zuleika Dobson
+at his feet, at his knees, clasping him to her, sob-
+bing, laughing, sobbing.
+
+
+XVI
+
+FOR what happened a few moments later you
+must not blame him. Some measure of force was
+the only way out of an impossible situation. It
+was in vain that he commanded the young lady
+to let go: she did but cling the closer. It was
+in vain that he tried to disentangle himself of
+her by standing first on one foot, then on the
+other, and veering sharply on his heel: she did
+but sway as though hinged to him. He had no
+choice but to grasp her by the wrists, cast her
+aside, and step clear of her into the room.
+     Her hat, gauzily basking with a pair of long
+white gloves on one of his arm-chairs, proclaimed
+that she had come to stay.
+     Nor did she rise. Propped on one elbow, with
+heaving bosom and parted lips, she seemed to be
+trying to realise what had been done to her.
+Through her undried tears her eyes shone up to
+him.
+     He asked: "To what am I indebted for this
+visit?"
+     "Ah, say that again!" she murmured. "Your
+voice is music."
+     He repeated his question.
+
+247
+
+
+248      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+     "Music!" she said dreamily; and such is the
+force of habit that "I don't," she added, "know
+anything about music, really. But I know what
+I like."
+     "Had you not better get up from the floor?"
+he said. "The door is open, and any one who
+passed might see you."
+     Softly she stroked the carpet with the palms
+of her hands. "Happy carpet!" she crooned.
+"Aye, happy the very women that wove the
+threads that are trod by the feet of my beloved
+master. But hark! he bids his slave rise and
+stand before him!"
+     Just after she had risen, a figure appeared in
+the doorway.
+     "I beg pardon, your Grace; Mother wants to
+know, will you be lunching in?"
+     "Yes," said the Duke. "I will ring when I am
+ready." And it dawned on him that this girl, who
+perhaps loved him, was, according to all known
+standards, extraordinarily pretty.
+     "Will --" she hesitated, "will Miss Dobson
+be --"
+     "No," he said. "I shall be alone." And there
+was in the girl's parting half-glance at Zuleika
+that which told him he was truly loved, and made
+him the more impatient of his offensive and ac-
+cursed visitor.
+     "You want to be rid of me?" asked Zuleika,
+when the girl was gone.
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      249
+
+     "I have no wish to be rude; but -- since you
+force me to say it -- yes."
+     "Then take me," she cried, throwing back her
+arms, "and throw me out of the window."
+     He smiled coldly.
+     "You think I don't mean it? You think I would
+struggle? Try me." She let herself droop side-
+ways, in an attitude limp and portable. "Try
+me," she repeated.
+     "All this is very well conceived, no doubt,"
+said he, "and well executed. But it happens to
+he otiose."
+     What do you mean?"
+     "I mean you may set your mind at rest. I am
+not going to back out of my promise."
+     Zuleika flushed. "You are cruel. I would give
+the world and all not to have written you that
+hateful letter. Forget it, forget it, for pity's sake!"
+     The Duke looked searchingly at her. "You
+mean that you now wish to release me from my
+promise?"
+     "Release you? As if you were ever bound!
+Don't torture me!"
+     He wondered what deep game she was playing.
+Very real, though, her anguish seemed; and, if
+real it was, then -- he stared, he gasped -- there
+could be but one explanation. He put it to her.
+"You love me?"
+     "With all my soul."
+     His heart leapt. If she spoke truth, then in-
+
+
+250      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+deed vengeance was his! But "What proof have
+I?" he asked her.
+     "Proof? Have men absolutely <i>no</i> intuition?
+If you need proof, produce it. Where are my
+ear-rings?"
+     "Your ear-rings? Why?"
+     Impatiently she pointed to two white pearls
+that fastened the front of her blouse. "These
+are your studs. It was from them I had the great
+first hint this morning."
+     "Black and pink, were they not, when you took
+them?"
+     "Of course. And then I forgot that I had
+them. When I undressed, they must have rolled
+on to the carpet. M&eacute;lisande found them this
+morning when she was making the room ready
+for me to dress. That was just after she came
+back from bringing you my first letter. I was
+bewildered. I doubted. Might not the pearls
+have gone back to their natural state simply
+through being yours no more? That is why I
+wrote again to you, my own darling -- a frantic
+little questioning letter. When I heard how you
+had torn it up, I knew, I knew that the pearls had
+not mocked me. I telescoped my toilet and came
+rushing round to you. How many hours have
+I been waiting for you?"
+     The Duke had drawn her ear-rings from his
+waistcoat pocket, and was contemplating them in
+the palm of his hand. Blanched, both of them,
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      251
+
+yes. He laid them on the table. "Take them,"
+he said.
+     "No," she shuddered. "I could never forget
+that once they were both black." She flung them
+into the fender. "Oh John," she cried, turning
+to him and falling again to her knees, "I do so
+want to forget what I have been. I want to atone.
+You think you can drive me out of your life. You
+cannot, darling -- since you won't kill me. Always
+I shall follow you on my knees, thus."
+     He looked down at her over his folded arms,
+     "I am not going to back out of my promise," he
+repeated.
+     She stopped her ears.
+     With a stern joy he unfolded his arms, took
+some papers from his breast-pocket, and, selecting
+one of them, handed it to her. It was the telegram
+sent by his steward.
+     She read it. With a stern joy he watched her
+reading it.
+     Wild-eyed, she looked up from it to him, tried
+to speak, and swerved down senseless.
+     He had not foreseen this. "Help!" he vaguely
+cried -- was she not a fellow-creature? -- and
+rushed blindly out to his bedroom, whence he
+returned, a moment later, with the water-jug. He
+dipped his hand, and sprinkled the upturned face
+(Dew-drops on a white rose? But some other,
+sharper analogy hovered to him). He dipped
+and sprinkled. The water-beads broke, mingled
+
+
+252      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+-- rivulets now. He dipped and flung, then caught
+the horrible analogy and rebounded.
+     It was at this moment that Zuleika opened her
+eyes. "Where am I?" She weakly raised her-
+self on one elbow; and the suspension of the
+Duke's hatred would have been repealed simul-
+taneously with that of her consciousness, had it
+not already been repealed by the analogy. She
+put a hand to her face, then looked at the wet
+palm wonderingly, looked at the Duke, saw the
+water-jug beside him. She, too, it seemed, had
+caught the analogy; for with a wan smile she said
+"We are quits now, John, aren't we?"
+     Her poor little jest drew to the Duke's face no
+answering smile, did but make hotter the blush
+there. The wave of her returning memory swept
+on -- swept up to her with a roar the instant past.
+"Oh," she cried, staggering to her feet, "the owls,
+the owls!"
+     Vengeance was his, and "Yes, there," he said,
+"is the ineluctable hard fact you wake to. The
+owls have hooted. The gods have spoken. This
+day your wish is to be fulfilled."
+     "The owls have hooted. The gods have
+spoken. This day -- oh, it must not be, John!
+Heaven have mercy on me!"
+     "The unerring owls have hooted. The dis-
+piteous and humorous gods have spoken. Miss
+Dobson, it has to be. And let me remind you,"
+he added, with a glance at his watch, "that you
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      253
+
+ought not to keep The MacQuern waiting for
+luncheon."
+     "That is unworthy of you," she said. There
+was in her eyes a look that made the words sound
+as if they had been spoken by a dumb animal.
+     "You have sent him an excuse?"
+     "No, I have forgotten him."
+     "That is unworthy of you. After all, he is
+going to die for you, like the rest of us. I am but
+one of a number, you know. Use your sense of
+proportion."
+     "If I do that," she said after a pause, "you
+may not be pleased by the issue. I may find that
+whereas yesterday I was great in my sinfulness,
+and to-day am great in my love, you, in your hate
+of me, are small. I may find that what I had
+taken to be a great indifference is nothing but a
+very small hate. . . Ah, I have wounded you?
+Forgive me, a weak woman, talking at random in
+her wretchedness. Oh John, John, if I thought
+you small, my love would but take on the crown
+of pity. Don't forbid me to call you John. I
+looked you up in Debrett while I was waiting for
+you. That seemed to bring you nearer to me. So
+many other names you have, too. I remember
+you told me them all yesterday, here in this room
+-- not twenty-four hours ago. Hours? Years!"
+She laughed hysterically. "John, don't you see
+why I won't stop talking? It's because I dare
+not think."
+
+
+254      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+     "Yonder in Balliol," he suavely said, "you will
+find the matter of my death easier to forget than
+here." He took her hat and gloves from the
+arm-chair, and held them carefully out to her;
+but she did not take them.
+     "I give you three minutes," he told her. "Two
+minutes, that is, in which to make yourself tidy
+before the mirror. A third in which to say good-
+bye and be outside the front-door."
+     "If I refuse?"
+     "You will not."
+     "If I do?"
+     "I shall send for a policeman."
+     She looked well at him. "Yes," she slowly
+said, "I think you would do that."
+     She took her things from him, and laid them
+by the mirror. With a high hand she quelled the
+excesses of her hair -- some of the curls still
+agleam with water -- and knowingly poised and
+pinned her hat. Then, after a few swift touches
+and passes at neck and waist, she took her gloves
+and, wheeling round to him, "There!" she said,
+"I have been quick."
+     "Admirably," he allowed.
+     "Quick in more than meets the eye, John.
+Spiritually quick. You saw me putting on my
+hat; you did not see love taking on the crown of
+pity, and me bonneting her with it, tripping her
+up and trampling the life out of her. Oh, a most
+cold-blooded business, John! Had to be done,
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      255
+
+though. No other way out. So I just used my
+sense of proportion, as you rashly bade me, and
+then hardened my heart at sight of you as you
+are. One of a number? Yes, and a quite un-
+lovable unit. So I am all right again. And now,
+where is Balliol? Far from here?"
+     "No," he answered, choking a little, as might
+a card-player who, having been dealt a splendid
+hand, and having played it with flawless skill, has
+yet -- damn it! -- lost the odd trick. "Balliol is
+quite near. At the end of this street in fact. I
+can show it to you from the front-door."
+     Yes, he had controlled himself. But this, he
+furiously felt, did not make him look the less a
+fool. What ought he to have <i>said?</i> He prayed,
+as he followed the victorious young woman down-
+stairs, that <i>l'esprit de l'escalier</i> might befall him.
+Alas, it did not.
+     "By the way," she said, when he had shown
+her where Balliol lay, "have you told anybody
+that you aren't dying just for me?"
+     "No," he answered, "I have preferred not to."
+     "Then officially, as it were, and in the eyes of
+the world, you die for me? Then all's well that
+ends well. Shall we say good-bye here? I shall
+be on the Judas Barge; but I suppose there will
+be a crush, as yesterday?"
+     "Sure to be. There always is on the last night
+of the Eights, you know. Good-bye."
+     "Good-bye, little John -- small John," she cried
+across her shoulder, having the last word.
+
+
+XVII
+
+HE might not have grudged her the last word,
+had she properly needed it. Its utter superfluity --
+the perfection of her victory without it -- was
+what galled him. Yes, she had outflanked him,
+taken him unawares, and he had fired not one
+shot. <i>Esprit de l'escalier</i> -- it was as he went up-
+stairs that he saw how he might yet have snatched
+from her, if not the victory, the palm. Of course
+he ought to have laughed aloud -- "Capital,
+capital! You really do deserve to fool me. But
+ah, yours is a love that can't be dissembled.
+Never was man by maiden loved more ardently
+than I by you, my poor girl, at this moment."
+     And stay! -- what if she really <i>had</i> been but
+pretending to have killed her love? He paused
+on the threshold of his room. The sudden doubt
+made his lost chance the more sickening. Yet
+was the doubt dear to him . . . What likelier,
+after all, than that she had been pretending? She
+had already twitted him with his lack of intuition.
+He had not seen that she loved him when she
+certainly did love him. He had needed the pearls'
+demonstration of that. -- The pearls!  <i>They</i>
+would betray her. He darted to the fender, and
+
+256
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      257
+
+one of them he espied there instantly -- white?
+A rather flushed white, certainly. For the other
+he had to peer down. There it lay, not very dis-
+tinct on the hearth's black-leading.
+     He turned away. He blamed himself for not
+dismissing from his mind the hussy he had dis-
+missed from his room. Oh for an ounce of civet
+and a few poppies! The water-jug stood as a
+reminder of the hateful visit and of . . . He
+took it hastily away into his bedroom. There he
+washed his hands. The fact that he had touched
+Zuleika gave to this ablution a symbolism that
+made it the more refreshing.
+     Civet, poppies? Was there not, at his call, a
+sweeter perfume, a stronger anodyne? He rang
+the bell, almost caressingly.
+     His heart beat at sound of the clinking and
+rattling of the tray borne up the stairs. She was
+coming, the girl who loved him, the girl whose
+heart would be broken when he died. Yet, when
+the tray appeared in the doorway, and she behind
+it, the tray took precedence of her in his soul not
+less than in his sight. Twice, after an arduous
+morning, had his luncheon been postponed, and
+the coming of it now made intolerable the pangs
+of his hunger.
+     Also, while the girl laid the table-cloth, it oc-
+curred to him how flimsy, after all, was the evi-
+dence that she loved him. Suppose she did noth-
+ing of the kind! At the Junta, he had foreseen
+
+
+258      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+no difficulty in asking her. Now he found himself
+a prey to embarrassment. He wondered why.
+He had not failed in flow of gracious words to
+Nellie O'Mora. Well, a miniature by Hoppner
+was one thing, a landlady's live daughter was
+another. At any rate, he must prime himself
+with food. He wished Mrs. Batch had sent up
+something more calorific than cold salmon. He
+asked her daughter what was to follow.
+     "There's a pigeon-pie, your Grace."
+     "Cold? Then please ask your mother to heat
+it in the oven -- quickly. Anything after that?"
+     "A custard pudding, your Grace."
+     "Cold? Let this, too, be heated. And bring
+up a bottle of champagne, please; and -- and a
+bottle of port."
+     His was a head that had always hitherto defied
+the grape. But he thought that to-day, by all he
+had gone through, by all the shocks he had suf-
+fered, and the strains he had steeled himself
+to bear, as well as by the actual malady that
+gripped him, he might perchance have been sapped
+enough to experience by reaction that cordial glow
+of which he had now and again seen symptoms in
+his fellows.
+     Nor was he altogether disappointed of this
+hope. As the meal progressed, and the last of
+the champagne sparkled in his glass, certain things
+said to him by Zuleika -- certain implied criticisms
+that had rankled, yes -- lost their power to dis-
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      259
+
+commode him. He was able to smile at the im-
+pertinences of an angry woman, the tantrums of
+a tenth-rate conjurer told to go away. He felt
+he had perhaps acted harshly. With all her
+faults, she had adored him. Yes, he had been
+arbitrary. There seemed to be a strain of bru-
+tality in his nature. Poor Zuleika! He was glad
+for her that she had contrived to master her in-
+fatuation . . . Enough for him that he was loved
+by this exquisite meek girl who had served him
+at the feast. Anon, when he summoned her to
+clear the things away, he would bid her tell him
+the tale of her lowly passion. He poured a second
+glass of port, sipped it, quaffed it, poured a third.
+The grey gloom of the weather did but, as he
+eyed the bottle, heighten his sense of the rich sun-
+shine so long ago imprisoned by the vintner and
+now released to make glad his soul. Even so to
+be released was the love pent for him in the heart
+of this sweet girl. Would that he loved her in
+return! . . . Why not?
+
+                  "Prius insolentem
+          Serva Briseis niveo colore
+               Movit Achillem."
+
+Nor were it gracious to invite an avowal of love
+and offer none in return. Yet, yet, expansive
+though his mood was, he could not pretend to
+himself that he was about to feel in this girl's
+presence anything but gratitude. He might pre-
+
+
+260      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+tend to her? Deception were a very poor return
+indeed for all her kindness. Besides, it might
+turn her head. Some small token of his gratitude
+-- some trinket by which to remember him -- was
+all that he could allow himself to offer . . .
+What trinket? Would she like to have one of his
+scarf-pins? Studs? Still more abs -- Ah! he
+had it, he literally and most providentially had it,
+there, in the fender: a pair of ear-rings!
+     He plucked the pink pearl and the black from
+where they lay, and rang the bell.
+     His sense of dramatic propriety needed that
+the girl should, before he addressed her, perform
+her task of clearing the table. If she had it to
+perform after telling her love, and after receiving
+his gift and his farewell, the bathos would be
+distressing for them both.
+     But, while he watched her at her task, he did
+wish she would be a little quicker. For the glow
+in him seemed to be cooling momently. He wished
+he had had more than three glasses from the
+crusted bottle which she was putting away into
+the chiffonier. Down, doubt! Down, sense of
+disparity! The moment was at hand. Would he
+let it slip? Now she was folding up the table-
+cloth, now she was going.
+     "Stay!" he uttered. "I have something to say
+to you." The girl turned to him.
+     He forced his eyes to meet hers. "I under-
+stand," he said in a constrained voice, "that you
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      261
+
+regard me with sentiments of something more
+than esteem. -- Is this so?"
+     The girl had stepped quickly back, and her
+face was scarlet.
+     "Nay," he said, having to go through with it
+now, "there is no cause for embarrassment. And
+I am sure you will acquit me of wanton curiosity.
+Is it a fact that you -- love me?"
+     She tried to speak, could not. But she nodded
+her head.
+     The Duke, much relieved, came nearer to her.
+     "What is your name?" he asked gently.
+     "Katie," she was able to gasp.
+     "Well, Katie, how long have you loved me?"
+     "Ever since," she faltered, "ever since you came
+to engage the rooms."
+     "You are not, of course, given to idolising any
+tenant of your mother's?"
+     "No."
+     "May I boast myself the first possessor of your
+heart?"
+     "Yes." She had become very pale now, and
+was trembling painfully.
+     "And may I assume that your love for me has
+been entirely disinterested? . . . You do not
+catch my meaning? I will put my question in an-
+other way. In loving me, you never supposed me
+likely to return your love?"
+     The girl looked up at him quickly, but at once
+her eyelids fluttered down again.
+
+
+262      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+     "Come, come!" said the Duke. "My question
+is a plain one. Did you ever for an instant sup-
+pose, Katie, that I might come to love you?"
+     "No," she said in a whisper; "I never dared
+to hope that."
+     "Precisely," said he. "You never imagined
+that you had anything to gain by your affection.
+You were not contriving a trap for me. You were
+upheld by no hope of becoming a young Duchess,
+with more frocks than you could wear and more
+dross than you could scatter. I am glad. I am
+touched. You are the first woman that has loved
+me in that way. Or rather," he muttered, "the
+first but one. And she . . . Answer me," he
+said, standing over the girl, and speaking with a
+great intensity. "If I were to tell you that I loved
+you, would you cease to love me?"
+     "Oh your Grace!" cried the girl. "Why no!
+I never dared --"
+     "Enough!" he said. "The catechism is ended.
+I have something which I should like to give you.
+Are your ears pierced?"
+     "Yes, your Grace."
+     "Then, Katie, honour me by accepting this
+present." So saying, he placed in the girl's hand
+the black pearl and the pink. The sight of them
+banished for a moment all other emotions in their
+recipient. She forgot herself. "Lor!" she said.
+     "I hope you will wear them always for my
+sake," said the Duke.
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      263
+
+     She had expressed herself in the monosyllable.
+No words came to her lips, but to her eyes many
+tears, through which the pearls were visible.
+They whirled in her bewildered brain as a token
+that she was loved -- loved by <i>him</i>, though but
+yesterday he had loved another. It was all so sud-
+den, so beautiful. You might have knocked her
+down (she says so to this day) with a feather.
+Seeing her agitation, the Duke pointed to a chair,
+bade her be seated.
+     Her mind was cleared by the new posture.
+Suspicion crept into it, followed by alarm. She
+looked at the ear-rings, then up at the Duke.
+     "No," said he, misinterpreting the question in
+her eyes, "they are real pearls."
+     "It isn't that," she quavered, "it is -- it is --"
+     "That they were given to me by Miss Dob-
+son?"
+     "Oh, they were, were they? Then" -- Katie
+rose, throwing the pearls on the floor -- "I'll have
+nothing to do with them. I hate her."
+     "So do I," said the Duke, in a burst of confi-
+dence. "No, I don't," he added hastily. "Please
+forget that I said that."
+     It occurred to Katie that Miss Dobson would
+be ill-pleased that the pearls should pass to her.
+She picked them up.
+     "Only -- only --" again her doubts beset her
+and she looked from the pearls to the Duke.
+     "Speak on," he said.
+
+
+264      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+     "Oh you aren't playing with me, are you? You
+don't mean me harm, do you? I have been
+well brought up. I have been warned against
+things. And it seems so strange, what you have
+said to me. You are a Duke, and I -- I am
+only --"
+     "It is the privilege of nobility to condescend."
+     "Yes, yes," she cried. "I see. Oh I was
+wicked to doubt you. And love levels all, doesn't
+it? love and the Board school. Our stations are
+far apart, but I've been educated far above mine.
+I've learnt more than most real ladies have. I
+passed the Seventh Standard when I was only
+just fourteen. I was considered one of the sharp-
+est girls in the school. And I've gone on learning
+since then," she continued eagerly. "I utilise all
+my spare moments. I've read twenty-seven of the
+Hundred Best Books. I collect ferns. I play the
+piano, whenever . . ." She broke off, for she
+remembered that her music was always inter-
+rupted by the ringing of the Duke's bell and a
+polite request that it should cease.
+     "I am glad to hear of these accomplishments.
+They do you great credit, I am sure. But -- well,
+I do not quite see why you enumerate them just
+now."
+     "It isn't that I am vain," she pleaded. "I only
+mentioned them because . . . oh, don't you see?
+If I'm not ignorant, I shan't disgrace you. People
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      265
+
+won't be so able to say you've been and thrown
+yourself away."
+     "Thrown myself away? What do you mean?"
+     "Oh, they'll make all sorts of objections, I
+know. They'll all be against me, and --"
+     "For heaven's sake, explain yourself."
+     "Your aunt, she looked a very proud lady --
+very high and hard. I thought so when she came
+here last term. But you're of age. You're your
+own master. Oh, I trust you; you'll stand by me.
+If you love me really you won't listen to them."
+     "Love you? I? Are you mad?"
+     Each stared at the other, utterly bewildered.
+     The girl was the first to break the silence. Her
+voice came in a whisper. "You've not been play-
+ing a joke on me? You meant what you said,
+didn't you?"
+     "What have I said?"
+     "You said you loved me."
+     "You must be dreaming."
+     "I'm not. Here are the ear-rings you gave
+me." She pinched them as material proof. "You
+said you loved me just before you gave me them.
+You know you did. And if I thought you'd been
+laughing at me all the time -- I'd -- I'd" -- a sob
+choked her voice -- "I'd throw them in your face!"
+     "You must not speak to me in that manner,"
+said the Duke coldly. "And let me warn you
+that this attempt to trap me and intimidate
+me --"
+
+
+266      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+     The girl had flung the ear-rings at his face.
+She had missed her mark. But this did not ex-
+tenuate the outrageous gesture. He pointed to
+the door. "Go!" he said.
+     "Don't try that on!" she laughed. "I shan't
+go -- not unless you drag me out. And if you do
+that, I'll raise the house. I'll have in the neigh-
+bours. I'll tell them all what you've done, and --"
+But defiance melted in the hot shame of humilia-
+tion. "Oh, you coward!" she gasped. "You
+coward!" She caught her apron to her face and,
+swaying against the wall, sobbed piteously.
+     Unaccustomed to love-affairs, the Duke could
+not sail lightly over a flood of woman's tears. He
+was filled with pity for the poor quivering figure
+against the wall. How should he soothe her?
+Mechanically he picked up the two pearls from
+the carpet, and crossed to her side. He touched
+her on the shoulder. She shuddered away from
+him.
+     "Don't," he said gently. "Don't cry. I can't
+bear it. I have been stupid and thoughtless.
+What did you say your name was? 'Katie,' to be
+sure. Well, Katie, I want to beg your pardon.
+I expressed myself badly. I was unhappy and
+lonely, and I saw in you a means of comfort. I
+snatched at you, Katie, as at a straw. And then,
+I suppose, I must have said something which made
+you think I loved you. I almost wish I did. I
+don't wonder you threw the ear-rings at me. I --
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      267
+
+I almost wish they had hit me. . . You see,
+I have quite forgiven you. Now do you forgive
+me. You will not refuse now to wear the ear-
+rings. I gave them to you as a keepsake. Wear
+them always in memory of me. For you will
+never see me again."
+     The girl had ceased from crying, and her anger
+had spent itself in sobs. She was gazing at him
+woebegone but composed.
+     "Where are you going?"
+     "You must not ask that," said he. "Enough
+that my wings are spread."
+     "Are you going because of <i>me</i>?"
+     "Not in the least. Indeed, your devotion is
+one of the things which make bitter my departure.
+And yet -- I am glad you love me."
+     "Don't go," she faltered. He came nearer to
+her, and this time she did not shrink from him.
+"Don't you find the rooms comfortable?" she
+asked, gazing up at him. "Have you ever had
+any complaint to make about the attendance?"
+     "No," said the Duke, "the attendance has al-
+ways been quite satisfactory. I have never felt
+that so keenly as I do to-day."
+     "Then why are you leaving? Why are you
+breaking my heart?"
+     "Suffice it that I cannot do otherwise. Hence-
+forth you will see me no more. But I doubt not
+that in the cultivation of my memory you will
+find some sort of lugubrious satisfaction. See!
+
+
+268      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+here are the ear-rings. If you like, I will put them
+in with my own hands."
+     She held up her face side-ways. Into the lobe
+of her left ear he insinuated the hook of the black
+pearl. On the cheek upturned to him there were
+still traces of tears; the eyelashes were still
+spangled. For all her blondness, they were quite
+dark, these glistening eyelashes. He had an im-
+pulse, which he put from him. "Now the other
+ear," he said. The girl turned her head. Soon
+the pink pearl was in its place. Yet the girl did
+not move. She seemed to be waiting. Nor did
+the Duke himself seem to be quite satisfied. He
+let his fingers dally with the pearl. Anon, with a
+sigh, he withdrew them. The girl looked up.
+Their eyes met. He looked away from her. He
+turned away from her. "You may kiss my hand,"
+he murmured, extending it towards her. After a
+pause, the warm pressure of her lips was laid on
+it. He sighed, but did not look round. Another
+pause, a longer pause, and then the clatter and
+clink of the outgoing tray.
+
+
+XVIII
+
+HER actual offspring does not suffice a very
+motherly woman. Such a woman was Mrs.
+Batch. Had she been blest with a dozen children,
+she must yet have regarded herself as also a
+mother to whatever two young gentlemen were
+lodging under her roof. Childless but for Katie
+and Clarence, she had for her successive pairs of
+tenants a truly vast fund of maternal feeling to
+draw on. Nor were the drafts made in secret.
+To every gentleman, from the outset, she pro-
+claimed the relation in which she would stand to
+him. Moreover, always she needed a strong filial
+sense in return: this was only fair.
+     Because the Duke was an orphan, even more
+than because he was a Duke, her heart had with
+a special rush gone out to him when he and
+Mr. Noaks became her tenants. But, perhaps
+because he had never known a mother, he was
+evidently quite incapable of conceiving either
+Mrs. Batch as his mother or himself as her son.
+Indeed, there was that in his manner, in his look,
+which made her falter, for once, in exposition of
+her theory -- made her postpone the matter to
+
+269
+
+
+270      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+some more favourable time. That time never
+came, somehow. Still, her solicitude for him, her
+pride in him, her sense that he was a great credit
+to her, rather waxed than waned. He was more
+to her (such are the vagaries of the maternal in-
+stinct) than Katie or Mr. Noaks: he was as much
+as Clarence.
+     It was, therefore, a deeply agitated woman who
+now came heaving up into the Duke's presence.
+His Grace was "giving notice"? She was sure
+she begged his pardon for coming up so sudden.
+But the news was that sudden. Hadn't her girl
+made a mistake, maybe? Girls were so vague-
+like nowadays. She was sure it was most kind
+of him to give those handsome ear-rings. But
+the thought of him going off so unexpected --
+middle of term, too -- with never a why or a but!
+Well!
+     In some such welter of homely phrase (how
+foreign to these classic pages!) did Mrs. Batch
+utter her pain. The Duke answered her tersely
+but kindly. He apologised for going so abruptly,
+and said he would be very happy to write for her
+future use a testimonial to the excellence of her
+rooms and of her cooking; and with it he would
+give her a cheque not only for the full term's
+rent, and for his board since the beginning of
+term, but also for such board as he would have
+been likely to have in the term's remainder. He
+asked her to present her accounts forthwith.
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      271
+
+     He occupied the few minutes of her absence
+by writing the testimonial. It had shaped itself
+in his mind as a short ode in Doric Greek. But,
+for the benefit of Mrs. Batch, he chose to do a
+rough equivalent in English.
+
+TO AN UNDERGRADUATE NEEDING
+ROOMS IN OXFORD
+
+<i>(A Sonnet in Oxfordshire Dialect)</i>
+
+     Zeek w'ere thee will in t'Univ&uuml;rsity,
+     Lad, thee'll not vind n&ocirc;r bread n&ocirc;r bed that
+          matches
+     Them as thee'll vind, roight z&uuml;re, at Mrs.
+          Batch's . . .
+
+I do not quote the poem <i>in extenso</i>, because,
+frankly, I think it was one of his least happily-
+inspired works. His was not a Muse that could
+with a good grace doff the grand manner. Also,
+his command of the Oxfordshire dialect seems to
+me based less on study than on conjecture. In
+fact, I do not place the poem higher than among
+the curiosities of literature. It has extrinsic value,
+however, as illustrating the Duke's thoughtful-
+ness for others in the last hours of his life. And
+to Mrs. Batch the MS., framed and glazed in her
+hall, is an asset beyond price (witness her recent
+refusal of Mr. Pierpont Morgan's sensational
+bid for it).
+
+
+272      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+     This MS. she received together with the Duke's
+cheque. The presentation was made some twenty
+minutes after she had laid her accounts before
+him.
+     Lavish in giving large sums of his own accord,
+he was apt to be circumspect in the matter of
+small payments. Such is ever the way of opulent
+men. Nor do I see that we have a right to sneer
+at them for it. We cannot deny that their exist-
+ence is a temptation to us. It is in our fallen na-
+ture to want to get something out of them; and,
+as we think in small sums (heaven knows), it is
+of small sums that they are careful. Absurd to
+suppose they really care about halfpence. It
+must, therefore, be about us that they care; and
+we ought to be grateful to them for the pains they
+are at to keep us guiltless. I do not suggest
+that Mrs. Batch had at any point overcharged
+the Duke; but how was he to know that she had
+not done so, except by checking the items, as was
+his wont? The reductions that he made, here and
+there, did not in all amount to three-and-sixpence.
+I do not say they were just. But I do say that his
+motive for making them, and his satisfaction at
+having made them, were rather beautiful than
+otherwise.
+     Having struck an average of Mrs. Batch's
+weekly charges, and a similar average of his own
+reductions, he had a basis on which to reckon his
+board for the rest of the term. This amount he
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      273
+
+added to Mrs. Batch's amended total, <i>plus</i> the
+full term's rent, and accordingly drew a cheque
+on the local bank where he had an account. Mrs.
+Batch said she would bring up a stamped receipt
+directly; but this the Duke waived, saying that
+the cashed cheque itself would be a sufficient re-
+ceipt. Accordingly, he reduced by one penny the
+amount written on the cheque. Remembering to
+initial the correction, he remembered also, with
+a melancholy smile, that to-morrow the cheque
+would not be negotiable. Handing it, and the
+sonnet, to Mrs. Batch, he bade her cash it before
+the bank closed. "And," he said, "with a glance
+at his watch, "you have no time to lose. It is
+a quarter to four." Only two hours and a quar-
+ter before the final races! How quickly the
+sands were running out!
+     Mrs. Batch paused on the threshold, wanted to
+know if she could "help with the packing." The
+Duke replied that he was taking nothing with him:
+his various things would be sent for, packed, and
+removed, within a few days. No, he did not want
+her to order a cab. He was going to walk. And
+"Good-bye, Mrs. Batch," he said. "For legal
+reasons with which I won't burden you, you really
+must cash that cheque at once."
+     He sat down in solitude; and there crept over
+him a mood of deep depression . . . Almost two
+hours and a quarter before the final races! What
+on earth should he do in the meantime? He
+
+
+274      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+seemed to have done all that there was for him
+to do. His executors would do the rest. He had
+no farewell-letters to write. He had no friends
+with whom he was on terms of valediction. There
+was nothing at all for him to do. He stared
+blankly out of the window, at the greyness and
+blackness of the sky. What a day! What a cli-
+mate! Why did any sane person live in England?
+He felt positively suicidal.
+     His dully vagrant eye lighted on the bottle of
+Cold Mixture. He ought to have dosed himself a
+full hour ago. Well, he didn't care.
+     Had Zuleika noticed the bottle? he idly won-
+dered. Probably not. She would have made
+some sprightly reference to it before she went.
+     Since there was nothing to do but sit and think,
+he wished he could recapture that mood in which
+at luncheon he had been able to see Zuleika as
+an object for pity. Never, till to-day, had he seen
+things otherwise than they were. Nor had he ever
+needed to. Never, till last night, had there been
+in his life anything he needed to forget. That
+woman! As if it really mattered what she
+thought of him. He despised himself for wishing
+to forget she despised him. But the wish was the
+measure of the need. He eyed the chiffonier.
+Should he again solicit the grape?
+     Reluctantly he uncorked the crusted bottle, and
+filled a glass. Was he come to this? He sighed
+and sipped, quaffed and sighed. The spell of the
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      275
+
+old stored sunshine seemed not to work, this time.
+He could not cease from plucking at the net of
+ignominies in which his soul lay enmeshed. Would
+that he had died yesterday, escaping how much!
+     Not for an instant did he flinch from the mere
+fact of dying to-day. Since he was not immortal,
+as he had supposed, it were as well he should
+die now as fifty years hence. Better, indeed. To
+die "untimely," as men called it, was the timeliest
+of all deaths for one who had carved his youth to
+greatness. What perfection could he, Dorset,
+achieve beyond what was already his? Future
+years could but stale, if not actually mar, that
+perfection. Yes, it was lucky to perish leaving
+much to the imagination of posterity. Dear
+posterity was of a sentimental, not a realistic,
+habit. She always imagined the dead young hero
+prancing gloriously up to the Psalmist's limit a
+young hero still; and it was the sense of her vast
+loss that kept his memory green. Byron! -- he
+would be all forgotten to-day if he had lived to
+be a florid old gentleman with iron-grey whiskers,
+writing very long, very able letters to "The
+Times" about the Repeal of the Corn Laws. Yes,
+Byron would have been that. It was indicated in
+him. He would have been an old gentleman
+exacerbated by Queen Victoria's invincible preju-
+dice against him, her brusque refusal to "enter-
+tain" Lord John Russell's timid nomination of
+him for a post in the Government . . . Shelley
+
+
+276      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+would have been a poet to the last. But how dull,
+how very dull, would have been the poetry of his
+middle age! -- a great unreadable mass interposed
+between him and us . . . Did Byron, mused the
+Duke, know what was to be at Missolonghi?
+Did he know that he was to die in service of the
+Greeks whom he despised? Byron might not have
+minded that. But what if the Greeks had told
+him, in so many words, that they despised <i>him</i>?
+How would he have felt then? Would he have
+been content with his potations of barley-water?
+. . . The Duke replenished his glass, hoping the
+spell might work yet.. . . Perhaps, had Byron not
+been a dandy -- but ah, had he not been in his soul
+a dandy there would have been no Byron worth
+mentioning. And it was because he guarded not
+his dandyism against this and that irrelevant pas-
+sion, sexual or political, that he cut so annoyingly
+incomplete a figure. He was absurd in his poli-
+tics, vulgar in his loves. Only in himself, at the
+times when he stood haughtily aloof, was he im-
+pressive. Nature, fashioning him, had fashioned
+also a pedestal for him to stand and brood on, to
+pose and sing on. Off that pedestal he was lost.
+. . . "The idol has come sliding down from its
+pedestal" -- the Duke remembered these words
+spoken yesterday by Zuleika. Yes, at the mo-
+ment when he slid down, he, too, was lost. For
+him, master-dandy, the common arena was no
+place. What had he to do with love? He was
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      277
+
+an utter fool at it. Byron had at least had some
+fun out of it. What fun had <i>he</i> had? Last night,
+he had forgotten to kiss Zuleika when he held her
+by the wrists. To-day it had been as much as
+he could do to let poor little Katie kiss his hand.
+Better be vulgar with Byron than a noodle with
+Dorset! he bitterly reflected. . . Still, noodledom
+was nearer than vulgarity to dandyism. It was
+a less flagrant lapse. And he had over Byron this
+further advantage: his noodledom was not a mat-
+ter of common knowledge; whereas Byron's vul-
+garity had ever needed to be in the glare of the
+footlights of Europe. The world would say of
+him that he laid down his life for a woman. De-
+plorable somersault? But nothing evident save
+this in his whole life was faulty. . . The one other
+thing that might be carped at -- the partisan
+speech he made in the Lords -- had exquisitely
+justified itself by its result. For it was as a Knight
+of the Garter that he had set the perfect seal on
+his dandyism. Yes, he reflected, it was on the
+day when first he donned the most grandiose of
+all costumes, and wore it grandlier than ever yet
+in history had it been worn, than ever would it
+be worn hereafter, flaunting the robes with a
+grace unparalleled and inimitable, and lending,
+as it were, to the very insignia a glory beyond
+their own, that he once and for all fulfilled him-
+self, doer of that which he had been sent into the
+world to do.
+
+
+278      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+     And there floated into his mind a desire, vague
+at first, soon definite, imperious, irresistible, to
+see himself once more, before he died, indued in
+the fulness of his glory and his might.
+     Nothing hindered. There was yet a whole hour
+before he need start for the river. His eyes
+dilated, somewhat as might those of a child about
+to "dress up" for a charade; and already, in his
+impatience, he had undone his neck-tie.
+     One after another, he unlocked and threw open
+the black tin boxes, snatching out greedily their
+great good splendours of crimson and white and
+royal blue and gold. You wonder he was not
+appalled by the task of essaying unaided a toilet
+so extensive and so intricate? You wondered even
+when you heard that he was wont at Oxford to
+make without help his toilet of every day. Well,
+the true dandy is always capable of such high
+independence. He is craftsman as well as artist.
+And, though any unaided Knight but he with
+whom we are here concerned would belike have
+doddered hopeless in that labyrinth of hooks and
+buckles which underlies the visible glory of a
+Knight "arraied full and proper," Dorset
+threaded his way featly and without pause. He
+had mastered his first excitement. In his swift-
+ness was no haste. His procedure had the ease
+and inevitability of a natural phenomenon, and
+was most like to the coming of a rainbow.
+Crimson-doubleted, blue-ribanded, white-trunk-
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      279
+
+hosed, he stooped to understrap his left knee with
+that strap of velvet round which sparkles the
+proud gay motto of the Order. He affixed to his
+breast the octoradiant star, so much larger and
+more lustrous than any actual star in heaven.
+Round his neck he slung that long daedal chain
+wherefrom St. George, slaying the Dragon, dan-
+gles. He bowed his shoulders to assume that
+vast mantle of blue velvet, so voluminous, so en-
+veloping, that, despite the Cross of St. George
+blazing on it, and the shoulder-knots like two
+great white tropical flowers planted on it, we
+seem to know from it in what manner of mantle
+Elijah prophesied. Across his breast he knotted
+this mantle's two cords of gleaming bullion, one
+tassel a due trifle higher than its fellow. All
+these things being done, he moved away from the
+mirror, and drew on a pair of white kid gloves.
+Both of these being buttoned, he plucked up cer-
+tain folds of his mantle into the hollow of his
+left arm, and with his right hand gave to his left
+hand that ostrich-plumed and heron-plumed hat
+of black velvet in which a Knight of the Garter
+is entitled to take his walks abroad. Then, with
+head erect, and measured tread, he returned to
+the mirror.
+     You are thinking, I know, of Mr. Sargent's
+famous portrait of him. Forget it. Tankerton
+Hall is open to the public on Wednesdays. Go
+there, and in the dining-hall stand to study well
+
+
+280      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+Sir Thomas Lawrence's portrait of the eleventh
+Duke. Imagine a man some twenty years younger
+than he whom you there behold, but having some
+such features and some such bearing, and clad in
+just such robes. Sublimate the dignity of that
+bearing and of those features, and you will then
+have seen the fourteenth Duke somewhat as he
+stood reflected in the mirror of his room. Resist
+your impulse to pass on to the painting which
+hangs next but two to Lawrence's. It deserves, I
+know, all that you said about it when (at the very
+time of the events in this chronicle) it was hang-
+ing in Burlington House. Marvellous, I grant
+you, are those passes of the swirling brush by
+which the velvet of the mantle is rendered --
+passes so light and seemingly so fortuitous, yet,
+seen at the right distance, so absolute in their
+power to create an illusion of the actual velvet.
+Sheen of white satin and silk, glint of gold, glitter
+of diamonds -- never were such things caught by
+surer hand obedient to more voracious eye. Yes,
+all the splendid surface of everything is there.
+Yet must you not look. The soul is not there.
+An expensive, very new costume is there, but no
+evocation of the high antique things it stands for;
+whereas by the Duke it was just these things that
+were evoked to make an aura round him, a warm
+symbolic glow sharpening the outlines of his own
+particular magnificence. Reflecting him, the mir-
+ror reflected, in due subordination, the history of
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      28l
+
+England. There is nothing of that on Mr. Sar-
+gent's canvas. Obtruded instead is the astounding
+slickness of Mr. Sargent's technique: not the sit-
+ter, but the painter, is master here. Nay, though
+I hate to say it, there is in the portrayal of the
+Duke's attitude and expression a hint of some-
+thing like mockery -- unintentional, I am sure, but
+to a sensitive eye discernible. And -- but it is
+clumsy of me to be reminding you of the very
+picture I would have you forget.
+     Long stood the Duke gazing, immobile. One
+thing alone ruffled his deep inward calm. This
+was the thought that he must presently put off
+from him all his splendour, and be his normal
+self.
+     The shadow passed from his brow. He would
+go forth as he was. He would be true to the
+motto he wore, and true to himself. A dandy he
+had lived. In the full pomp and radiance of his
+dandyism he would die.
+     His soul rose from calm to triumph. A smile
+lit his face, and he held his head higher than ever.
+He had brought nothing into this world and could
+take nothing out of it? Well, what he loved best
+he could carry with him to the very end; and in
+death they would not be divided.
+     The smile was still on his face as he passed out
+from his room. Down the stairs he passed, and
+"Oh," every stair creaked faintly, "I ought to
+have been marble!"
+
+
+282      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+     And it did indeed seem that Mrs. Batch and
+Katie, who had hurried out into the hall, were
+turned to some kind of stone at sight of the
+descending apparition. A moment ago, Mrs.
+Batch had been hoping she might yet at the last
+speak motherly words. A hopeless mute now!
+A moment ago, Katie's eyelids had been red with
+much weeping. Even from them the colour sud-
+denly ebbed now. Dead-white her face was be-
+tween the black pearl and the pink. "And this
+is the man of whom I dared once for an instant
+hope that he loved me!" -- it was thus that the
+Duke, quite correctly, interpreted her gaze.
+     To her and to her mother he gave an inclusive
+bow as he swept slowly by. Stone was the matron,
+and stone the maid.
+     Stone, too, the Emperors over the way; and
+the more poignantly thereby was the Duke a
+sight to anguish them, being the very incarnation
+of what themselves had erst been, or tried to be.
+But in this bitterness they did not forget their
+sorrow at his doom. They were in a mood to
+forgive him the one fault they had ever found in
+him -- his indifference to their Katie. And now --
+<i>o mirum mirorum</i> -- even this one fault was wiped
+out.
+     For, stung by memory of a gibe lately cast at
+him by himself, the Duke had paused and, impul-
+sively looking back into the hall, had beckoned
+Katie to him; and she had come (she knew not
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      283
+
+how) to him; and there, standing on the door-
+step whose whiteness was the symbol of her love,
+he -- very lightly, it is true, and on the upmost
+confines of the brow, but quite perceptibly -- had
+kissed her.
+
+
+XIX
+
+AND now he had passed under the little arch
+between the eighth and the ninth Emperor,
+rounded the Sheldonian, and been lost to sight of
+Katie, whom, as he was equally glad and sorry he
+had kissed her, he was able to dismiss from his
+mind.
+     In the quadrangle of the Old Schools he glanced
+round at the familiar labels, blue and gold, over
+the iron-studded doors, -- Schola Theologi&aelig; et
+Antiqu&aelig; Philosophi&aelig;; Museum Arundelianum;
+Schola Music&aelig;. And Bibliotheca Bodleiana -- he
+paused there, to feel for the last time the vague
+thrill he had always felt at sight of the small and
+devious portal that had lured to itself, and would
+always lure, so many scholars from the ends of
+the earth, scholars famous and scholars obscure,
+scholars polyglot and of the most diverse bents,
+but none of them not stirred in heart somewhat
+on the found threshold of the treasure-house.
+"How deep, how perfect, the effect made here
+by refusal to make any effect whatsoever!"
+thought the Duke. Perhaps, after all. . .but no:
+one could lay down no general rule. He flung
+his mantle a little wider from his breast, and pro-
+ceeded into Radcliffe Square.
+
+284
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      285
+
+     Another farewell look he gave to the old vast
+horse-chestnut that is called Bishop Heber's tree.
+Certainly, no: there was no general rule. With
+its towering and bulging masses of verdure tricked
+out all over in their annual finery of catkins,
+Bishop Heber's tree stood for the very type of
+ingenuous ostentation. And who should dare
+cavil? who not be gladdened? Yet awful, more
+than gladdening, was the effect that the tree made
+to-day. Strangely pale was the verdure against
+the black sky; and the multitudinous catkins had
+a look almost ghostly. The Duke remembered
+the legend that every one of these fair white
+spires of blossom is the spirit of some dead man
+who, having loved Oxford much and well, is suf-
+fered thus to revisit her, for a brief while, year
+by year. And it pleased him to doubt not that
+on one of the topmost branches, next Spring, his
+own spirit would be.
+     "Oh, look!" cried a young lady emerging with
+her brother and her aunt through the gate of
+Brasenose.
+     "For heaven's sake, Jessie, try to behave your-
+self," hissed her brother. "Aunt Mabel, for
+heaven's sake don't stare." He compelled the
+pair to walk on with him. "Jessie, if you look
+round over your shoulder. . . No, it is <i>not</i> the
+Vice-Chancellor. It's Dorset, of Judas -- the
+Duke of Dorset. . . Why on earth shouldn't he?
+. . .No, it isn't odd in the least. . . No, I'm <i>not</i>
+
+
+286      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+losing my temper. Only, don't call me your dear
+boy. . . No, we will <i>not</i> walk slowly so as to let
+him pass us. . . Jessie, if you look round. . ."
+     Poor fellow! However fond an undergraduate
+be of his womenfolk, at Oxford they keep him in
+a painful state of tension: at any moment they
+may somehow disgrace him. And if throughout
+the long day he shall have had the added strain
+of guarding them from the knowledge that he is
+about to commit suicide, a certain measure of
+irritability must be condoned.
+     Poor Jessie and Aunt Mabel! They were des-
+tined to remember that Harold had been "very
+peculiar" all day. They had arrived in the morn-
+ing, happy and eager despite the menace of the
+sky, and -- well, they were destined to reproach
+themselves for having felt that Harold was
+"really rather impossible." Oh, if he had only
+confided in them! They could have reasoned
+with him, saved him -- surely they could have saved
+him! When he told them that the "First Divi-
+sion" of the races was always very dull, and that
+they had much better let him go to it alone, --
+when he told them that it was always very rowdy,
+and that ladies were not supposed to be there --
+oh, why had they not guessed and clung to him,
+and kept him away from the river?
+     Well, here they were, walking on Harold's
+either side, blind to fate, and only longing to look
+back at the gorgeous personage behind them.
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      287
+
+Aunt Mabel had inwardly calculated that the vel-
+vet of the mantle alone could not have cost less
+than four guineas a yard. One good look back,
+and she would be able to calculate how many
+yards there were. . . She followed the example of
+Lot's wife; and Jessie followed hers.
+     "Very well," said Harold. "That settles it.
+I go alone." And he was gone like an arrow,
+across the High, down Oriel Street.
+     The two women stood staring ruefully at each
+other.
+     "Pardon me," said the Duke, with a sweep of
+his plumed hat. "I observe you are stranded;
+and, if I read your thoughts aright, you are
+impugning the courtesy of that young runagate.
+Neither of you, I am very sure, is as one of those
+ladies who in Imperial Rome took a saucy pleas-
+ure in the spectacle of death. Neither of you can
+have been warned by your escort that you were on
+the way to see him die, of his own accord, in com-
+pany with many hundreds of other lads, myself
+included. Therefore, regard his flight from you
+as an act not of unkindness, but of tardy com-
+punction. The hint you have had from him let
+me turn into a counsel. Go back, both of you,
+to the place whence you came."
+     "Thank you <i>so</i> much," said Aunt Mabel, with
+what she took to be great presence of mind.
+"<i>Most</i> kind of you. We'll do <i>just</i> what you tell
+
+
+288      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+us. Come, Jessie dear," and she hurried her
+niece away with her.
+     Something in her manner of fixing him with her
+eye had made the Duke suspect what was in her
+mind. Well, she would find out her mistake soon
+enough, poor woman. He desired, however, that
+her mistake should be made by no one else. He
+would give no more warnings.
+     Tragic it was for him, in Merton Street, to see
+among the crowd converging to the meadows so
+many women, young and old, all imprescient,
+troubled by nothing but the thunder that was in
+the air, that was on the brows of their escorts.
+He knew not whether it was for their escorts or
+for them that he felt the greater pity; and an
+added load for his heart was the sense of his
+partial responsibility for what impended. But
+his lips were sealed now. Why should he not
+enjoy the effect he was creating?
+     It was with a measured tread, as yesterday
+with Zuleika, that he entered the avenue of elms.
+The throng streamed past from behind him, part-
+ing wide, and marvelling as it streamed. Under
+the pall of this evil evening his splendour was the
+more inspiring. And, just as yesterday no man
+had questioned his right to be with Zuleika, so
+to-day there was none to deem him caparisoned
+too much. All the men felt at a glance that he,
+coming to meet death thus, did no more than the
+right homage to Zuleika -- aye, and that he made
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      289
+
+them all partakers in his own glory, casting his
+great mantle over all commorients. Reverence
+forbade them to do more than glance. But the
+women with them were impelled by wonder to
+stare hard, uttering sharp little cries that mingled
+with the cawing of the rooks overhead. Thus did
+scores of men find themselves shamed like our
+friend Harold. But this, you say, was no more
+than a just return for their behaviour yesterday,
+when, in this very avenue, so many women were
+almost crushed to death by them in their insensate
+eagerness to see Miss Dobson.
+     To-day by scores of women it was calculated
+not only that the velvet of the Duke's mantle
+could not have cost less than four guineas a yard,
+but also that there must be quite twenty-five yards
+of it. Some of the fair mathematicians had, in
+the course of the past fortnight, visited the Royal
+Academy and seen there Mr. Sargent's portrait
+of the wearer, so that their estimate now was
+but the endorsement of an estimate already made.
+Yet their impression of the Duke was above all
+a spiritual one. The nobility of his face and
+bearing was what most thrilled them as they went
+by; and those of them who had heard the rumour
+that he was in love with that frightfully flashy-
+looking creature, Zuleika Dobson, were more than
+ever sure there wasn't a word of truth in it.
+     As he neared the end of the avenue, the Duke
+was conscious of a thinning in the procession on
+
+
+290     ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+either side of him, and anon he was aware that
+not one undergraduate was therein. And he
+knew at once -- did not need to look back to know
+-- why this was. <i>She</i> was coming.
+     Yes, she had come into the avenue, her magne-
+tism speeding before her, insomuch that all along
+the way the men immediately ahead of her looked
+round, beheld her, stood aside for her. With her
+walked The MacQuern, and a little bodyguard of
+other blest acquaintances; and behind her swayed
+the dense mass of the disorganised procession.
+And now the last rank between her and the Duke
+was broken, and at the revealed vision of him she
+faltered midway in some raillery she was ad-
+dressing to The MacQuern. Her eyes were fixed,
+her lips were parted, her tread had become
+stealthy. With a brusque gesture of dismissal to
+the men beside her, she darted forward, and
+lightly overtook the Duke just as he was turning
+towards the barges.
+     "May I?" she whispered, smiling round into
+his face.
+     His shoulder-knots just perceptibly rose.
+"There isn't a policeman in sight, John. You're
+at my mercy. No, no; I'm at yours. Tolerate
+me. You really do look quite wonderful. There,
+I won't be so impertinent as to praise you. Only
+let me be with you. Will you?"
+     The shoulder-knots repeated their answer.
+     "You needn't listen to me; needn't look at me
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      291
+
+-- unless you care to use my eyes as mirrors. Only
+let me be seen with you. That's what I want.
+Not that your society isn't a boon in itself, John.
+Oh, I've been so bored since I left you. The
+MacQuern is too, too dull, and so are his friends.
+Oh, that meal with them in Balliol! As soon as
+I grew used to the thought that they were going
+to die for me, I simply couldn't stand them. Poor
+boys! it was as much as I could do not to tell
+them I wished them dead already. Indeed, when
+they brought me down for the first races, I did
+suggest that they might as well die now as later.
+Only they looked very solemn and said it couldn't
+possibly be done till after the final races. And
+oh, the tea with them! What have <i>you</i> been
+doing all the afternoon? Oh John, after <i>them</i>,
+I could almost love you again. Why can't one
+fall in love with a man's clothes? To think that
+all those splendid things you have on are going to
+be spoilt -- all for me. Nominally for me, that is.
+It is very wonderful, John. I do appreciate it,
+really and truly, though I know you think I don't.
+John, if it weren't mere spite you feel for me --
+but it's no good talking about that. Come, let us
+be as cheerful as we may be. Is this the Judas
+house-boat?"
+     "The Judas barge," said the Duke, irritated
+by a mistake which but yesterday had rather
+charmed him.
+     As he followed his companion across the plank,
+
+
+292     ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+there came dully from the hills the first low growl
+of the pent storm. The sound struck for him a
+strange contrast with the prattle he had perforce
+been listening to.
+     "Thunder," said Zuleika over her shoulder.
+     "Evidently," he answered.
+     Half-way up the stairs to the roof, she looked
+round. "Aren't you coming?" she asked.
+     He shook his head, and pointed to the raft in
+front of the barge. She quickly descended.
+     "Forgive me," he said, "my gesture was not a
+summons. The raft is for men."
+     "What do you want to do on it?"
+     "To wait there till the races are over."
+     "But -- what do you mean? Aren't you coming
+up on to the roof at all? Yesterday --"
+     "Oh, I see," said the Duke, unable to repress
+a smile. "But to-day I am not dressed for a
+flying-leap."
+     Zuleika put a finger to her lips. "Don't talk
+so loud. Those women up there will hear you.
+No one must ever know I knew what was going
+to happen. What evidence should I have that I
+tried to prevent it? Only my own unsupported
+word -- and the world is always against a woman.
+So do be careful. I've thought it all out. The
+whole thing must be <i>sprung</i> on me. Don't look
+so horribly cynical. . . What was I saying? Oh
+yes; well, it doesn't really matter. I had it fixed
+in my mind that you -- but no, of course, in that
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      293
+
+mantle you couldn't. But why not come up on the
+roof with me meanwhile, and then afterwards
+make some excuse and --" The rest of her
+whisper was lost in another growl of thunder.
+     "I would rather make my excuses forthwith,"
+said the Duke. "And, as the races must be almost
+due now, I advise you to go straight up and secure
+a place against the railing."
+     "It will look very odd, my going all alone into
+a crowd of people whom I don't know. I'm an
+unmarried girl. I do think you might --"
+     "Good-bye," said the Duke.
+     Again Zuleika raised a warning finger.
+     "Good-bye, John," she whispered. "See, I am
+still wearing your studs. Good-bye. Don't forget
+to call my name in a loud voice. You promised."
+     "Yes."
+     "And," she added, after a pause, "remember
+this. I have loved but twice in my life; and none
+but you have I loved. This, too: if you hadn't
+forced me to kill my love, I would have died with
+you. And you know it is true."
+     "Yes." It was true enough.
+     Courteously he watched her up the stairs.
+     As she reached the roof, she cried down to him
+from the throng, "Then you will wait down there
+to take me home afterwards?"
+     He bowed silently.
+     The raft was even more crowded than yester-
+day, but way was made for him by Judasians past
+
+
+294      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+and present. He took his place in the centre of
+the front row.
+     At his feet flowed the fateful river. From the
+various barges the last punt-loads had been fer-
+ried across to the towing-path, and the last of the
+men who were to follow the boats in their course
+had vanished towards the starting-point. There
+remained, however, a fringe of lesser enthusiasts.
+Their figures stood outlined sharply in that
+strange dark clearness which immediately precedes
+a storm.
+     The thunder rumbled around the hills, and now
+and again there was a faint glare on the horizon.
+     Would Judas bump Magdalen? Opinion on
+the raft seemed to be divided. But the sanguine
+spirits were in a majority.
+     "If I were making a book on the event," said
+a middle-aged clergyman, with that air of breezy
+emancipation which is so distressing to the laity,
+"I'd bet two to one we bump."
+     "You demean your cloth, sir," the Duke would
+have said, "without cheating its disabilities," had
+not his mouth been stopped by a loud and pro-
+longed thunder-clap.
+     In the hush thereafter, came the puny sound of
+a gunshot. The boats were starting. Would
+Judas bump Magdalen? Would Judas be head
+of the river?
+     Strange, thought the Duke, that for him, stand-
+ing as he did on the peak of dandyism, on the
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      295
+
+brink of eternity, this trivial question of boats
+could have importance. And yet, and yet, for
+this it was that his heart was beating. A few
+minutes hence, an end to victors and vanquished
+alike; and yet. . .
+     A sudden white vertical streak slid down the
+sky. Then there was a consonance to split the
+drums of the world's ears, followed by a horrific
+rattling as of actual artillery -- tens of thousands
+of gun-carriages simultaneously at the gallop, col-
+liding, crashing, heeling over in the blackness.
+     Then, and yet more awful, silence; the little
+earth cowering voiceless under the heavens' men-
+ace. And, audible in the hush now, a faint sound;
+the sound of the runners on the towing-path cheer-
+ing the crews forward, forward.
+     And there was another faint sound that came
+to the Duke's ears. It he understood when, a
+moment later, he saw the surface of the river
+alive with infinitesimal fountains.
+     Rain!
+     His very mantle was aspersed. In another
+minute he would stand sodden, inglorious, a mock.
+He didn't hesitate.
+     "Zuleika!" he cried in a loud voice. Then he
+took a deep breath, and, burying his face in his
+mantle, plunged.
+     Full on the river lay the mantle outspread.
+Then it, too, went under. A great roll of water
+marked the spot. The plumed hat floated.
+
+
+296      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+     There was a confusion of shouts from the raft,
+of screams from the roof. Many youths -- all the
+youths there -- cried "Zuleika!" and leapt emu-
+lously headlong into the water. "Brave fellows!"
+shouted the elder men, supposing rescue-work.
+The rain pelted, the thunder pealed. Here and
+there was a glimpse of a young head above water
+-- for an instant only.
+     Shouts and screams now from the infected
+barges on either side. A score of fresh plunges.
+"Splendid fellows!"
+     Meanwhile, what of the Duke? I am glad to
+say that he was alive and (but for the cold he
+had caught last night) well. Indeed, his mind
+had never worked more clearly than in this swift
+dim underworld. His mantle, the cords of it
+having come untied, had drifted off him, leaving
+his arms free. With breath well-pent, he steadily
+swam, scarcely less amused than annoyed that the
+gods had, after all, dictated the exact time at
+which he should seek death.
+     I am loth to interrupt my narrative at this
+rather exciting moment -- a moment when the
+quick, tense style, exemplified in the last para-
+graph but one, is so very desirable. But in justice
+to the gods I must pause to put in a word of ex-
+cuse for them. They had imagined that it was in
+mere irony that the Duke had said he could not
+die till after the bumping-races; and not until it
+seemed that he stood ready to make an end of
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      297
+
+himself had the signal been given by Zeus for the
+rain to fall. One is taught to refrain from irony,
+because mankind does tend to take it literally.
+In the hearing of the gods, who hear all, it is
+conversely unsafe to make a simple and direct
+statement. So what is one to do? The dilemma
+needs a whole volume to itself.
+     But to return to the Duke. He had now been
+under water for a full minute, swimming down
+stream; and he calculated that he had yet another
+full minute of consciousness. Already the whole
+of his past life had vividly presented itself to him
+-- myriads of tiny incidents, long forgotten, now
+standing out sharply in their due sequence. He
+had mastered this conspectus in a flash of time,
+and was already tired of it. How smooth and
+yielding were the weeds against his face! He
+wondered if Mrs. Batch had been in time to cash
+the cheque. If not, of course his executors would
+pay the amount, but there would be delays, long
+delays, Mrs. Batch in meshes of red tape. Red
+tape for her, green weeds for him -- he smiled at
+this poor conceit, classifying it as a fair sample of
+merman's wit. He swam on through the quiet
+cool darkness, less quickly now. Not many more
+strokes now, he told himself; a few, only a few;
+then sleep. How was he come here? Some
+woman had sent him. Ever so many years ago,
+some woman. He forgave her. There was noth-
+ing to forgive her. It was the gods who had
+
+
+298      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+sent him -- too soon, too soon. He let his arms
+rise in the water, and he floated up. There was
+air in that over-world, and something he needed
+to know there before he came down again to
+sleep.
+     He gasped the air into his lungs, and he remem-
+bered what it was that he needed to know.
+     Had he risen in mid-stream, the keel of the
+Magdalen boat might have killed him. The oars
+of Magdalen did all but graze his face. The eyes
+of the Magdalen cox met his. The cords of the
+Magdalen rudder slipped from the hands that
+held them; whereupon the Magdalen man who
+rowed "bow" missed his stroke.
+     An instant later, just where the line of barges
+begins, Judas had bumped Magdalen.
+     A crash of thunder deadened the din of the
+stamping and dancing crowd on the towing-path.
+The rain was a deluge making land and water
+as one.
+     And the conquered crew, and the conquering,
+both now had seen the face of the Duke. A white
+smiling face, anon it was gone. Dorset was gone
+down to his last sleep.
+     Victory and defeat alike forgotten, the crews
+staggered erect and flung themselves into the
+river, the slender boats capsizing and spinning
+futile around in a melley of oars.
+     From the towing-path -- no more din there now,
+but great single cries of "Zuleika!" -- leapt figures
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      299
+
+innumerable through rain to river. The arrested
+boats of the other crews drifted zigzag hither and
+thither. The dropped oars rocked and clashed,
+sank and rebounded, as the men plunged across
+them into the swirling stream.
+     And over all this confusion and concussion of
+men and man-made things crashed the vaster dis-
+cords of the heavens; and the waters of the
+heavens fell ever denser and denser, as though
+to the aid of waters that could not in themselves
+envelop so many hundreds of struggling human
+forms.
+     All along the soaked towing-path lay strewn
+the horns, the rattles, the motor-hooters, that the
+youths had flung aside before they leapt. Here
+and there among these relics stood dazed elder
+men, staring through the storm. There was one
+of them -- a grey-beard -- who stripped off his
+blazer, plunged, grabbed at some live man, grap-
+pled him, was dragged under. He came up again
+further along stream, swam choking to the bank,
+clung to the grasses. He whimpered as he sought
+foot-hold in the slime. It was ill to be down in
+that abominable sink of death.
+     Abominable, yes, to them who discerned there
+death only; but sacramental and sweet enough
+to the men who were dying there for love. Any
+face that rose was smiling.
+     The thunder receded; the rain was less vehe-
+ment: the boats and the oars had drifted against
+
+
+300      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+the banks. And always the patient river bore its
+awful burden towards Iffley.
+     As on the towing-path, so on the youth-bereft
+rafts of the barges, yonder, stood many stupefied
+elders, staring at the river, staring back from the
+river into one another's faces.
+     Dispeopled now were the roofs of the barges.
+Under the first drops of the rain most of the
+women had come huddling down for shelter in-
+side; panic had presently driven down the rest.
+Yet on one roof one woman still was. A strange,
+drenched figure, she stood bright-eyed in the dim-
+ness; alone, as it was well she should be in her
+great hour; draining the lees of such homage as
+had come to no woman in history recorded.
+
+
+XX
+
+ARTISTICALLY, there is a good deal to be said for
+that old Greek friend of ours, the Messenger;
+and I dare say you blame me for having, as it
+were, made you an eye-witness of the death of the
+undergraduates, when I might so easily have
+brought some one in to tell you about it after it
+was all over. . . Some one? Whom? Are you
+not begging the question? I admit there were,
+that evening in Oxford, many people who, when
+they went home from the river, gave vivid reports
+of what they had seen. But among them was none
+who had seen more than a small portion of the
+whole affair. Certainly, I might have pieced to-
+gether a dozen of the various accounts, and put
+them all into the mouth of one person. But cred-
+ibility is not enough for Clio's servant. I aim at
+truth. And so, as I by my Zeus-given incorporeity
+was the one person who had a good view of the
+scene at large, you must pardon me for having
+withheld the veil of indirect narration.
+     "Too late," you will say if I offer you a Mes-
+senger now. But it was not thus that Mrs. Batch
+and Katie greeted Clarence when, lamentably
+soaked with rain, that Messenger appeared on
+
+301
+
+
+302      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+the threshold of the kitchen. Katie was laying
+the table-cloth for seven o'clock supper. Neither
+she nor her mother was clairvoyante. Neither
+of them knew what had been happening. But,
+as Clarence had not come home since afternoon-
+school, they had assumed that he was at the river;
+and they now assumed from the look of him that
+something very unusual had been happening there.
+As to what this was, they were not quickly en-
+lightened. Our old Greek friend, after a run of
+twenty miles, would always reel off a round hun-
+dred of graphic verses unimpeachable in scansion.
+Clarence was of degenerate mould. He collapsed
+on to a chair, and sat there gasping; and his re-
+covery was rather delayed than hastened by his
+mother, who, in her solicitude, patted him vigor-
+ously between the shoulders.
+     "Let him alone, mother, do," cried Katie,
+wringing her hands.
+     "The Duke, he's drowned himself," presently
+gasped the Messenger.
+     Blank verse, yes, so far as it went; but delivered
+without the slightest regard for rhythm, and com-
+posed in stark defiance of those laws which should
+regulate the breaking of bad news. You, please
+remember, were carefully prepared by me against
+the shock of the Duke's death; and yet I hear
+you still mumbling that I didn't let the actual fact
+be told you by a Messenger. Come, do you really
+think your grievance against me is for a moment
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      303
+
+comparable with that of Mrs. and Miss Batch
+against Clarence? Did you feel faint at any
+moment in the foregoing chapter? No. But
+Katie, at Clarence's first words, fainted outright.
+Think a little more about this poor girl senseless
+on the floor, and a little less about your own
+paltry discomfort.
+     Mrs. Batch herself did not faint, but she was
+too much overwhelmed to notice that her daugh-
+ter had done so.
+     "No! Mercy on us! Speak, boy, can't you?"
+     "The river," gasped Clarence. "Threw him-
+self in. On purpose. I was on the towing-path.
+Saw him do it."
+     Mrs. Batch gave a low moan.
+     "Katie's fainted," added the Messenger, not
+without a touch of personal pride.
+     "Saw him do it," Mrs. Batch repeated dully.
+"Katie," she said, in the same voice, "get up this
+instant." But Katie did not hear her.
+     The mother was loth to have been outdone in
+sensibility by the daughter, and it was with some
+temper that she hastened to make the necessary
+ministrations.
+     "Where am I?" asked Katie, at length, echoing
+the words used in this very house, at a similar
+juncture, on this very day, by another lover of
+the Duke.
+     "Ah, you may well ask that," said Mrs. Batch,
+with more force than reason. "A mother's sup-
+
+
+304      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+port indeed! Well! And as for you," she cried,
+turning on Clarence, "sending her off like that
+with your --" She was face to face again with
+the tragic news. Katie, remembering it simultane-
+ously, uttered a loud sob. Mrs. Batch capped this
+with a much louder one. Clarence stood before
+the fire, slowly revolving on one heel. His clothes
+steamed briskly.
+     "It isn't true," said Katie. She rose and came
+uncertainly towards her brother, half threatening,
+half imploring.
+     "All right," said he, strong in his advantage.
+"Then I shan't tell either of you anything more."
+     Mrs. Batch through her tears called Katie a
+bad girl, and Clarence a bad boy.
+     "Where did you get <i>them</i>?" asked Clarence,
+pointing to the ear-rings worn by his sister.
+     "<i>He</i> gave me them," said Katie. Clarence
+curbed the brotherly intention of telling her she
+looked "a sight" in them.
+     She stood staring into vacancy. "He didn't
+love <i>her</i>," she murmured. "That was all over.
+I'll vow he didn't love <i>her</i>."
+     "Who d'you mean by her?" asked Clarence.
+     "That Miss Dobson that's been here."
+     "What's her other name?"
+     "Zuleika," Katie enunciated with bitterest ab-
+horrence.
+     "Well, then, he jolly well did love her. That's
+the name he called out just before he threw him-
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      305
+
+self in. 'Zuleika!' -- like that," added the boy,
+with a most infelicitous attempt to reproduce the
+Duke's manner.
+     Katie had shut her eyes, and clenched her
+hands.
+     "He hated her. He told me so," she said.
+     "I was always a mother to him," sobbed Mrs.
+Batch, rocking to and fro on a chair in a corner.
+"Why didn't he come to me in his trouble?"
+     "He kissed me," said Katie, as in a trance.
+"No other man shall ever do that."
+     "He did?" exclaimed Clarence. "And you let
+him?"
+     "You wretched little whipper-snapper!" flashed
+Katie.
+     "Oh, I am, am I?" shouted Clarence, squaring
+up to his sister. "Say that again, will you?"
+     There is no doubt that Katie would have said
+it again, had not her mother closed the scene
+with a prolonged wail of censure.
+     "You ought to be thinking of <i>me</i>, you wicked
+girl," said Mrs. Batch. Katie went across, and
+laid a gentle hand on her mother's shoulder. This,
+however, did but evoke a fresh flood of tears.
+Mrs. Batch had a keen sense of the deportment
+owed to tragedy. Katie, by bickering with Clar-
+ence, had thrown away the advantage she had
+gained by fainting. Mrs. Batch was not going
+to let her retrieve it by shining as a consoler. I
+hasten to add that this resolve was only sub-con-
+
+
+306      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+scious in the good woman. Her grief was per-
+fectly sincere. And it was not the less so because
+with it was mingled a certain joy in the greatness
+of the calamity. She came of good sound peasant
+stock. Abiding in her was the spirit of those old
+songs and ballads in which daisies and daffodillies
+and lovers' vows and smiles are so strangely in-
+woven with tombs and ghosts, with murders and
+all manner of grim things. She had not had edu-
+cation enough to spoil her nerve. She was able
+to take the rough with the smooth. She was able
+to take all life for her province, and death
+too.
+     The Duke was dead. This was the stupendous
+outline she had grasped: now let it be filled in.
+She had been stricken: now let her be racked.
+Soon after her daughter had moved away, Mrs.
+Batch dried her eyes, and bade Clarence tell just
+what had happened. She did not flinch. Modern
+Katie did.
+     Such had ever been the Duke's magic in the
+household that Clarence had at first forgotten to
+mention that any one else was dead. Of this
+omission he was glad. It promised him a new
+lease of importance. Meanwhile, he described in
+greater detail the Duke's plunge. Mrs. Batch's
+mind, while she listened, ran ahead, dog-like, into
+the immediate future, ranging around: "the fam-
+ily" would all be here to-morrow, the Duke's own
+room must be "put straight" to-night, "I was
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      307
+
+always a mother to him, my Lady, in a manner
+of speaking". . .
+     Katie's mind harked back to the immediate past
+-- to the tone of that voice, to that hand which
+she had kissed, to the touch of those lips on her
+brow, to the door-step she had made so white for
+him, day by day. . .
+     The sound of the rain had long ceased. There
+was the noise of a gathering wind.
+     "Then in went a lot of others," Clarence was
+saying. "And they all shouted out 'Zuleika!' just
+like he did. Then a lot more went in. First I
+thought it was some sort of fun. Not it!" And
+he told how, by inquiries further down the river,
+he had learned the extent of the disaster. "Hun-
+dreds and hundreds of them -- <i>all</i> of them," he
+summed up. "And all for the love of <i>her</i>," he
+added, as with a sulky salute to Romance.
+     Mrs. Batch had risen from her chair, the better
+to cope with such magnitude. She stood with
+wide-spread arms, silent, gaping. She seemed, by
+sheer force of sympathy, to be expanding to the
+dimensions of a crowd.
+     Intensive Katie recked little of all these other
+deaths. "I only know," she said, "that he hated
+her."
+     "Hundreds and hundreds -- <i>all</i>," intoned Mrs.
+Batch, then gave a sudden start, as having remem-
+bered something. Mr. Noaks! He, too! She
+staggered to the door, leaving her actual offspring
+
+
+308      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+to their own devices, and went heavily up the
+stairs, her mind scampering again before her. . . .
+If he was safe and sound, dear young gentleman,
+heaven be praised! and she would break the awful
+news to him, very gradually. If not, there was
+another "family" to be solaced; "I'm a mother
+myself, Mrs. Noaks". . .
+   The sitting-room door was closed. Twice did
+Mrs. Batch tap on the panel, receiving no answer.
+She went in, gazed around in the dimness, sighed
+deeply, and struck a match. Conspicuous on the
+table lay a piece of paper. She bent to examine
+it. A piece of lined paper, torn from an exercise
+book, it was neatly inscribed with the words <i>What
+is Life without Love?</i> The final word and the
+note of interrogation were somewhat blurred, as
+by a tear. The match had burnt itself out. The
+landlady lit another, and read the legend a second
+time, that she might take in the full pathos of it.
+Then she sat down in the arm-chair. For some
+minutes she wept there. Then, having no more,
+tears, she went out on tip-toe, closing the door
+very quietly.
+     As she descended the last flight of stairs, her
+daughter had just shut the front-door, and was
+coming along the hall.
+     "Poor Mr. Noaks -- he's gone," said the
+mother.
+     "Has he?" said Katie listlessly.
+     "Yes he has, you heartless girl. What's that
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      309
+
+you've got in your hand? Why, if it isn't the
+black-leading! And what have you been doing
+with that?"
+     "Let me alone, mother, do," said poor Katie.
+She had done her lowly task. She had expressed
+her mourning, as best she could, there where she
+had been wont to express her love.
+
+
+XXI
+
+AND Zuleika? She had done a wise thing, and
+was where it was best that she should be.
+     Her face lay upturned on the water's surface,
+and round it were the masses of her dark hair,
+half floating, half submerged. Her eyes were
+closed, and her lips were parted. Not Ophelia in
+the brook could have seemed more at peace.
+          "Like a creature native and indued
+     Unto that element,"
+tranquil Zuleika lay.
+     Gently to and fro her tresses drifted on the
+water, or under the water went ever ravelling and
+unravelling. Nothing else of her stirred.
+     What to her now the loves that she had inspired
+and played on? the lives lost for her? Little
+thought had she now of them. Aloof she lay.
+     Steadily rising from the water was a thick va-
+pour that turned to dew on the window-pane. The
+air was heavy with scent of violets. These are
+the flowers of mourning; but their scent here and
+now signified nothing; for Eau de Violettes was
+the bath-essence that Zuleika always had.
+     The bath-room was not of the white-gleaming
+kind to which she was accustomed. The walls
+were papered, not tiled, and the bath itself was of
+
+310
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      311
+
+japanned tin, framed in mahogany. These things,
+on the evening of her arrival at the Warden's,
+had rather distressed her. But she was the better
+able to bear them because of that well-remembered
+past when a bath-room was in itself a luxury pined
+for -- days when a not-large and not-full can of
+not-hot water, slammed down at her bedroom
+door by a governess-resenting housemaid, was as
+much as the gods allowed her. And there was,
+to dulcify for her the bath of this evening, the yet
+sharper contrast with the plight she had just come
+home in, sopped, shivering, clung to by her
+clothes. Because this bath was not a mere lux-
+ury, but a necessary precaution, a sure means of
+salvation from chill, she did the more gratefully
+bask in it, till M&eacute;lisande came back to her, laden
+with warmed towels.
+     A few minutes before eight o'clock she was
+fully ready to go down to dinner, with even more
+than the usual glow of health, and hungry beyond
+her wont.
+     Yet, as she went down, her heart somewhat
+misgave her. Indeed, by force of the wide ex-
+perience she had had as a governess, she never
+did feel quite at her ease when she was staying
+in a private house: the fear of not giving satisfac-
+tion haunted her; she was always on her guard;
+the shadow of dismissal absurdly hovered. And
+to-night she could not tell herself, as she usually
+did, not to be so silly. If her grandfather knew
+
+
+312      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+already the motive by which those young men
+had been actuated, dinner with him might be a
+rather strained affair. He might tell her, in so
+many words, that he wished he had not invited
+her to Oxford.
+     Through the open door of the drawing room
+she saw him, standing majestic, draped in a volum-
+inous black gown. Her instinct was to run away;
+but this she conquered. She went straight in, re-
+membering not to smile.
+     "Ah, ah," said the Warden, shaking a fore-
+finger at her with old-world playfulness. "And
+what have you to say for yourself?"
+     Relieved, she was also a trifle shocked. Was
+it possible that he, a responsible old man, could
+take things so lightly?
+     "Oh, grand-papa," she answered, hanging her
+head, "what <i>can</i> I say? It is -- it is too, too,
+dreadful."
+     "There, there, my dear. I was but jesting. If
+you have had an agreeable time, you are forgiven
+for playing truant. Where have you been all
+day?"
+     She saw that she had misjudged him. "I have
+just come from the river," she said gravely.
+     "Yes? And did the College make its fourth
+bump to-night?"
+     "I -- I don't know, grand-papa. There was so
+much happening. It -- I will tell you all about it
+at dinner."
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      313
+
+     "Ah, but to-night," he said, indicating his gown,
+"I cannot be with you. The bump-supper, you
+know. I have to preside in Hall."
+     Zuleika had forgotten there was to be a bump-
+supper, and, though she was not very sure what
+a bump-supper was, she felt it would be a mockery
+to-night.
+     "But grand-papa-" she began.
+     "My dear, I cannot dissociate myself from the
+life of the College. And, alas," he said, looking
+at the clock, "I must leave you now. As soon
+as you have finished dinner, you might, if you
+would care to, come and peep down at us from
+the gallery. There is apt to be some measure of
+noise and racket, but all of it good-humoured and
+-- boys will be boys -- pardonable. Will you
+come?"
+     "Perhaps, grand-papa," she said awkwardly.
+Left alone, she hardly knew whether to laugh
+or cry. In a moment, the butler came to her
+rescue, telling her that dinner was served.
+     As the figure of the Warden emerged from Salt
+Cellar into the Front Quadrangle, a hush fell on
+the group of gowned Fellows outside the Hall.
+Most of them had only just been told the news,
+and (such is the force of routine in an University)
+were still sceptical of it. And in face of these
+doubts the three or four dons who had been
+down at the river were now half ready to believe
+that there must, after all, be some mistake, and
+
+
+314      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+that in this world of illusions they had to-night
+been specially tricked. To rebut this theory, there
+was the notable absence of undergraduates. Or
+was this an illusion, too? Men of thought, agile
+on the plane of ideas, devils of fellows among
+books, they groped feebly in this matter of actual
+life and death. The sight of their Warden heart-
+ened them. After all, he was the responsible
+person. He was father of the flock that had
+strayed, and grandfather of the beautiful Miss
+Zuleika.
+     Like her, they remembered not to smile in
+greeting him.
+     "Good evening, gentlemen," he said. "The
+storm seems to have passed."
+     There was a murmur of "Yes, Warden."
+     "And how did our boat acquit itself?"
+     There was a shuffling pause. Every one looked
+at the Sub-Warden: it was manifestly for him to
+break the news, or to report the hallucination.
+He was nudged forward -- a large man, with a
+large beard at which he plucked nervously.
+     "Well, really, Warden," he said, "we -- we
+hardly know,"* and he ended with what can only
+
+     *Those of my readers who are interested in athletic sports
+will remember the long controversy that raged as to whether
+Judas had actually bumped Magdalen; and they will not need
+to be minded that it was mainly through the evidence of
+Mr. E. T. A. Cook, who had been on the towing-path at the
+time, that the 0. U. B. C. decided the point in Judas' favour,
+and fixed the order of the boats for the following year accordingly.
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      315
+
+be described as a giggle. He fell low in the
+esteem of his fellows.
+     Thinking of that past Sub-Warden whose fame
+was linked with the sun-dial, the Warden eyed
+this one keenly.
+     "Well, gentlemen," he presently said, "our
+young men seem to be already at table. Shall we
+follow their example?" And he led the way up
+the steps.
+     Already at table? The dons' dubiety toyed
+with this hypothesis. But the aspect of the Hall's
+Interior was hard to explain away. Here were
+the three long tables, stretching white towards
+the dais, and laden with the usual crockery and
+cutlery, and with pots of flowers in honour of the
+occasion. And here, ranged along either wall,
+was the usual array of scouts, motionless, with
+napkins across their arms. But that was all.
+     It became clear to the Warden that some organ-
+ised prank or protest was afoot. Dignity required
+that he should take no heed whatsoever. Look-
+ing neither to the right nor to the left, stately he
+approached the dais, his Fellows to heel.
+     In Judas, as in other Colleges, grace before
+meat is read by the Senior Scholar. The Judas
+grace (composed, they say, by Christopher Whit-
+rid himself) is noted for its length and for the
+excellence of its Latinity. Who was to read it
+to-night? The Warden, having searched his mind
+vainly for a precedent, was driven to create one.
+
+
+316      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+     "The Junior Fellow," he said, "will read
+grace."
+     Blushing to the roots of his hair, and with crab-
+like gait, Mr. Pedby, the Junior Fellow, went
+and unhooked from the wall that little shield of
+wood on which the words of the grace are carven.
+Mr. Pedby was -- Mr. Pedby is -- a mathemati-
+cian. His treatise on the Higher Theory of
+Short Division by Decimals had already won for
+him an European reputation. Judas was -- Judas
+is -- proud of Pedby. Nor is it denied that in
+undertaking the duty thrust on him he quickly
+controlled his nerves and read the Latin out in
+ringing accents. Better for him had he not done
+so. The false quantities he made were so ex-
+cruciating and so many that, while the very scouts
+exchanged glances, the dons at the high table lost
+all command of their features, and made horrible
+noises in the effort to contain themselves. The
+very Warden dared not look from his plate.
+     In every breast around the high table, behind
+every shirtfront or black silk waistcoat, glowed
+the recognition of a new birth. Suddenly, un-
+heralded, a thing of highest destiny had fallen
+into their academic midst. The stock of Common
+Room talk had to-night been re-inforced and en-
+riched for all time. Summers and winters would
+come and go, old faces would vanish, giving place
+to new, but the story of Pedby's grace would be
+told always. Here was a tradition that genera-
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      317
+
+tions of dons yet unborn would cherish and
+chuckle over. Something akin to awe mingled
+itself with the subsiding merriment. And the
+dons, having finished their soup, sipped in silence
+the dry brown sherry.
+     Those who sat opposite to the Warden, with
+their backs to the void, were oblivious of the
+matter that had so recently teased them. They
+were conscious only of an agreeable hush, in which
+they peered down the vistas of the future, watch-
+ing the tradition of Pedby's grace as it rolled
+brighter and ever brighter down to eternity.
+     The pop of a champagne cork startled them
+to remembrance that this was a bump-supper, and
+a bump-supper of a peculiar kind. The turbot
+that came after the soup, the champagne that
+succeeded the sherry, helped to quicken in these
+men of thought the power to grapple with a
+reality. The aforesaid three or four who had
+been down at the river recovered their lost belief
+in the evidence of their eyes and ears. In the
+rest was a spirit of receptivity which, as the meal
+went on, mounted to conviction. The Sub-War-
+den made a second and more determined attempt
+to enlighten the Warden; but the Warden's eye
+met his with a suspicion so cruelly pointed that
+he again floundered and gave in.
+     All adown those empty other tables gleamed
+the undisturbed cutlery, and the flowers in the pots
+innocently bloomed. And all adown either wall,
+
+
+318      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+unneeded but undisbanded, the scouts remained.
+Some of the elder ones stood with closed eyes
+and heads sunk forward, now and again jerking
+themselves erect, and blinking around, wondering,
+remembering.
+     And for a while this scene was looked down on
+by a not disinterested stranger. For a while, her
+chin propped on her hands, Zuleika leaned over
+the rail of the gallery, just as she had lately
+leaned over the barge's rail, staring down and
+along. But there was no spark of triumph now
+in her eyes; only a deep melancholy; and in her
+mouth a taste as of dust and ashes. She thought
+of last night, and of all the buoyant life that this
+Hall had held. Of the Duke she thought, and of
+the whole vivid and eager throng of his fellows
+in love. Her will, their will, had been done. But.
+there rose to her lips the old, old question that
+withers victory -- "To what end?"  Her eyes
+ranged along the tables, and an appalling sense
+of loneliness swept over her. She turned away,
+wrapping the folds of her cloak closer across her
+breast. Not in this College only, but through
+and through Oxford, there was no heart that beat
+for her -- no, not one, she told herself, with that
+instinct for self-torture which comes to souls in
+torment. She was utterly alone to-night in the
+midst of a vast indifference. She! She! Was it
+possible? Were the gods so merciless? Ah no,
+surely. . .
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      319
+
+     Down at the high table the feast drew to its
+close, and very different was the mood of the
+feasters from that of the young woman whose
+glance had for a moment rested on their unro-
+mantic heads. Generations of undergraduates
+had said that Oxford would be all very well but
+for the dons. Do you suppose that the dons had
+had no answering sentiment? Youth is a very
+good thing to possess, no doubt; but it is a tire-
+some setting for maturity. Youth all around
+prancing, vociferating, mocking; callow and alien
+youth, having to be looked after and studied and
+taught, as though nothing but it mattered, term
+after term -- and now, all of a sudden, in mid-
+term, peace, ataraxy, a profound and leisured still-
+ness. No lectures to deliver to-morrow; no "es-
+says" to hear and criticise; time for the unvexed
+pursuit of pure learning. . .
+     As the Fellows passed out on their way to Com-
+mon Room, there to tackle with a fresh appetite
+Pedby's grace, they paused, as was their wont,
+on the steps of the Hall, looking up at the sky,
+envisaging the weather. The wind had dropped.
+There was even a glimpse of the moon riding be-
+hind the clouds. And now, a solemn and plangent
+token of Oxford's perpetuity, the first stroke of
+Great Tom sounded.
+
+
+XXII
+
+STROKE by stroke, the great familiar monody of
+that incomparable curfew rose and fell in the
+stillness.
+     Nothing of Oxford lingers more surely than it
+in the memory of Oxford men; and to one revisit-
+ing these groves nothing is more eloquent of that
+scrupulous historic economy whereby his own par-
+ticular past is utilised as the general present and
+future. "All's as it was, all's as it will be," says
+Great Tom; and that is what he stubbornly said
+on the evening I here record.
+     Stroke by measured and leisured stroke, the
+old euphonious clangour pervaded Oxford,
+spreading out over the meadows, along the river,
+audible in Iffley. But to the dim groups gather-
+ing and dispersing on either bank, and to the silent
+workers in the boats, the bell's message came
+softened, equivocal; came as a requiem for these
+dead.
+     Over the closed gates of Iffley lock, the water
+gushed down, eager for the sacrament of the sea.
+Among the supine in the field hard by, there
+was one whose breast bore a faint-gleaming star.
+And bending over him, looking down at him with
+
+320
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON     321
+
+much love and pity in her eyes, was the shade of
+Nellie O'Mora, that "fairest witch," to whose
+memory he had to-day atoned.
+     And yonder, "sitting upon the river-bank o'er-
+grown," with questioning eyes, was another shade,
+more habituated to these haunts -- the shade
+known so well to bathers "in the abandoned
+lasher," and to dancers "around the Fyfield elm
+in May." At the bell's final stroke, the Scholar
+Gipsy rose, letting fall on the water his gathered
+wild-flowers, and passed towards Cumnor.
+     And now, duly, throughout Oxford, the gates
+of the Colleges were closed, and closed were the
+doors of the lodging-houses. Every night, for
+many years, at this hour precisely, Mrs. Batch
+had come out from her kitchen, to turn the key in
+the front-door. The function had long ago be-
+come automatic. To-night, however, it was the
+cue for further tears. These did not cease at her
+return to the kitchen, where she had gathered
+about her some sympathetic neighbours -- women
+of her own age and kind, capacious of tragedy;
+women who might be relied on; founts of ejacula-
+tion, wells of surmise, downpours of remembered
+premonitions.
+     With his elbows on the kitchen table, and his
+knuckles to his brow, sat Clarence, intent on be-
+lated "prep." Even an eye-witness of disaster
+may pall if he repeat his story too often. Clar-
+ence had noted in the last recital that he was
+
+
+322      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+losing his hold on his audience. So now he sat
+committing to memory the names of the cantons
+of Switzerland, and waving aside with a harsh
+gesture such questions as were still put to him
+by the women.
+     Katie had sought refuge in the need for "put-
+ting the gentlemen's rooms straight," against the
+arrival of the two families to-morrow. Duster in
+hand, and by the light of a single candle that
+barely survived the draught from the open win-
+dow, she moved to and fro about the Duke's
+room, a wan and listless figure, casting queerest
+shadows on the ceiling. There were other can-
+dles that she might have lit, but this ambiguous
+gloom suited her sullen humour. Yes, I am sorry
+to say, Katie was sullen. She had not ceased to
+mourn the Duke; but it was even more anger than
+grief that she felt at his dying. She was as sure
+as ever that he had not loved Miss Dobson; but
+this only made it the more outrageous that he had
+died because of her. What was there in this
+woman that men should so demean themselves
+for her? Katie, as you know, had at first been
+unaffected by the death of the undergraduates at
+large. But, because they too had died for Zu-
+leika, she was bitterly incensed against them now.
+What could they have admired in such a woman?
+She didn't even look like a lady. Katie caught
+the dim reflection of herself in the mirror. She
+took the candle from the table, and examined the
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      323
+
+reflection closely. She was sure she was just as
+pretty as Miss Dobson. It was only the clothes
+that made the difference -- the clothes and the be-
+haviour. Katie threw back her head, and smiled
+brilliantly, hand on hip. She nodded reassuringly
+at herself; and the black pearl and the pink
+danced a duet. She put the candle down, and un-
+did her hair, roughly parting it on one side, and
+letting it sweep down over the further eyebrow.
+She fixed it in that fashion, and posed accordingly.
+Now! But gradually her smile relaxed, and a
+mist came to her eyes. For she had to admit that
+even so, after all, she hadn't just that something
+which somehow Miss Dobson had. She put away
+from her the hasty dream she had had of a whole
+future generation of undergraduates drowning
+themselves, every one, in honour of her. She
+went wearily on with her work.
+     Presently, after a last look round, she went
+up the creaking stairs, to do Mr. Noaks' room.
+     She found on the table that screed which her
+mother had recited so often this evening. She
+put it in the waste-paper basket.
+     Also on the table were a lexicon, a Thucydides,
+and some note-books. These she took and shelved
+without a tear for the closed labours they bore
+witness to.
+     The next disorder that met her eye was one
+that gave her pause -- seemed, indeed, to transfix
+her.
+
+
+324      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+     Mr. Noaks had never, since he came to lodge
+here, possessed more than one pair of boots. This
+fact had been for her a lasting source of annoy-
+ance; for it meant that she had to polish Mr.
+Noaks' boots always in the early morning, when
+there were so many other things to be done, in-
+stead of choosing her own time. Her annoyance
+had been all the keener because Mr. Noaks' boots
+more than made up in size for what they lacked
+in number. Either of them singly took more time
+and polish than any other pair imaginable. She
+would have recognised them, at a glance, any-
+where. Even so now, it was at a glance that she
+recognised the toes of them protruding from be-
+neath the window-curtain. She dismissed the
+theory that Mr. Noaks might have gone utterly
+unshod to the river. She scouted the hypothesis
+that his ghost could be shod thus. By process
+of elimination she arrived at the truth.
+"Mr. Noaks," she said quietly, "come out of
+there."
+     There was a slight quiver of the curtain; no
+more. Katie repeated her words. There was a
+pause, then a convulsion of the curtain. Noaks
+stood forth.
+     Always, in polishing his boots, Katie had found
+herself thinking of him as a man of prodigious
+stature, well though she knew him to be quite
+tiny. Even so now, at recognition of his boots,
+she had fixed her eyes to meet his, when he should
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      325
+
+emerge, a full yard too high. With a sharp drop
+she focussed him.
+     "By what right," he asked, "do you come pry-
+ing about my room?"
+     This was a stroke so unexpected that it left
+Katie mute. It equally surprised Noaks, who had
+been about to throw himself on his knees and
+implore this girl not to betray him. He was
+quick, though, to clinch his advantage.
+     "This," he said, "is the first time I have caught
+you. Let it be the last."
+     Was this the little man she had so long de-
+spised, and so superciliously served? His very
+smallness gave him an air of concentrated force.
+She remembered having read that all the greatest
+men in history had been of less than the middle
+height. And -- oh, her heart leapt -- here was the
+one man who had scorned to die for Miss Dob-
+son. He alone had held out against the folly of
+his fellows. Sole and splendid survivor he stood,
+rock-footed, before her. And impulsively she
+abased herself, kneeling at his feet as at the great
+double altar of some dark new faith.
+     "You are great, sir, you are wonderful," she
+said, gazing up to him, rapt. It was the first
+time she had ever called him "sir."
+     It is easier, as Michelet suggested, for a woman
+to change her opinion of a man than for him to
+change his opinion of himself. Noaks, despite
+the presence of mind he had shown a few moments
+
+
+326      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+ago, still saw himself as he had seen himself dur-
+ing the past hours: that is, as an arrant little
+coward -- one who by his fear to die had put him-
+self outside the pale of decent manhood. He had
+meant to escape from the house at dead of night
+and, under an assumed name, work his passage
+out to Australia -- a land which had always made
+strong appeal to his imagination. No one, he
+had reflected, would suppose because his body was
+not retrieved from the water that he had not
+perished with the rest. And he had looked to
+Australia to make a man of him yet: in Encounter
+Bay, perhaps, or in the Gulf of Carpentaria, he
+might yet end nobly.
+     Thus Katie's behaviour was as much an embar-
+rassment as a relief; and he asked her in what
+way he was great and wonderful.
+     "Modest, like all heroes!" she cried, and, still
+kneeling, proceeded to sing his praises with a so
+infectious fervour that Noaks did begin to feel
+he had done a fine thing in not dying. After all,
+was it not moral cowardice as much as love that
+had tempted him to die? He had wrestled with
+it, thrown it. "Yes," said he, when her rhapsody
+was over, "perhaps I am modest."
+     "And that is why you hid yourself just now?"
+     "Yes," he gladly said. "I hid myself for the
+same reason," he added, "when I heard your
+mother's footstep."
+     "But," she faltered, with a sudden doubt,
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      327
+
+"that bit of writing which Mother found on the
+table --"
+     "That? Oh, that was only a general reflection,
+copied out of a book."
+     "Oh, won't poor Mother be glad when she
+knows!"
+     "I don't want her to know," said Noaks, with
+a return of nervousness. "You mustn't tell any
+one. I -- the fact is --"
+     "Ah, that is so like you!" the girl said tenderly.
+"I suppose it was your modesty that all this while
+blinded me. Please, sir, I have a confession to
+make to you. Never till to-night have I loved
+you."
+     Exquisite was the shock of these words to one
+who, not without reason, had always assumed that
+no woman would ever love him. Before he knew
+what he was doing, he had bent down and kissed
+the sweet upturned face. It was the first kiss
+he had ever given outside his family circle. It
+was an artless and a resounding kiss.
+     He started back, dazed. What manner of man,
+he wondered, was he? A coward, piling pro-
+fligacy on poltroonery? Or a hero, claiming ex-
+emption from moral law? What was done could
+not be undone; but it could be righted. He drew
+off from the little finger of his left hand that iron
+ring which, after a twinge of rheumatism, he had
+to-day resumed.
+     "Wear it," he said.
+
+
+328      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+     "You mean --?" She leapt to her feet.
+     "That we are engaged. I hope you don't think
+we have any choice?"
+     She clapped her hands, like the child she was,
+and adjusted the ring.
+     "It is very pretty," she said.
+     "It is very simple," he answered lightly. "But,"
+he added, with a change of tone, "it is very
+durable. And that is the important thing. For
+I shall not be in a position to marry before I am
+forty."
+     A shadow of disappointment hovered over
+Katie's clear young brow, but was instantly
+chased away by the thought that to be engaged
+was almost as splendid as to be married.
+     "Recently," said her lover, "I meditated leav-
+ing Oxford for Australia. But now that you have
+come into my life, I am compelled to drop that
+notion, and to carve out the career I had first set
+for myself. A year hence, if I get a Second in
+Greats -- and I <i>shall</i>" he said, with a fierce look
+that entranced her -- "I shall have a very good
+chance of an assistant-mastership in a good pri-
+vate school. In eighteen years, if I am careful --
+and, with you waiting for me, I <i>shall</i> be careful --
+my savings will enable me to start a small school
+of my own, and to take a wife. Even then it
+would be more prudent to wait another five years,
+no doubt. But there was always a streak of mad-
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      329
+
+ness in the Noakses. I say 'Prudence to the
+winds!'"
+     "Ah, don't say that!" exclaimed Katie, laying
+a hand on his sleeve.
+     "You are right. Never hesitate to curb me.
+And," he said, touching the ring, "an idea has
+just occurred to me. When the time comes, let
+this be the wedding-ring. Gold is gaudy -- not at
+all the thing for a schoolmaster's bride. It is a
+pity," he muttered, examining her through his
+spectacles, "that your hair is so golden. A school-
+master's bride should -- Good heavens! Those
+ear-rings! Where did you get <i>them</i>?"
+     "They were given to me to-day," Katie fal-
+tered. "The Duke gave me them."
+     "Indeed?"
+     "Please, sir, he gave me them as a memento."
+     "And that memento shall immediately be
+handed over to his executors."
+     "Yes, sir."
+     "I should think so!" was on the tip of Noaks'
+tongue, but suddenly he ceased to see the pearls
+as trinkets finite and inapposite -- saw them, in a
+flash, as things transmutable by sale hereafter
+into desks, forms, black-boards, maps, lockers,
+cubicles, gravel soil, diet unlimited, and special
+attention to backward pupils. Simultaneously,
+he saw how mean had been his motive for repu-
+diating the gift. What more despicable than
+jealousy of a man deceased? What sillier than to
+
+
+330      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+cast pearls before executors? Sped by nothing but
+the pulse of his hot youth, he had wooed and won
+this girl. Why flinch from her unsought dowry?
+     He told her his vision. Her eyes opened wide
+to it. "And oh," she cried, "then we can be
+married as soon as you take your degree!"
+     He bade her not be so foolish. Who ever heard
+of a head-master aged three-and-twenty? What
+parent or guardian would trust a stripling? The
+engagement must run its course. "And," he said,
+fidgeting, "do you know that I have hardly done
+any reading to-day?"
+     "You want to read <i>now -- to-night?</i>"
+     "I must put in a good two hours. Where are
+the books that were on my table?"
+     Reverently -- he was indeed a king of men -- she
+took the books down from the shelf, and placed
+them where she had found them. And she knew
+not which thrilled her the more -- the kiss he gave
+her at parting, or the tone in which he told her
+that the one thing he could not and would not
+stand was having his books disturbed.
+     Still less than before attuned to the lugubrious
+session downstairs, she went straight up to her
+attic, and did a little dance there in the dark.
+She threw open the lattice of the dormer-window,
+and leaned out, smiling, throbbing.
+     The Emperors, gazing up, saw her happy, and
+wondered; saw Noaks' ring on her finger, and
+would fain have shaken their grey heads.
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      331
+
+     Presently she was aware of a protrusion from
+the window beneath hers. The head of her be-
+loved! Fondly she watched it, wished she could
+reach down to stroke it. She loved him for hav-
+ing, after all, left his books. It was sweet to be
+his excuse. Should she call softly to him? No, it
+might shame him to be caught truant. He had
+already chidden her for prying. So she did but
+gaze down on his head silently, wondering whether
+in eighteen years it would be bald, wondering
+whether her own hair would still have the fault of
+being golden. Most of all, she wondered whether
+he loved her half so much as she loved him.
+     This happened to be precisely what he himself
+was wondering. Not that he wished himself free.
+He was one of those in whom the will does not,
+except under very great pressure, oppose the con-
+science. What pressure here? Miss Batch was
+a superior girl; she would grace any station in
+life. He had always been rather in awe of her.
+It was a fine thing to be suddenly loved by her,
+to be in a position to over-rule her every whim.
+Plighting his troth, he had feared she would be
+an encumbrance, only to find she was a lever.
+But - -was he deeply in love with her? How was
+it that he could not at this moment recall her fea-
+tures, or the tone of her voice, while of deplorable
+Miss Dobson, every lineament, every accent, so
+vividly haunted him? Try as he would to beat
+off these memories, he failed, and -- some very
+
+
+332      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+great pressure here! -- was glad he failed; glad
+though he found himself relapsing to the self-
+contempt from which Miss Batch had raised him.
+He scorned himself for being alive. And again,
+he scorned himself for his infidelity. Yet he was
+glad he could not forget that face, that voice --
+that queen. She had smiled at him when she
+borrowed the ring. She had said "Thank you."
+Oh, and now, at this very moment, sleeping or
+waking, actually she was somewhere -- she! her-
+self! This was an incredible, an indubitable, an
+all-magical fact for the little fellow.
+     From the street below came a faint cry that
+was as the cry of his own heart, uttered by her
+own lips. Quaking, he peered down, and dimly
+saw, over the way, a cloaked woman.
+     She -- yes, it was she herself -- came gliding to
+the middle of the road, gazing up at him.
+     "At last!" he heard her say. His instinct was
+to hide himself from the queen he had not died
+for. Yet he could not move.
+     "Or," she quavered, "are you a phantom sent
+to mock me? Speak!"
+     "Good evening," he said huskily.
+     "I knew," she murmured, "I knew the gods
+were not so cruel. Oh man of my need," she
+cried, stretching out her arms to him, "oh heaven-
+sent, I see you only as a dark outline against the
+light of your room. But I know you. Your name
+is Noaks, isn't it? Dobson is mine. I am your
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      333
+
+Warden's grand-daughter. I am faint and foot-
+sore. I have ranged this desert city in search
+of -- of <i>you</i>. Let me hear from your own lips that
+you love me. Tell me in your own words --"
+She broke off with a little scream, and did not
+stand with forefinger pointed at him, gazing, gasp-
+ing.
+     "Listen, Miss Dobson," he stammered, writh-
+ing under what he took to be the lash of her irony.
+"Give me time to explain. You see me here --"
+     "Hush," she cried, "man of my greater, my
+deeper and nobler need! Oh hush, ideal which
+not consciously I was out for to-night -- ideal
+vouchsafed to me by a crowning mercy! I sought
+a lover, I find a master. I sought but a live youth,
+was blind to what his survival would betoken.
+Oh master, you think me light and wicked. You
+stare coldly down at me through your spectacles,
+whose glint I faintly discern now that the moon
+peeps forth. You would be readier to forgive
+me the havoc I have wrought if you could for
+the life of you understand what charm your
+friends found in me. You marvel, as at the
+skull of Helen of Troy. No, you don't think
+me hideous: you simply think me plain. There
+was a time when I thought <i>you</i> plain -- you whose
+face, now that the moon shines full on it, is seen
+to be of a beauty that is flawless without being
+insipid. Oh that I were a glove upon that hand,
+that I might touch that cheek! You shudder
+
+
+334      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+at the notion of such contact. My voice grates
+on you. You try to silence me with frantic though
+exquisite gestures, and with noises inarticulate
+but divine. I bow to your will, master. Chasten
+me with your tongue."
+     "I am not what you think me," gibbered
+Noaks. "I was not afraid to die for you. I love
+you. I was on my way to the river this afternoon,
+but I -- I tripped and sprained my ankle, and -- and
+jarred my spine. They carried me back here. I
+am still very weak. I can't put my foot to the
+ground. As soon as I can --"
+     Just then Zuleika heard a little sharp sound
+which, for the fraction of an instant, before she
+knew it to be a clink of metal on the pavement,
+she thought was the breaking of the heart within
+her. Looking quickly down, she heard a shrill
+girlish laugh aloft. Looking quickly up, she
+descried at the unlit window above her lover's a
+face which she remembered as that of the land-
+lady's daughter.
+     "Find it, Miss Dobson," laughed the girl.
+"Crawl for it. It can't have rolled far, and it's
+the only engagement-ring you'll get from <i>him</i>,"
+she said, pointing to the livid face twisted pain-
+fully up at her from the lower window. "Grovel
+for it, Miss Dobson. Ask him to step down and
+help you. Oh, he can! That was all lies about
+his spine and ankle. Afraid, that's what he
+was -- I see it all now -- afraid of the water. I
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      335
+
+wish you'd found him as I did -- skulking behind
+the curtain. Oh, you're welcome to him."
+     "Don't listen," Noaks cried down. "Don't
+listen to that person. I admit I have trifled with
+her affections. This is her revenge -- these wicked
+untruths -- these -- these --"
+     Zuleika silenced him with a gesture. "Your
+tone to me," she said up to Katie, "is not without
+offence; but the stamp of truth is on what you
+tell me. We have both been deceived in this
+man, and are, in some sort, sisters."
+     "Sisters?" cried Katie. "Your sisters are the
+snake and the spider, though neither of them
+wishes it known. I loathe you. And the Duke
+loathed you, too."
+     "What's that?" gasped Zuleika.
+     "Didn't he tell you? He told me. And I war-
+rant he told you, too."
+     "He died for love of me: d'you hear?"
+     "Ah, you'd like people to think so, wouldn't
+you? Does a man who loves a woman give away
+the keepsake she gave him? Look!" Katie
+leaned forward, pointing to her ear-rings. "He
+loved <i>me</i>," she cried. He put them in with his
+own hands -- told me to wear them always. And
+he kissed me -- kissed me good-bye in the street,
+where every one could see. He kissed me," she
+sobbed. "No other man shall ever do that."
+     "Ah, that he did!" said a voice level with
+Zuleika. It was the voice of Mrs. Batch, who
+
+
+336      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+a few moments ago had opened the door for her
+departing guests.
+     "Ah, that he did!" echoed the guests.
+     "Never mind them, Miss Dobson," cried
+Noaks, and at the sound of his voice Mrs. Batch
+rushed into the middle of the road, to gaze up.
+"<i>I</i> love you. Think what you will of me. I --"
+     "You!" flashed Zuleika. "As for you, little
+Sir Lily Liver, leaning out there, and, I frankly
+tell you, looking like nothing so much as a gar-
+goyle hewn by a drunken stone-mason for the
+adornment of a Methodist Chapel in one of the
+vilest suburbs of Leeds or Wigan, I do but felici-
+tate the river-god and his nymphs that their water
+was saved to-day by your cowardice from the con-
+tamination of your plunge."
+     "Shame on you, Mr. Noaks," said Mrs. Batch,
+"making believe you were dead --"
+     "Shame!" screamed Clarence, who had darted
+out into the fray.
+     "I found him hiding behind the curtain,"
+chimed in Katie.
+     "And I a mother to him!" said Mrs. Batch,
+shaking her fist. "'What is life without love?'
+indeed! Oh, the cowardly, underhand --"
+     "Wretch," prompted her cronies.
+     "Let's kick him out of the house!" suggested
+Clarence, dancing for joy.
+     Zuleika, smiling brilliantly down at the boy,
+said "Just you run up and fight him!"
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      337
+
+     "Right you are," he answered, with a look of
+knightly devotion, and darted back into the house.
+     "No escape!" she cried up to Noaks. "You've
+got to fight him now. He and you are just about
+evenly matched, I fancy."
+     But, grimly enough, Zuleika's estimate was
+never put to the test. Is it harder for a coward
+to fight with his fists than to kill himself? Or
+again, is it easier for him to die than to endure
+a prolonged cross-fire of women's wrath and
+scorn? This I know: that in the life of even the
+least and meanest of us there is somewhere one
+fine moment -- one high chance not missed. I like
+to think it was by operation of this law that Noaks
+had now clambered out upon the window-sill,
+silencing, sickening, scattering like chaff the women
+beneath him.
+     He was already not there when Clarence
+bounded into the room. "Come on!" yelled the
+boy, first thrusting his head behind the door, then
+diving beneath the table, then plucking aside either
+window-curtain, vowing vengeance.
+     Vengeance was not his. Down on the road
+without, not yet looked at but by the steadfast
+eyes of the Emperors, the last of the undergradu-
+ates lay dead; and fleet-footed Zuleika, with her
+fingers still pressed to her ears, had taken full toll
+now.
+
+
+XXIII
+
+TWISTING and turning in her flight, with wild eyes
+that fearfully retained the image of that small
+man gathering himself to spring, Zuleika found
+herself suddenly where she could no further go.
+     She was in that grim ravine by which you ap-
+proach New College. At sight of the great shut
+gate before her, she halted, and swerved to the
+wall. She set her brow and the palms of her
+hands against the cold stones. She threw back
+her head, and beat the stones with her fists.
+     It was not only what she had seen, it was what
+she had barely saved herself from seeing, and
+what she had not quite saved herself from hear-
+ing, that she strove so piteously to forget. She
+was sorrier for herself, angrier, than she had been
+last night when the Duke laid hands on her. Why
+should every day have a horrible ending? Last
+night she had avenged herself. To-night's out-
+rage was all the more foul and mean because of
+its certain immunity. And the fact that she had
+in some measure brought it on herself did but whip
+her rage. What a fool she had been to taunt
+the man! Yet no, how could she have foreseen
+that he would -- do <i>that?</i> How could she have
+
+
+338
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      339
+
+guessed that he, who had not dared seemly death
+for her in the gentle river, would dare --
+<i>that?</i>
+     She shuddered the more as she now remem-
+bered that this very day, in that very house, she
+had invited for her very self a similar fate. What
+if the Duke had taken her word? Strange! she
+wouldn't have flinched then. She had felt no
+horror at the notion of such a death. And thus
+she now saw Noaks' conduct in a new light -- saw
+that he had but wished to prove his love, not at
+all to affront her. This understanding quickly
+steadied her nerves. She did not need now to
+forget what she had seen; and, not needing to
+forget it -- thus are our brains fashioned -- she
+was able to forget it.
+     But by removal of one load her soul was but
+bared for a more grievous other. Her memory
+harked back to what had preceded the crisis. She
+recalled those moments of doomed rapture in
+which her heart had soared up to the apoca-
+lyptic window -- recalled how, all the while she was
+speaking to the man there, she had been chafed by
+the inadequacy of language. Oh, how much more
+she had meant than she could express! Oh, the
+ecstasy of that self-surrender! And the brevity
+of it! the sudden odious awakening! Thrice in
+this Oxford she had been duped. Thrice all that
+was fine and sweet in her had leapt forth, only
+to be scourged back into hiding. Poor heart
+
+
+340      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+inhibited! She gazed about her. The stone alley
+she had come into, the terrible shut gate, were for
+her a visible symbol of the destiny she had to put
+up with. Wringing her hands, she hastened along
+the way she had come. She vowed she would
+never again set foot in Oxford. She wished her-
+self out of the hateful little city to-night. She
+even wished herself dead.
+     She deserved to suffer, you say? Maybe. I
+merely state that she did suffer.
+     Emerging into Catherine Street, she knew
+whereabouts she was, and made straight for
+Judas, turning away her eyes as she skirted the
+Broad, that place of mocked hopes and shattered
+ideals.
+     Coming into Judas Street, she remembered the
+scene of yesterday -- the happy man with her, the
+noise of the vast happy crowd. She suffered in
+a worse form what she had suffered in the gallery
+of the Hall. For now -- did I not say she was
+not without imagination? -- her self-pity was
+sharpened by remorse for the hundreds of homes
+robbed. She realised the truth of what the poor
+Duke had once said to her: she was a danger in
+the world . . . Aye, and all the more dire now.
+What if the youth of all Europe were moved by
+Oxford's example? That was a horribly possible
+thing. It must be reckoned with. It must be
+averted. She must not show herself to men. She
+must find some hiding-place, and there abide.
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      341
+
+Were this a hardship? she asked herself. Was
+she not sickened for ever of men's homage? And
+was it not clear now that the absorbing need in
+her soul, the need to love, would never -- except
+for a brief while, now and then, and by an unfor-
+tunate misunderstanding -- be fulfilled?
+     So long ago that you may not remember, I
+compared her favourably with the shepherdess
+Marcella, and pleaded her capacity for passion as
+an excuse for her remaining at large. I hope you
+will now, despite your rather evident animus
+against her, set this to her credit: that she did,
+so soon as she realised the hopelessness of her
+case, make just that decision which I blamed Mar-
+cella for not making at the outset. It was as she
+stood on the Warden's door-step that she decided
+to take the veil.
+     With something of a conventual hush in her
+voice, she said to the butler, "Please tell my maid
+that we are leaving by a very early train to-mor-
+row, and that she must pack my things to-night."
+     "Very well, Miss," said the butler. "The
+Warden," he added, "is in the study, Miss, and
+was asking for you."
+     She could face her grandfather without a
+tremour -- now. She would hear meekly whatever
+reproaches he might have for her, but their sting
+was already drawn by the surprise she had in
+store for him.
+     It was he who seemed a trifle nervous. In his
+
+
+342      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+     "Well, did you come and peep down from the
+gallery?" there was a distinct tremour.
+     Throwing aside her cloak, she went quickly to
+him, and laid a hand on the lapel of his coat.
+"Poor grand-papa!" she said.
+     "Nonsense, my dear child," he replied, disen-
+gaging himself. "I didn't give it a thought. If
+the young men chose to be so silly as to stay away,
+I -- I --"
+     "Grand-papa, haven't you been told <i>yet</i>?"
+     "Told? I am a Gallio for such follies. I
+didn't inquire."
+     "But (forgive me, grand-papa, if I seem to
+you, for the moment, pert) you are Warden here.
+It is your duty, even your privilege, to <i>guard</i>. Is
+it not? Well, I grant you the adage that it is
+useless to bolt the stable door when the horse has
+been stolen. But what shall be said of the ostler
+who doesn't know -- won't even 'inquire' whether
+-- the horse <i>has</i> been stolen, grand-papa?"
+     "You speak in riddles, Zuleika."
+     "I wish with all my heart I need not tell you
+the answers. I think I have a very real grievance
+against your staff -- or whatever it is you call your
+subordinates here. I go so far as to dub them
+dodderers. And I shall the better justify that
+term by not shirking the duty they have left un-
+done. The reason why there were no under-
+graduates in your Hall to-night is that they were
+all dead."
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      343
+
+     "Dead?" he gasped. "Dead? It is disgrace-
+ful that I was not told. What did they die of?"
+     "Of me."
+     "Of you?"
+     "Yes. I am an epidemic, grand-papa, a
+scourge, such as the world has not known. Those
+young men drowned themselves for love of me."
+     He came towards her. "Do you realise, girl,
+what this means to me? I am an old man. For
+more than half a century I have known this Col-
+lege. To it, when my wife died, I gave all that
+there was of heart left in me. For thirty years
+I have been Warden; and in that charge has
+been all my pride. I have had no thought but
+for this great College, its honour and prosperity.
+More than once lately have I asked myself
+whether my eyes were growing dim, my hand less
+steady. 'No' was my answer, and again 'No.'
+And thus it is that I have lingered on to let Judas
+be struck down from its high eminence, shamed
+in the eyes of England -- a College for ever
+tainted, and of evil omen." He raised his head.
+"The disgrace to myself is nothing. I care not
+how parents shall rage against me, and the Heads
+of other Colleges make merry over my decrepi-
+tude. It is because you have wrought the down-
+fall of Judas that I am about to lay my undying
+curse on you."
+     "You mustn't do that!" she cried. "It would
+be a sort of sacrilege. I am going to be a nun.
+
+
+344      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+Besides, why should you? I can quite well under-
+stand your feeling for Judas. But how is Judas
+more disgraced than any other College? If it
+were only the Judas undergraduates who
+had --"
+     "There were others?" cried the Warden. "How
+many?"
+     "All. All the boys from all the Colleges."
+     The Warden heaved a deep sigh. "Of course,"
+he said, "this changes the aspect of the whole
+matter. I wish you had made it clear at once.
+You gave me a very great shock," he said sinking
+into his arm-chair, "and I have not yet recovered.
+You must study the art of exposition."
+     "That will depend on the rules of the convent."
+     "Ah, I forgot that you were going into a con-
+vent. Anglican, I hope?"
+     Anglican, she supposed.
+     "As a young man," he said, "I saw much of
+dear old Dr. Pusey. It might have somewhat
+reconciled him to my marriage if he had known
+that my grand-daughter would take the veil." He
+adjusted his glasses, and looked at her. "Are
+you sure you have a vocation?"
+     "Yes. I want to be out of the world. I want
+to do no more harm."
+     He eyed her musingly. "That," he said, "is
+rather a revulsion than a vocation. I remember
+that I ventured to point out to Dr. Pusey the
+difference between those two things, when he was
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      345
+
+almost persuading me to enter a Brotherhood
+founded by one of his friends. It may be that
+the world would be well rid of you, my dear child.
+But it is not the world only that we must con-
+sider. Would you grace the recesses of the
+Church?"
+     "I could but try," said Zuleika.
+     "'You could but try' are the very words Dr.
+Pusey used to me. I ventured to say that in such
+a matter effort itself was a stigma of unfitness.
+For all my moods of revultion, I knew that my
+place was in the world. I stayed there."
+     "But suppose, grand-papa" -- and, seeing in
+fancy the vast agitated flotilla of crinolines, she
+could not forbear a smile -- "suppose all the young
+ladies of that period had drowned themselves for
+love of you?"
+     Her smile seemed to nettle the Warden. "I
+was greatly admired," he said. "Greatly," he
+repeated.
+     "And you liked that, grand-papa?"
+     "Yes, my dear. Yes, I am afraid I did. But I
+never encouraged it."
+     "Your own heart was never touched?"
+     "Never, until I met Laura Frith."
+     "Who was she?"
+     "She was my future wife."
+     "And how was it you singled her out from the
+rest? Was she very beautiful?"
+     "No. It cannot be said that she was beautiful.
+
+
+346      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+Indeed, she was accounted plain. I think it was
+her great dignity that attracted me. She did not
+smile archly at me, nor shake her ringlets. In
+those days it was the fashion for young ladies to
+embroider slippers for such men in holy orders
+as best pleased their fancy. I received hundreds
+-- thousands -- of such slippers. But never a pair
+from Laura Frith."
+     "She did not love you?" asked Zuleika, who
+had seated herself on the floor at her grand-
+father's feet.
+     I concluded that she did not. It interested
+me very greatly. It fired me."
+     "Was she incapable of love?"
+     "No, it was notorious in her circle that she had
+loved often, but loved in vain."
+     "Why did she marry you?"
+     "I think she was fatigued by my importunities.
+She was not very strong. But it may be that she
+married me out of pique. She never told me. I
+did not inquire."
+     "Yet you were very happy with her?"
+     "While she lived, I was ideally happy."
+     The young woman stretched out a hand, and
+laid it on the clasped hands of the old man. He
+sat gazing into the past. She was silent for a
+while; and in her eyes, still fixed intently on his
+face, there were tears.
+     "Grand-papa dear" -- but there were tears in
+her voice, too.
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      347
+
+     "My child, you don't understand. If I had
+needed pity --"
+     "I do understand -- so well. I wasn't pitying
+you, dear, I was envying you a little."
+     "Me? -- an old man with only the remembrance
+of happiness?"
+     "You, who have had happiness granted to you.
+That isn't what made me cry, though. I cried
+because I was glad. You and I, with all this
+great span of years between us, and yet -- so won-
+derfully alike! I had always thought of myself
+as a creature utterly apart."
+     "Ah, that is how all young people think of
+themselves. It wears off. Tell me about this
+wonderful resemblance of ours."
+     He sat attentive while she described her heart
+to him. But when, at the close of her confidences,
+she said, "So you see it's a case of sheer heredity,
+grand-papa," the word "Fiddlesticks!" would out.
+     "Forgive me, my dear," he said, patting her
+hand. "I was very much interested. But I do
+believe young people are even more staggered
+by themselves than they were in my day. And
+then, all these grand theories they fall back on!
+Heredity. . . as if there were something to baffle
+us in the fact of a young woman liking to be
+admired! And as if it were passing strange of
+her to reserve her heart for a man she can respect
+and look up to! And as if a man's indifference to
+her were not of all things the likeliest to give
+
+
+348      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+her a sense of inferiority to him! You and I,
+my dear, may in some respects be very queer
+people, but in the matter of the affections we are
+ordinary enough."
+     "Oh grand-papa, do you really mean that?"
+she cried eagerly.
+     "At my age, a man husbands his resources.
+He says nothing that he does not really mean.
+The indifference between you and other young
+women is that which lay also between me and
+other young men: a special attractiveness. . .
+Thousands of slippers, did I say? Tens of thous-
+ands. I had hoarded them with a fatuous pride.
+On the evening of my betrothal I made a bonfire
+of them, visible from three counties. I danced
+round it all night." And from his old eyes darted
+even now the reflections of those flames.
+     "Glorious!" whispered Zuleika. "But ah,"
+she said, rising to her feet, "tell me no more of
+it -- poor me! You see, it isn't a mere special at-
+tractiveness that <i>I</i> have. <i>I</i> am irresistible."
+     "A daring statement, my child -- very hard to
+prove."
+     "Hasn't it been proved up to the hilt to-day?"
+     "To-day? . . Ah, and so they did really all
+drown themselves for you? . . Dear, dear! . .
+The Duke -- he, too?"
+     "He set the example."
+     "No! You don't say so! He was a greatly-
+gifted young man -- a true ornament to the Col-
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      349
+
+lege. But he always seemed to me rather -- what
+shall I say? -- inhuman . . . I remember now that
+he did seem rather excited when he came to the
+concert last night and you weren't yet there. . .
+You are quite sure you were the cause of his
+death?"
+     "Quite," said Zuleika, marvelling at the lie --
+or fib, rather: he had been <i>going</i> to die for her.
+But why not have told the truth? Was it possible,
+she wondered, that her wretched vanity had sur-
+vived her renunciation of the world? Why had
+she so resented just now the doubt cast on that
+irresistibility which had blighted and cranked her
+whole life?
+     "Well, my dear," said the Warden, "I confess
+that I am amazed -- astounded." Again he ad-
+justed his glasses, and looked at her.
+     She found herself moving slowly around the
+study, with the gait of a <i>mannequin</i> in a dress-
+maker's show-room. She tried to stop this; but
+her body seemed to be quite beyond control of
+her mind. It had the insolence to go ambling
+on its own account. "Little space you'll have
+in a convent cell," snarled her mind vindictively.
+Her body paid no heed whatever.
+     Her grandfather, leaning back in his chair,
+gazed at the ceiling, and meditatively tapped the
+finger-tips of one hand against those of the other.
+"Sister Zuleika," he presently said to the ceiling.
+     "Well? and what is there so -- so ridiculous
+     
+     
+350      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+in" -- but the rest was lost in trill after trill of
+laughter; and these were then lost in sobs.
+     The Warden had risen from his chair. "My
+dear," he said, "I wasn't laughing. I was only --
+trying to imagine. If you really want to retire
+from --"
+     "I do," moaned Zuleika.
+     "Then perhaps --"
+     "But I don't," she wailed.
+     "Of course, you don't, my dear."
+     "Why, of course?"
+     "Come, you are tired, my poor child. That is
+very natural after this wonderful, this historic
+day. Come dry your eyes. There, that's better.
+To-morrow --"
+     "I do believe you're a little proud of me."
+     "Heaven forgive me, I believe I am. A grand-
+father's heart --  But there, good night, my
+dear. Let me light your candle."
+     She took her cloak, and followed him out to
+the hall table. There she mentioned that she
+was going away early to-morrow.
+     "To the convent?" he slyly asked.
+     "Ah, don't tease me, grand-papa."
+     "Well, I am sorry you are going away, my
+dear. But perhaps, in the circumstances, it is
+best. You must come and stay here again, later
+on," he said, handing her the lit candle. "Not
+in term-time, though," he added.
+     "No," she echoed, "not in term-time."
+
+
+XXIV
+
+FROM the shifting gloom of the stair-case to the
+soft radiance cast through the open door of her
+bedroom was for poor Zuleika an almost heart-
+ening transition. She stood awhile on the thres-
+hold, watching M&eacute;lisande dart to and fro like a
+shuttle across a loom. Already the main part of
+the packing seemed to have been accomplished.
+The wardrobe was a yawning void, the carpet was
+here and there visible, many of the trunks were
+already brimming and foaming over . . . Once
+more on the road! Somewhat as, when beneath
+the stars the great tent had been struck, and the
+lions were growling in their vans, and the horses
+were pawing the stamped grass and whinnying,
+and the elephants trumpeting, Zuleika's mother
+may often have felt within her a wan exhilaration,
+so now did the heart of that mother's child rise
+and flutter amidst the familiar bustle of "being
+off." Weary she was of the world, and angry she
+was at not being, after all, good enough for some-
+thing better. And yet -- well, at least, good-bye
+to Oxford!
+     She envied M&eacute;lisande, so nimbly and cheerfully
+laborious till the day should come when her be-
+
+351
+
+
+352      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+trothed had saved enough to start a little caf&eacute;
+of his own and make her his bride and <i>dame de
+comptoir</i>. Oh, to have a purpose, a prospect, a
+stake in the world, as this faithful soul had!
+     "Can I help you at all, M&eacute;lisande?" she asked,
+picking her way across the strewn floor.
+     M&eacute;lisande, patting down a pile of chiffon,
+seemed to be amused at such a notion. "Made-
+moiselle has her own art. Do I mix myself in
+that?" she cried, waving one hand towards the
+great malachite casket.
+     Zuleika looked at the casket, and then very
+gratefully at the maid. Her art -- how had she
+forgotten that? Here was solace, purpose. She
+would work as she had never worked yet. She
+<i>knew</i> that she had it in her to do better than she
+had ever done. She confessed to herself that
+she had too often been slack in the matter of
+practice and rehearsal, trusting her personal mag-
+netism to carry her through. Only last night
+she had badly fumbled, more than once. Her
+bravura business with the Demon Egg-Cup had
+been simply vile. The audience hadn't noticed it,
+perhaps, but she had. Now she would perfect
+herself. Barely a fortnight now before her en-
+gagement at the Folies Berg&egrave;res! What if -- no,
+she must not think of that! But the thought in-
+sisted. What if she essayed for Paris that which
+again and again she had meant to graft on to her
+repertory -- the Provoking Thimble?
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      353
+
+     She flushed at the possibility. What if her
+whole present repertory were but a passing phase
+in her art -- a mere beginning -- an earlier man-
+ner? She remembered how marvellously last
+night she had manipulated the ear-rings and the
+studs. Then lo! the light died out of her eyes,
+and her face grew rigid. That memory had
+brought other memories in its wake.
+     For her, when she fled the Broad, Noaks' win-
+dow had blotted out all else. Now she saw again
+that higher window, saw that girl flaunting her
+ear-rings, gibing down at her. "He put them in
+with his own hands!" -- the words rang again in
+her ears, making her cheeks tingle. Oh, he had
+thought it a very clever thing to do, no doubt --
+a splendid little revenge, something after his own
+heart! "And he kissed me in the open street" --
+excellent, excellent! She ground her teeth. And
+these doings must have been fresh in his mind
+when she overtook him and walked with him to
+the house-boat! Infamous! And she had then
+been wearing his studs! She drew his attention
+to them when --
+     Her jewel-box stood open, to receive the jewels
+she wore to-night. She went very calmly to it.
+There, in a corner of the topmost tray, rested the
+two great white pearls -- the pearls which, in one
+way and another, had meant so much to her.
+     "M&eacute;lisande!"
+     "Mademoiselle?"
+
+
+354      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+     "When we go to Paris, would you like to make
+a little present to your fianc&eacute;?"
+     "Je voudrais bien, mademoiselle."
+     "Then you shall give him these," said Zuleika,
+holding out the two studs.
+     "Mais jamais de la vie! Chez Tourtel tout
+le monde le dirait millionaire. Un gar&ccedil;on de caf&eacute;
+qui porte au plastron des perles pareilles --
+merci!"
+     Tell him he may tell every one that they
+were given to me by the late Duke of Dorset,
+and given by me to you, and by you to him."
+     "Mais --"  The protest died on M&eacute;lisande's
+lips. Suddenly she had ceased to see the pearls
+as trinkets finite and inapposite -- saw them as
+things presently transmutable into little marble
+tables, bocks, dominos, absinthes au sucre, shiny
+black portfolios with weekly journals in them,
+yellow staves with daily journals flapping from
+them, vermouths sec, vermouths cassis . . .
+     "Mademoiselle is too amiable," she said, tak-
+ing the pearls.
+     And certainly, just then, Zuleika was looking
+very amiable indeed. The look was transient.
+Nothing, she reflected, could undo what the Duke
+had done. That hateful, impudent girl would
+take good care that every one should know. "He
+put them in with his own hands." <i>Her</i> ear-rings!
+"He kissed me in the public street. He loved
+me". . . Well, he had called out "Zuleika!"
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      355
+
+and every one around had heard him. That was
+something. But how glad all the old women
+in the world would be to shake their heads and
+say "Oh, no, my dear, believe me! It wasn't
+anything to do with <i>her</i>. I'm told on the very best
+authority," and so forth, and so on. She knew he
+had told any number of undergraduates he was
+going to die for her. But they, poor fellows,
+could not bear witness. And good heavens! If
+there were a doubt as to the Duke's motive, why
+not doubts as to theirs? . . But many of them
+had called out "Zuleika!" too. And of course any
+really impartial person who knew anything at
+all about the matter at first hand would be sure
+in his own mind that it was perfectly absurd to
+pretend that the whole thing wasn't entirely and
+absolutely for her . . . And of course some of
+the men must have left written evidence of their
+intention. She remembered that at The Mac-
+Quern's to-day was a Mr. Craddock, who had
+made a will in her favour and wanted to read it
+aloud to her in the middle of luncheon. Oh,
+there would be proof positive as to many of the
+men. But of the others it would be said that they
+died in trying to rescue their comrades. There
+would be all sorts of silly far-fetched theories,
+and downright lies that couldn't be disproved. . .
+     "M&eacute;lisande, that crackling of tissue paper is
+driving me mad! Do leave off! Can't you see
+that I am waiting to be undressed?"
+
+
+356      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+     The maid hastened to her side, and with quick
+light fingers began to undress her. "Made-
+moiselle va bien dormir -- ca se voit," she purred.
+     "I shan't," said Zuleika.
+     Nevertheless, it was soothing to be undressed,
+and yet more soothing anon to sit merely night-
+gowned before the mirror, while, slowly and
+gently, strongly and strand by strand, M&eacute;lisande
+brushed her hair.
+     After all, it didn't so much matter what the
+world thought. Let the world whisper and insinu-
+ate what it would. To slur and sully, to belittle
+and drag down -- that was what the world always
+tried to do. But great things were still great,
+and fair things still fair. With no thought for the
+world's opinion had these men gone down to the
+water to-day. Their deed was for her and them-
+selves alone. It had sufficed them. Should it
+not suffice her? It did, oh it did. She was a
+wretch to have repined.
+     At a gesture from her, M&eacute;lisande brought to a
+close the rhythmical ministrations, and -- using
+no tissue paper this time -- did what was yet to
+be done among the trunks.
+     "<i>We</i> know, you and I," Zuleika whispered to
+the adorable creature in the mirror; and the
+adorable creature gave back her nod and smile.
+     <i>They</i> knew, these two.
+     Yet, in their happiness, rose and floated a
+shadow between them. It was the ghost of that
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON      357
+
+one man who -- <i>they</i> knew -- had died irrelevantly,
+with a cold heart.
+     Came also the horrid little ghost of one who
+had died late and unseemly.
+     And now, thick and fast, swept a whole multi-
+tude of other ghosts, the ghosts of all them who,
+being dead, could not die again; the poor ghosts
+of them who had done what they could, and could
+do no more.
+     No more? Was it not enough? The lady in
+the mirror gazed at the lady in the room, re-
+proachfully at first, then -- for were they not sis-
+ters? -- relentingly, then pityingly. Each of the
+two covered her face with her hands.
+     And there recurred, as by stealth, to the lady in
+the room a thought that had assailed her not long
+ago in Judas Street . . . a thought about the
+power of example . . .
+     And now, with pent breath and fast-beating
+heart, she stood staring at the lady of the mirror,
+without seeing her; and now she wheeled round
+and swiftly glided to that little table on which
+stood her two books. She snatched Bradshaw.
+     We always intervene between Bradshaw and
+any one whom we see consulting him. "Made-
+moiselle will permit me to find that which she
+seeks?" asked M&eacute;lisande.
+     "Be quiet," said Zuleika. We always repulse,
+at first, any one who intervenes between us and
+Bradshaw.
+
+
+358      ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+     We always end by accepting the intervention.
+"See if it is possible to go direct from here to
+Cambridge," said Zuleika, handing the book on.
+"If it isn't, then -- well, see how one <i>does</i> get
+there."
+     We never have any confidence in the intervener.
+Nor is the intervener, when it comes to the point,
+sanguine. With mistrust mounting to exasper-
+ation Zuleika sat watching the faint and frantic
+researches of her maid.
+     "Stop!" she said suddenly. "I have a much
+better idea. Go down very early to the station.
+See the station-master. Order me a special train.
+For ten o'clock, say."
+     Rising, she stretched her arms above her head.
+Her lips parted in a yawn, met in a smile. With
+both hands she pushed back her hair from her
+shoulders, and twisted it into a loose knot. Very
+lightly she slipped up into bed, and very soon she
+was asleep.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of Zuleika Dobson, by Max Beerbohm*
+
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+The Project Gutenberg Etext of Zuleika Dobson, by Max Beerbohm
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+Zuleika Dobson
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+This Etext prepared by Judy Boss, of Omaha, NE
+
+
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON
+OR AN OXFORD LOVE STORY
+
+by
+Max Beerbohm
+
+
+
+
+
+         NOTE to the 1922 edition
+
+         I was in Italy when this book was first published.
+         A year later (1912) I visited London, and I found
+         that most of my friends and acquaintances spoke to
+         me of Zu-like-a -- a name which I hardly recognised
+         and thoroughly disapproved. I had always thought
+         of the lady as Zu-leek-a. Surely it was thus that
+         Joseph thought of his Wife, and Selim of his Bride?
+         And I do hope that it is thus that any reader of
+         these pages will think of Miss Dobson.
+
+                                              M.B.
+                                              Rapallo, 1922.
+
+
+
+
+ILLI ALMAE MATRI
+
+
+
+
+
+ZULEIKA DOBSON
+
+
+I
+
+That old bell, presage of a train, had just sounded through Oxford
+station; and the undergraduates who were waiting there, gay figures
+in tweed or flannel, moved to the margin of the platform and gazed
+idly up the line. Young and careless, in the glow of the afternoon
+sunshine, they struck a sharp note of incongruity with the worn boards
+they stood on, with the fading signals and grey eternal walls of that
+antique station, which, familiar to them and insignificant, does yet
+whisper to the tourist the last enchantments of the Middle Age.
+
+At the door of the first-class waiting-room, aloof and venerable,
+stood the Warden of Judas. An ebon pillar of tradition seemed he, in
+his garb of old-fashioned cleric. Aloft, between the wide brim of his
+silk hat and the white extent of his shirt-front, appeared those eyes
+which hawks, that nose which eagles, had often envied. He supported
+his years on an ebon stick. He alone was worthy of the background.
+
+Came a whistle from the distance. The breast of an engine was
+descried, and a long train curving after it, under a flight of smoke.
+It grew and grew. Louder and louder, its noise foreran it. It became a
+furious, enormous monster, and, with an instinct for safety, all men
+receded from the platform's margin. (Yet came there with it, unknown
+to them, a danger far more terrible than itself.)  Into the station it
+came blustering, with cloud and clangour. Ere it had yet stopped, the
+door of one carriage flew open, and from it, in a white travelling
+dress, in a toque a-twinkle with fine diamonds, a lithe and radiant
+creature slipped nimbly down to the platform.
+
+A cynosure indeed! A hundred eyes were fixed on her, and half as many
+hearts lost to her. The Warden of Judas himself had mounted on his
+nose a pair of black-rimmed glasses. Him espying, the nymph darted in
+his direction. The throng made way for her. She was at his side.
+
+"Grandpapa!" she cried, and kissed the old man on either cheek. (Not a
+youth there but would have bartered fifty years of his future for that
+salute.)
+
+"My dear Zuleika," he said, "welcome to Oxford! Have you no luggage?"
+
+"Heaps!" she answered. "And a maid who will find it."
+
+"Then," said the Warden, "let us drive straight to College." He
+offered her his arm, and they proceeded slowly to the entrance. She
+chatted gaily, blushing not in the long avenue of eyes she passed
+through. All the youths, under her spell, were now quite oblivious of
+the relatives they had come to meet. Parents, sisters, cousins, ran
+unclaimed about the platform. Undutiful, all the youths were forming a
+serried suite to their enchantress. In silence they followed her. They
+saw her leap into the Warden's landau, they saw the Warden seat
+himself upon her left. Nor was it until the landau was lost to sight
+that they turned--how slowly, and with how bad a grace!--to look for
+their relatives.
+
+Through those slums which connect Oxford with the world, the landau
+rolled on towards Judas. Not many youths occurred, for nearly all--it
+was the Monday of Eights Week--were down by the river, cheering the
+crews. There did, however, come spurring by, on a polo-pony, a very
+splendid youth. His straw hat was encircled with a riband of blue and
+white, and he raised it to the Warden.
+
+"That," said the Warden, "is the Duke of Dorset, a member of my
+College. He dines at my table to-night."
+
+Zuleika, turning to regard his Grace, saw that he had not reined in
+and was not even glancing back at her over his shoulder. She gave a
+little start of dismay, but scarcely had her lips pouted ere they
+curved to a smile--a smile with no malice in its corners.
+
+As the landau rolled into "the Corn," another youth--a pedestrian, and
+very different--saluted the Warden. He wore a black jacket, rusty and
+amorphous. His trousers were too short, and he himself was too short:
+almost a dwarf. His face was as plain as his gait was undistinguished.
+He squinted behind spectacles.
+
+"And who is that?" asked Zuleika.
+
+A deep flush overspread the cheek of the Warden. "That," he said, "is
+also a member of Judas. His name, I believe, is Noaks."
+
+"Is he dining with us to-night?" asked Zuleika.
+
+"Certainly not," said the Warden. "Most decidedly not."
+
+Noaks, unlike the Duke, had stopped for an ardent retrospect. He gazed
+till the landau was out of his short sight; then, sighing, resumed his
+solitary walk.
+
+The landau was rolling into "the Broad," over that ground which had
+once blackened under the fagots lit for Latimer and Ridley. It rolled
+past the portals of Balliol and of Trinity, past the Ashmolean. From
+those pedestals which intersperse the railing of the Sheldonian, the
+high grim busts of the Roman Emperors stared down at the fair stranger
+in the equipage. Zuleika returned their stare with but a casual
+glance. The inanimate had little charm for her.
+
+A moment later, a certain old don emerged from Blackwell's, where he
+had been buying books. Looking across the road, he saw, to his
+amazement, great beads of perspiration glistening on the brows of
+those Emperors. He trembled, and hurried away. That evening, in Common
+Room, he told what he had seen; and no amount of polite scepticism
+would convince him that it was but the hallucination of one who had
+been reading too much Mommsen. He persisted that he had seen what he
+described. It was not until two days had elapsed that some credence
+was accorded him.
+
+Yes, as the landau rolled by, sweat started from the brows of the
+Emperors. They, at least, foresaw the peril that was overhanging
+Oxford, and they gave such warning as they could. Let that be
+remembered to their credit. Let that incline us to think more gently
+of them. In their lives we know, they were infamous, some of them--
+"nihil non commiserunt stupri, saevitiae, impietatis." But are they
+too little punished, after all? Here in Oxford, exposed eternally and
+inexorably to heat and frost, to the four winds that lash them and the
+rains that wear them away, they are expiating, in effigy, the
+abominations of their pride and cruelty and lust. Who were lechers,
+they are without bodies; who were tyrants, they are crowned never but
+with crowns of snow; who made themselves even with the gods, they are
+by American visitors frequently mistaken for the Twelve Apostles. It
+is but a little way down the road that the two Bishops perished for
+their faith, and even now we do never pass the spot without a tear for
+them. Yet how quickly they died in the flames! To these Emperors, for
+whom none weeps, time will give no surcease. Surely, it is sign of
+some grace in them that they rejoiced not, this bright afternoon, in
+the evil that was to befall the city of their penance.
+
+
+
+II
+
+The sun streamed through the bay-window of a "best" bedroom in the
+Warden's house, and glorified the pale crayon-portraits on the wall,
+the dimity curtains, the old fresh chintz. He invaded the many trunks
+which--all painted Z. D.--gaped, in various stages of excavation,
+around the room. The doors of the huge wardrobe stood, like the doors
+of Janus' temple in time of war, majestically open; and the sun seized
+this opportunity of exploring the mahogany recesses. But the carpet,
+which had faded under his immemorial visitations, was now almost
+ENTIRELY hidden from him, hidden under layers of fair fine linen,
+layers of silk, brocade, satin, chiffon, muslin. All the colours of
+the rainbow, materialised by modistes, were there. Stacked on chairs
+were I know not what of sachets, glove-cases, fan-cases. There were
+innumerable packages in silver-paper and pink ribands. There was a
+pyramid of bandboxes. There was a virgin forest of boot-trees. And
+rustling quickly hither and thither, in and out of this profusion,
+with armfuls of finery, was an obviously French maid. Alert, unerring,
+like a swallow she dipped and darted. Nothing escaped her, and she
+never rested. She had the air of the born unpacker--swift and firm,
+yet withal tender. Scarce had her arms been laden but their loads were
+lying lightly between shelves or tightly in drawers. To calculate,
+catch, distribute, seemed in her but a single process. She was one of
+those who are born to make chaos cosmic.
+
+Insomuch that ere the loud chapel-clock tolled another hour all the
+trunks had been sent empty away. The carpet was unflecked by any scrap
+of silver-paper. From the mantelpiece, photographs of Zuleika surveyed
+the room with a possessive air. Zuleika's pincushion, a-bristle with
+new pins, lay on the dimity-flounced toilet-table, and round it stood
+a multitude of multiform glass vessels, domed, all of them, with dull
+gold, on which Z. D., in zianites and diamonds, was encrusted. On a
+small table stood a great casket of malachite, initialled in like
+fashion. On another small table stood Zuleika's library. Both books
+were in covers of dull gold. On the back of one cover BRADSHAW, in
+beryls, was encrusted; on the back of the other, A.B.C. GUIDE, in
+amethysts, beryls, chrysoprases, and garnets. And Zuleika's great
+cheval-glass stood ready to reflect her. Always it travelled with her,
+in a great case specially made for it. It was framed in ivory, and of
+fluted ivory were the slim columns it swung between. Of gold were its
+twin sconces, and four tall tapers stood in each of them.
+
+The door opened, and the Warden, with hospitable words, left his
+grand-daughter at the threshold.
+
+Zuleika wandered to her mirror. "Undress me, Melisande," she said.
+Like all who are wont to appear by night before the public, she had
+the habit of resting towards sunset.
+
+Presently Melisande withdrew. Her mistress, in a white peignoir tied
+with a blue sash, lay in a great chintz chair, gazing out of the
+bay-window. The quadrangle below was very beautiful, with its walls of
+rugged grey, its cloisters, its grass carpet. But to her it was of no
+more interest than if it had been the rattling court-yard to one of
+those hotels in which she spent her life. She saw it, but heeded it
+not. She seemed to be thinking of herself, or of something she
+desired, or of some one she had never met. There was ennui, and there
+was wistfulness, in her gaze. Yet one would have guessed these things
+to be transient--to be no more than the little shadows that sometimes
+pass between a bright mirror and the brightness it reflects.
+
+Zuleika was not strictly beautiful. Her eyes were a trifle large, and
+their lashes longer than they need have been. An anarchy of small
+curls was her chevelure, a dark upland of misrule, every hair
+asserting its rights over a not discreditable brow. For the rest, her
+features were not at all original. They seemed to have been derived
+rather from a gallimaufry of familiar models. From Madame la Marquise
+de Saint-Ouen came the shapely tilt of the nose. The mouth was a mere
+replica of Cupid's bow, lacquered scarlet and strung with the littlest
+pearls. No apple-tree, no wall of peaches, had not been robbed, nor
+any Tyrian rose-garden, for the glory of Miss Dobson's cheeks. Her
+neck was imitation-marble. Her hands and feet were of very mean
+proportions. She had no waist to speak of.
+
+Yet, though a Greek would have railed at her asymmetry, and an
+Elizabethan have called her "gipsy," Miss Dobson now, in the midst of
+the Edvardian Era, was the toast of two hemispheres. Late in her
+'teens she had become an orphan and a governess. Her grandfather had
+refused her appeal for a home or an allowance, on the ground that he
+would not be burdened with the upshot of a marriage which he had once
+forbidden and not yet forgiven. Lately, however, prompted by curiosity
+or by remorse, he had asked her to spend a week or so of his declining
+years with him. And she, "resting" between two engagements--one at
+Hammerstein's Victoria, N.Y.C., the other at the Folies Bergeres,
+Paris--and having never been in Oxford, had so far let bygones be
+bygones as to come and gratify the old man's whim.
+
+It may be that she still resented his indifference to those early
+struggles which, even now, she shuddered to recall. For a governess'
+life she had been, indeed, notably unfit. Hard she had thought it,
+that penury should force her back into the school-room she was scarce
+out of, there to champion the sums and maps and conjugations she had
+never tried to master. Hating her work, she had failed signally to
+pick up any learning from her little pupils, and had been driven from
+house to house, a sullen and most ineffectual maiden. The sequence of
+her situations was the swifter by reason of her pretty face. Was there
+a grown-up son, always he fell in love with her, and she would let his
+eyes trifle boldly with hers across the dinner-table. When he offered
+her his hand, she would refuse it--not because she "knew her place,"
+but because she did not love him. Even had she been a good teacher,
+her presence could not have been tolerated thereafter. Her corded
+trunk, heavier by another packet of billets-doux and a month's salary
+in advance, was soon carried up the stairs of some other house.
+
+It chanced that she came, at length, to be governess in a large family
+that had Gibbs for its name and Notting Hill for its background.
+Edward, the eldest son, was a clerk in the city, who spent his
+evenings in the practice of amateur conjuring. He was a freckled
+youth, with hair that bristled in places where it should have lain
+smooth, and he fell in love with Zuleika duly, at first sight, during
+high-tea. In the course of the evening, he sought to win her
+admiration by a display of all his tricks. These were familiar to this
+household, and the children had been sent to bed, the mother was
+dozing, long before the seance was at an end. But Miss Dobson,
+unaccustomed to any gaieties, sat fascinated by the young man's
+sleight of hand, marvelling that a top-hat could hold so many
+goldfish, and a handkerchief turn so swiftly into a silver florin. All
+that night, she lay wide awake, haunted by the miracles he had
+wrought. Next evening, when she asked him to repeat them, "Nay," he
+whispered, "I cannot bear to deceive the girl I love. Permit me to
+explain the tricks." So he explained them. His eyes sought hers across
+the bowl of gold-fish, his fingers trembled as he taught her to
+manipulate the magic canister. One by one, she mastered the paltry
+secrets. Her respect for him waned with every revelation. He
+complimented her on her skill. "I could not do it more neatly myself!"
+he said. "Oh, dear Miss Dobson, will you but accept my hand, all these
+things shall be yours--the cards, the canister, the goldfish, the
+demon egg-cup--all yours!" Zuleika, with ravishing coyness, answered
+that if he would give her them now, she would "think it over." The
+swain consented, and at bed-time she retired with the gift under her
+arm. In the light of her bedroom candle Marguerite hung not in greater
+ecstasy over the jewel-casket than hung Zuleika over the box of
+tricks. She clasped her hands over the tremendous possibilities it
+held for her--manumission from her bondage, wealth, fame, power.
+Stealthily, so soon as the house slumbered, she packed her small
+outfit, embedding therein the precious gift. Noiselessly, she shut the
+lid of her trunk, corded it, shouldered it, stole down the stairs with
+it. Outside--how that chain had grated! and her shoulder, how it was
+aching!--she soon found a cab. She took a night's sanctuary in some
+railway-hotel. Next day, she moved into a small room in a lodging-
+house off the Edgware Road, and there for a whole week she was
+sedulous in the practice of her tricks. Then she inscribed her name on
+the books of a "Juvenile Party Entertainments Agency."
+
+The Christmas holidays were at hand, and before long she got an
+engagement. It was a great evening for her. Her repertory was, it must
+be confessed, old and obvious; but the children, in deference to their
+hostess, pretended not to know how the tricks were done, and assumed
+their prettiest airs of wonder and delight. One of them even pretended
+to be frightened, and was led howling from the room. In fact, the
+whole thing went off splendidly. The hostess was charmed, and told
+Zuleika that a glass of lemonade would be served to her in the hall.
+Other engagements soon followed. Zuleika was very, very happy. I
+cannot claim for her that she had a genuine passion for her art. The
+true conjurer finds his guerdon in the consciousness of work done
+perfectly and for its own sake. Lucre and applause are not necessary
+to him. If he were set down, with the materials of his art, on a
+desert island, he would yet be quite happy. He would not cease to
+produce the barber's-pole from his mouth. To the indifferent winds he
+would still speak his patter, and even in the last throes of
+starvation would not eat his live rabbit or his gold-fish. Zuleika, on
+a desert island, would have spent most of her time in looking for a
+man's foot-print. She was, indeed, far too human a creature to care
+much for art. I do not say that she took her work lightly. She thought
+she had genius, and she liked to be told that this was so. But mainly
+she loved her work as a means of mere self-display. The frank
+admiration which, into whatsoever house she entered, the grown-up sons
+flashed on her; their eagerness to see her to the door; their
+impressive way of putting her into her omnibus--these were the things
+she revelled in. She was a nymph to whom men's admiration was the
+greater part of life. By day, whenever she went into the streets, she
+was conscious that no man passed her without a stare; and this
+consciousness gave a sharp zest to her outings. Sometimes she was
+followed to her door--crude flattery which she was too innocent to
+fear. Even when she went into the haberdasher's to make some little
+purchase of tape or riband, or into the grocer's--for she was an
+epicure in her humble way--to buy a tin of potted meat for her supper,
+the homage of the young men behind the counter did flatter and
+exhilarate her. As the homage of men became for her, more and more, a
+matter of course, the more subtly necessary was it to her happiness.
+The more she won of it, the more she treasured it. She was alone in
+the world, and it saved her from any moment of regret that she had
+neither home nor friends. For her the streets that lay around her had
+no squalor, since she paced them always in the gold nimbus of her
+fascinations. Her bedroom seemed not mean nor lonely to her, since the
+little square of glass, nailed above the wash-stand, was ever there to
+reflect her face. Thereinto, indeed, she was ever peering. She would
+droop her head from side to side, she would bend it forward and see
+herself from beneath her eyelashes, then tilt it back and watch
+herself over her supercilious chin. And she would smile, frown, pout,
+languish--let all the emotions hover upon her face; and always she
+seemed to herself lovelier than she had ever been.
+
+Yet was there nothing Narcissine in her spirit. Her love for her own
+image was not cold aestheticism. She valued that image not for its own
+sake, but for sake of the glory it always won for her. In the little
+remote music-hall, where she was soon appearing nightly as an "early
+turn," she reaped glory in a nightly harvest. She could feel that all
+the gallery-boys, because of her, were scornful of the sweethearts
+wedged between them, and she knew that she had but to say "Will any
+gentleman in the audience be so good as to lend me his hat?" for the
+stalls to rise as one man and rush towards the platform. But greater
+things were in store for her. She was engaged at two halls in the West
+End. Her horizon was fast receding and expanding. Homage became
+nightly tangible in bouquets, rings, brooches--things acceptable and
+(luckier than their donors) accepted. Even Sunday was not barren for
+Zuleika: modish hostesses gave her postprandially to their guests.
+Came that Sunday night, notanda candidissimo calculo! when she
+received certain guttural compliments which made absolute her vogue
+and enabled her to command, thenceforth, whatever terms she asked for.
+
+Already, indeed, she was rich. She was living at the most exorbitant
+hotel in all Mayfair. She had innumerable gowns and no necessity to
+buy jewels; and she also had, which pleased her most, the fine cheval-
+glass I have described. At the close of the Season, Paris claimed her
+for a month's engagement. Paris saw her and was prostrate. Boldini did
+a portrait of her. Jules Bloch wrote a song about her; and this, for a
+whole month, was howled up and down the cobbled alleys of Montmartre.
+And all the little dandies were mad for "la Zuleika." The jewellers of
+the Rue de la Paix soon had nothing left to put in their windows--
+everything had been bought for "la Zuleika." For a whole month,
+baccarat was not played at the Jockey Club--every member had succumbed
+to a nobler passion. For a whole month, the whole demi-monde was
+forgotten for one English virgin. Never, even in Paris, had a woman
+triumphed so. When the day came for her departure, the city wore such
+an air of sullen mourning as it had not worn since the Prussians
+marched to its Elysee. Zuleika, quite untouched, would not linger in
+the conquered city. Agents had come to her from every capital in
+Europe, and, for a year, she ranged, in triumphal nomady, from one
+capital to another. In Berlin, every night, the students escorted her
+home with torches. Prince Vierfuenfsechs-Siebenachtneun offered her
+his hand, and was condemned by the Kaiser to six months' confinement
+in his little castle. In Yildiz Kiosk, the tyrant who still throve
+there conferred on her the Order of Chastity, and offered her the
+central couch in his seraglio. She gave her performance in the
+Quirinal, and, from the Vatican, the Pope launched against her a Bull
+which fell utterly flat. In Petersburg, the Grand Duke Salamander
+Salamandrovitch fell enamoured of her. Of every article in the
+apparatus of her conjuring-tricks he caused a replica to be made in
+finest gold. These treasures he presented to her in that great
+malachite casket which now stood on the little table in her room; and
+thenceforth it was with these that she performed her wonders. They did
+not mark the limit of the Grand Duke's generosity. He was for
+bestowing on Zuleika the half of his immensurable estates. The Grand
+Duchess appealed to the Tzar. Zuleika was conducted across the
+frontier, by an escort of love-sick Cossacks. On the Sunday before she
+left Madrid, a great bull-fight was held in her honour. Fifteen bulls
+received the coup-de-grace, and Alvarez, the matador of matadors, died
+in the arena with her name on his lips. He had tried to kill the last
+bull without taking his eyes off la divina senorita. A prettier
+compliment had never been paid her, and she was immensely pleased with
+it. For that matter, she was immensely pleased with everything. She
+moved proudly to the incessant music of a paean, aye! of a paean that
+was always crescendo.
+
+Its echoes followed her when she crossed the Atlantic, till they were
+lost in the louder, deeper, more blatant paean that rose for her from
+the shores beyond. All the stops of that "mighty organ, many-piped,"
+the New York press, were pulled out simultaneously, as far as they
+could be pulled, in Zuleika's honour. She delighted in the din. She
+read every line that was printed about her, tasting her triumph as she
+had never tasted it before. And how she revelled in the Brobdingnagian
+drawings of her, which, printed in nineteen colours, towered between
+the columns or sprawled across them! There she was, measuring herself
+back to back with the Statue of Liberty; scudding through the
+firmament on a comet, whilst a crowd of tiny men in evening-dress
+stared up at her from the terrestrial globe; peering through a
+microscope held by Cupid over a diminutive Uncle Sam; teaching the
+American Eagle to stand on its head; and doing a hundred-and-one other
+things--whatever suggested itself to the fancy of native art. And
+through all this iridescent maze of symbolism were scattered many
+little slabs of realism. At home, on the street, Zuleika was the
+smiling target of all snap-shooters, and all the snap-shots were
+snapped up by the press and reproduced with annotations: Zuleika
+Dobson walking on Broadway in the sables gifted her by Grand Duke
+Salamander--she says "You can bounce blizzards in them"; Zuleika
+Dobson yawning over a love-letter from millionaire Edelweiss;
+relishing a cup of clam-broth--she says "They don't use clams out
+there"; ordering her maid to fix her a warm bath; finding a split in
+the gloves she has just drawn on before starting for the musicale
+given in her honour by Mrs. Suetonius X. Meistersinger, the most
+exclusive woman in New York; chatting at the telephone to Miss Camille
+Van Spook, the best-born girl in New York; laughing over the
+recollection of a compliment made her by George Abimelech Post, the
+best-groomed man in New York; meditating a new trick; admonishing a
+waiter who has upset a cocktail over her skirt; having herself
+manicured; drinking tea in bed. Thus was Zuleika enabled daily to be,
+as one might say, a spectator of her own wonderful life. On her
+departure from New York, the papers spoke no more than the truth when
+they said she had had "a lovely time." The further she went West--
+millionaire Edelweiss had loaned her his private car--the lovelier her
+time was. Chicago drowned the echoes of New York; final Frisco dwarfed
+the headlines of Chicago. Like one of its own prairie-fires, she swept
+the country from end to end. Then she swept back, and sailed for
+England. She was to return for a second season in the coming Fall. At
+present, she was, as I have said, "resting."
+
+As she sat here in the bay-window of her room, she was not reviewing
+the splendid pageant of her past. She was a young person whose
+reveries never were in retrospect. For her the past was no treasury of
+distinct memories, all hoarded and classified, some brighter than
+others and more highly valued. All memories were for her but as the
+motes in one fused radiance that followed her and made more luminous
+the pathway of her future. She was always looking forward. She was
+looking forward now--that shade of ennui had passed from her face--to
+the week she was to spend in Oxford. A new city was a new toy to her,
+and--for it was youth's homage that she loved best--this city of
+youths was a toy after her own heart.
+
+Aye, and it was youths who gave homage to her most freely. She was of
+that high-stepping and flamboyant type that captivates youth most
+surely. Old men and men of middle age admired her, but she had not
+that flower-like quality of shyness and helplessness, that look of
+innocence, so dear to men who carry life's secrets in their heads. Yet
+Zuleika WAS very innocent, really. She was as pure as that young
+shepherdess Marcella, who, all unguarded, roved the mountains and was
+by all the shepherds adored. Like Marcella, she had given her heart to
+no man, had preferred none. Youths were reputed to have died for love
+of her, as Chrysostom died for love of the shepherdess; and she, like
+the shepherdess, had shed no tear. When Chrysostom was lying on his
+bier in the valley, and Marcella looked down from the high rock,
+Ambrosio, the dead man's comrade, cried out on her, upbraiding her
+with bitter words--"Oh basilisk of our mountains!" Nor do I think
+Ambrosio spoke too strongly. Marcella cared nothing for men's
+admiration, and yet, instead of retiring to one of those nunneries
+which are founded for her kind, she chose to rove the mountains,
+causing despair to all the shepherds. Zuleika, with her peculiar
+temperament, would have gone mad in a nunnery. "But," you may argue,
+"ought not she to have taken the veil, even at the cost of her reason,
+rather than cause so much despair in the world? If Marcella was a
+basilisk, as you seem to think, how about Miss Dobson?" Ah, but
+Marcella knew quite well, boasted even, that she never would or could
+love any man. Zuleika, on the other hand, was a woman of really
+passionate fibre. She may not have had that conscious, separate, and
+quite explicit desire to be a mother with which modern playwrights
+credit every unmated member of her sex. But she did know that she
+could love. And, surely, no woman who knows that of herself can be
+rightly censured for not recluding herself from the world: it is only
+women without the power to love who have no right to provoke men's
+love.
+
+Though Zuleika had never given her heart, strong in her were the
+desire and the need that it should be given. Whithersoever she had
+fared, she had seen nothing but youths fatuously prostrate to her--not
+one upright figure which she could respect. There were the middle-aged
+men, the old men, who did not bow down to her; but from middle-age, as
+from eld, she had a sanguine aversion. She could love none but a
+youth. Nor--though she herself, womanly, would utterly abase herself
+before her ideal--could she love one who fell prone before her. And
+before her all youths always did fall prone. She was an empress, and
+all youths were her slaves. Their bondage delighted her, as I have
+said. But no empress who has any pride can adore one of her slaves.
+Whom, then, could proud Zuleika adore? It was a question which
+sometimes troubled her. There were even moments when, looking into her
+cheval-glass, she cried out against that arrangement in comely lines
+and tints which got for her the dulia she delighted in. To be able to
+love once--would not that be better than all the homage in the world?
+But would she ever meet whom, looking up to him, she could love--she,
+the omnisubjugant? Would she ever, ever meet him?
+
+It was when she wondered thus, that the wistfulness came into her
+eyes. Even now, as she sat by the window, that shadow returned to
+them. She was wondering, shyly, had she met him at length? That young
+equestrian who had not turned to look at her; whom she was to meet at
+dinner to-night . . . was it he? The ends of her blue sash lay across
+her lap, and she was lazily unravelling their fringes. "Blue and
+white!" she remembered. "They were the colours he wore round his hat."
+And she gave a little laugh of coquetry. She laughed, and, long after,
+her lips were still parted in a smile.
+
+So did she sit, smiling, wondering, with the fringes of her sash
+between her fingers, while the sun sank behind the opposite wall of
+the quadrangle, and the shadows crept out across the grass, thirsty
+for the dew.
+
+
+III
+
+The clock in the Warden's drawing-room had just struck eight, and
+already the ducal feet were beautiful on the white bearskin hearthrug.
+So slim and long were they, of instep so nobly arched, that only with
+a pair of glazed ox-tongues on a breakfast-table were they comparable.
+Incomparable quite, the figure and face and vesture of him who ended
+in them.
+
+The Warden was talking to him, with all the deference of elderly
+commoner to patrician boy. The other guests--an Oriel don and his
+wife--were listening with earnest smile and submissive droop, at a
+slight distance. Now and again, to put themselves at their ease, they
+exchanged in undertone a word or two about the weather.
+
+"The young lady whom you may have noticed with me," the Warden was
+saying, "is my orphaned grand-daughter." (The wife of the Oriel don
+discarded her smile, and sighed, with a glance at the Duke, who was
+himself an orphan.)  "She has come to stay with me." (The Duke glanced
+quickly round the room.) "I cannot think why she is not down yet."
+(The Oriel don fixed his eyes on the clock, as though he suspected it
+of being fast.)  "I must ask you to forgive her. She appears to be a
+bright, pleasant young woman."
+
+"Married?" asked the Duke.
+
+"No," said the Warden; and a cloud of annoyance crossed the boy's
+face. "No; she devotes her life entirely to good works."
+
+"A hospital nurse?" the Duke murmured.
+
+"No, Zuleika's appointed task is to induce delightful wonder rather
+than to alleviate pain. She performs conjuring-tricks."
+
+"Not--not Miss Zuleika Dobson?" cried the Duke.
+
+"Ah yes. I forgot that she had achieved some fame in the outer world.
+Perhaps she has already met you?"
+
+"Never," said the young man coldly. "But of course I have heard of
+Miss Dobson. I did not know she was related to you."
+
+The Duke had an intense horror of unmarried girls. All his vacations
+were spent in eluding them and their chaperons. That he should be
+confronted with one of them--with such an one of them!--in Oxford,
+seemed to him sheer violation of sanctuary. The tone, therefore, in
+which he said "I shall be charmed," in answer to the Warden's request
+that he would take Zuleika into dinner, was very glacial. So was his
+gaze when, a moment later, the young lady made her entry.
+
+"She did not look like an orphan," said the wife of the Oriel don,
+subsequently, on the way home. The criticism was a just one. Zuleika
+would have looked singular in one of those lowly double-files of
+straw-bonnets and drab cloaks which are so steadying a feature of our
+social system. Tall and lissom, she was sheathed from the bosom
+downwards in flamingo silk, and she was liberally festooned with
+emeralds. Her dark hair was not even strained back from her forehead
+and behind her ears, as an orphan's should be. Parted somewhere at the
+side, it fell in an avalanche of curls upon one eyebrow. From her
+right ear drooped heavily a black pearl, from her left a pink; and
+their difference gave an odd, bewildering witchery to the little face
+between.
+
+Was the young Duke bewitched? Instantly, utterly. But none could have
+guessed as much from his cold stare, his easy and impassive bow.
+Throughout dinner, none guessed that his shirt-front was but the
+screen of a fierce warfare waged between pride and passion. Zuleika,
+at the foot of the table, fondly supposed him indifferent to her.
+Though he sat on her right, not one word or glance would he give her.
+All his conversation was addressed to the unassuming lady who sat on
+his other side, next to the Warden. Her he edified and flustered
+beyond measure by his insistent courtesy. Her husband, alone on the
+other side of the table, was mortified by his utter failure to engage
+Zuleika in small-talk. Zuleika was sitting with her profile turned to
+him--the profile with the pink pearl--and was gazing full at the young
+Duke. She was hardly more affable than a cameo. "Yes," "No," "I don't
+know," were the only answers she would vouchsafe to his questions. A
+vague "Oh really?" was all he got for his timid little offerings of
+information. In vain he started the topic of modern conjuring-tricks
+as compared with the conjuring-tricks performed by the ancient
+Egyptians. Zuleika did not even say "Oh really?" when he told her
+about the metamorphosis of the bulls in the Temple of Osiris. He
+primed himself with a glass of sherry, cleared his throat. "And what,"
+he asked, with a note of firmness, "did you think of our cousins
+across the water?" Zuleika said "Yes;" and then he gave in. Nor was
+she conscious that he ceased talking to her. At intervals throughout
+the rest of dinner, she murmured "Yes," and "No," and "Oh really?"
+though the poor little don was now listening silently to the Duke and
+the Warden.
+
+She was in a trance of sheer happiness. At last, she thought, her hope
+was fulfilled--that hope which, although she had seldom remembered it
+in the joy of her constant triumphs, had been always lurking in her,
+lying near to her heart and chafing her, like the shift of sackcloth
+which that young brilliant girl, loved and lost of Giacopone di Todi,
+wore always in secret submission to her own soul, under the fair soft
+robes and the rubies men saw on her. At last, here was the youth who
+would not bow down to her; whom, looking up to him, she could adore.
+She ate and drank automatically, never taking her gaze from him. She
+felt not one touch of pique at his behaviour. She was tremulous with a
+joy that was new to her, greater than any joy she had known. Her soul
+was as a flower in its opetide. She was in love. Rapt, she studied
+every lineament of the pale and perfect face--the brow from which
+bronze-coloured hair rose in tiers of burnished ripples; the large
+steel-coloured eyes, with their carven lids; the carven nose, and the
+plastic lips. She noted how long and slim were his fingers, and how
+slender his wrists. She noted the glint cast by the candles upon his
+shirt-front. The two large white pearls there seemed to her symbols of
+his nature. They were like two moons: cold, remote, radiant. Even when
+she gazed at the Duke's face, she was aware of them in her vision.
+
+Nor was the Duke unconscious, as he seemed to be, of her scrutiny.
+Though he kept his head averse, he knew that always her eyes were
+watching him. Obliquely, he saw them; saw, too, the contour of the
+face, and the black pearl and the pink; could not blind himself, try
+as he would. And he knew that he was in love.
+
+Like Zuleika herself, this young Duke was in love for the first time.
+Wooed though he had been by almost as many maidens as she by youths,
+his heart, like hers, had remained cold. But he had never felt, as she
+had, the desire to love. He was not now rejoicing, as she was, in the
+sensation of first love; nay, he was furiously mortified by it, and
+struggled with all his might against it. He had always fancied himself
+secure against any so vulgar peril; always fancied that by him at
+least, the proud old motto of his family--"Pas si bete"--would not be
+belied. And I daresay, indeed, that had he never met Zuleika, the
+irresistible, he would have lived, and at a very ripe old age died, a
+dandy without reproach. For in him the dandiacal temper had been
+absolute hitherto, quite untainted and unruffled. He was too much
+concerned with his own perfection ever to think of admiring any one
+else. Different from Zuleika, he cared for his wardrobe and his
+toilet-table not as a means to making others admire him the more, but
+merely as a means through which he could intensify, a ritual in which
+to express and realise, his own idolatry. At Eton he had been called
+"Peacock," and this nick-name had followed him up to Oxford. It was
+not wholly apposite, however. For, whereas the peacock is a fool even
+among birds, the Duke had already taken (besides a particularly
+brilliant First in Mods) the Stanhope, the Newdigate, the Lothian, and
+the Gaisford Prize for Greek Verse. And these things he had achieved
+currente calamo, "wielding his pen," as Scott said of Byron, "with the
+easy negligence of a nobleman." He was now in his third year of
+residence, and was reading, a little, for Literae Humaniores. There is
+no doubt that but for his untimely death he would have taken a
+particularly brilliant First in that school also.
+
+For the rest, he had many accomplishments. He was adroit in the
+killing of all birds and fishes, stags and foxes. He played polo,
+cricket, racquets, chess, and billiards as well as such things can be
+played. He was fluent in all modern languages, had a very real talent
+in water-colour, and was accounted, by those who had had the privilege
+of hearing him, the best amateur pianist on this side of the Tweed.
+Little wonder, then, that he was idolised by the undergraduates of his
+day. He did not, however, honour many of them with his friendship. He
+had a theoretic liking for them as a class, as the "young barbarians
+all at play" in that little antique city; but individually they jarred
+on him, and he saw little of them. Yet he sympathised with them
+always, and, on occasion, would actively take their part against the
+dons. In the middle of his second year, he had gone so far that a
+College Meeting had to be held, and he was sent down for the rest of
+term. The Warden placed his own landau at the disposal of the
+illustrious young exile, who therein was driven to the station,
+followed by a long, vociferous procession of undergraduates in cabs.
+Now, it happened that this was a time of political excitement in
+London. The Liberals, who were in power, had passed through the House
+of Commons a measure more than usually socialistic; and this measure
+was down for its second reading in the Lords on the very day that the
+Duke left Oxford, an exile. It was but a few weeks since he had taken
+his seat in the Lords; and this afternoon, for the want of anything
+better to do, he strayed in. The Leader of the House was already
+droning his speech for the bill, and the Duke found himself on one of
+the opposite benches. There sat his compeers, sullenly waiting to vote
+for a bill which every one of them detested. As the speaker subsided,
+the Duke, for the fun of the thing, rose. He made a long speech
+against the bill. His gibes at the Government were so scathing, so
+utterly destructive his criticism of the bill itself, so lofty and so
+irresistible the flights of his eloquence, that, when he resumed his
+seat, there was only one course left to the Leader of the House. He
+rose and, in a few husky phrases, moved that the bill "be read this
+day six months." All England rang with the name of the young Duke. He
+himself seemed to be the one person unmoved by his exploit. He did not
+re-appear in the Upper Chamber, and was heard to speak in slighting
+terms of its architecture, as well as of its upholstery. Nevertheless,
+the Prime Minister became so nervous that he procured for him, a month
+later, the Sovereign's offer of a Garter which had just fallen vacant.
+The Duke accepted it. He was, I understand, the only undergraduate on
+whom this Order had ever been conferred. He was very much pleased with
+the insignia, and when, on great occasions, he wore them, no one dared
+say that the Prime Minister's choice was not fully justified. But you
+must not imagine that he cared for them as symbols of achievement and
+power. The dark blue riband, and the star scintillating to eight
+points, the heavy mantle of blue velvet, with its lining of taffeta
+and shoulder-knots of white satin, the crimson surcoat, the great
+embullioned tassels, and the chain of linked gold, and the plumes of
+ostrich and heron uprising from the black velvet hat--these things had
+for him little significance save as a fine setting, a finer setting
+than the most elaborate smoking-suit, for that perfection of aspect
+which the gods had given him. This was indeed the gift he valued
+beyond all others. He knew well, however, that women care little for a
+man's appearance, and that what they seek in a man is strength of
+character, and rank, and wealth. These three gifts the Duke had in a
+high degree, and he was by women much courted because of them.
+Conscious that every maiden he met was eager to be his Duchess, he had
+assumed always a manner of high austerity among maidens, and even if
+he had wished to flirt with Zuleika he would hardly have known how to
+do it. But he did not wish to flirt with her. That she had bewitched
+him did but make it the more needful that he should shun all converse
+with her. It was imperative that he should banish her from his mind,
+quickly. He must not dilute his own soul's essence. He must not
+surrender to any passion his dandihood. The dandy must be celibate,
+cloistral; is, indeed, but a monk with a mirror for beads and breviary
+--an anchorite, mortifying his soul that his body may be perfect. Till
+he met Zuleika, the Duke had not known the meaning of temptation. He
+fought now, a St. Anthony, against the apparition. He would not look
+at her, and he hated her. He loved her, and he could not help seeing
+her. The black pearl and the pink seemed to dangle ever nearer and
+clearer to him, mocking him and beguiling. Inexpellible was her image.
+
+So fierce was the conflict in him that his outward nonchalance
+gradually gave way. As dinner drew to its close, his conversation with
+the wife of the Oriel don flagged and halted. He sank, at length, into
+a deep silence. He sat with downcast eyes, utterly distracted.
+
+Suddenly, something fell, plump! into the dark whirlpool of his
+thoughts. He started. The Warden was leaning forward, had just said
+something to him.
+
+"I beg your pardon?" asked the Duke. Dessert, he noticed, was on the
+table, and he was paring an apple. The Oriel don was looking at him
+with sympathy, as at one who had swooned and was just "coming to."
+
+"Is it true, my dear Duke," the Warden repeated, "that you have been
+persuaded to play to-morrow evening at the Judas concert?"
+
+"Ah yes, I am going to play something."
+
+Zuleika bent suddenly forward, addressed him. "Oh," she cried,
+clasping her hands beneath her chin, "will you let me come and turn
+over the leaves for you?"
+
+He looked her full in the face. It was like seeing suddenly at close
+quarters some great bright monument that one has long known only as a
+sun-caught speck in the distance. He saw the large violet eyes open to
+him, and their lashes curling to him; the vivid parted lips; and the
+black pearl, and the pink.
+
+"You are very kind," he murmured, in a voice which sounded to him
+quite far away. "But I always play without notes."
+
+Zuleika blushed. Not with shame, but with delirious pleasure. For that
+snub she would just then have bartered all the homage she had hoarded.
+This, she felt, was the climax. She would not outstay it. She rose,
+smiling to the wife of the Oriel don. Every one rose. The Oriel don
+held open the door, and the two ladies passed out of the room.
+
+The Duke drew out his cigarette case. As he looked down at the
+cigarettes, he was vaguely conscious of some strange phenomenon
+somewhere between them and his eyes. Foredone by the agitation of the
+past hour, he did not at once realise what it was that he saw. His
+impression was of something in bad taste, some discord in his costume
+. . . a black pearl and a pink pearl in his shirt-front!
+
+Just for a moment, absurdly over-estimating poor Zuleika's skill, he
+supposed himself a victim of legerdemain. Another moment, and the
+import of the studs revealed itself. He staggered up from his chair,
+covering his breast with one arm, and murmured that he was faint. As
+he hurried from the room, the Oriel don was pouring out a tumbler of
+water and suggesting burnt feathers. The Warden, solicitous, followed
+him into the hall. He snatched up his hat, gasping that he had spent a
+delightful evening--was very sorry--was subject to these attacks. Once
+outside, he took frankly to his heels.
+
+At the corner of the Broad, he looked back over his shoulder. He had
+half expected a scarlet figure skimming in pursuit. There was nothing.
+He halted. Before him, the Broad lay empty beneath the moon. He went
+slowly, mechanically, to his rooms.
+
+The high grim busts of the Emperors stared down at him, their faces
+more than ever tragically cavernous and distorted. They saw and read
+in that moonlight the symbols on his breast. As he stood on his
+doorstep, waiting for the door to be opened, he must have seemed to
+them a thing for infinite compassion. For were they not privy to the
+doom that the morrow, or the morrow's morrow, held for him--held not
+indeed for him alone, yet for him especially, as it were, and for him
+most lamentably?
+
+
+IV
+
+The breakfast-things were not yet cleared away. A plate freaked with
+fine strains of marmalade, an empty toast-rack, a broken roll--these
+and other things bore witness to a day inaugurated in the right
+spirit.
+
+Away from them, reclining along his window-seat, was the Duke. Blue
+spirals rose from his cigarette, nothing in the still air to trouble
+them. From their railing, across the road, the Emperors gazed at him.
+
+For a young man, sleep is a sure solvent of distress. There whirls not
+for him in the night any so hideous a phantasmagoria as will not
+become, in the clarity of next morning, a spruce procession for him to
+lead. Brief the vague horror of his awakening; memory sweeps back to
+him, and he sees nothing dreadful after all. "Why not?" is the sun's
+bright message to him, and "Why not indeed?" his answer. After hours
+of agony and doubt prolonged to cock-crow, sleep had stolen to the
+Duke's bed-side. He awoke late, with a heavy sense of disaster; but
+lo! when he remembered, everything took on a new aspect. He was in
+love. "Why not?" He mocked himself for the morbid vigil he had spent
+in probing and vainly binding the wounds of his false pride. The old
+life was done with. He laughed as he stepped into his bath. Why should
+the disseizin of his soul have seemed shameful to him? He had had no
+soul till it passed out of his keeping. His body thrilled to the cold
+water, his soul as to a new sacrament. He was in love, and that was
+all he wished for . . . There, on the dressing-table, lay the two
+studs, visible symbols of his love. Dear to him, now, the colours of
+them! He took them in his hand, one by one, fondling them. He wished
+he could wear them in the day-time; but this, of course, was
+impossible. His toilet finished, he dropped them into the left pocket
+of his waistcoat.
+
+Therein, near to his heart, they were lying now, as he looked out at
+the changed world--the world that had become Zuleika. "Zuleika!" his
+recurrent murmur, was really an apostrophe to the whole world.
+
+Piled against the wall were certain boxes of black japanned tin, which
+had just been sent to him from London. At any other time he would
+certainly not have left them unopened. For they contained his robes of
+the Garter. Thursday, the day after to-morrow, was the date fixed for
+the investiture of a foreign king who was now visiting England: and
+the full chapter of Knights had been commanded to Windsor for the
+ceremony. Yesterday the Duke had looked keenly forward to his
+excursion. It was only in those too rarely required robes that he had
+the sense of being fully dressed. But to-day not a thought had he of
+them.
+
+Some clock clove with silver the stillness of the morning. Ere came
+the second stroke, another and nearer clock was striking. And now
+there were others chiming in. The air was confused with the sweet
+babel of its many spires, some of them booming deep, measured
+sequences, some tinkling impatiently and outwitting others which had
+begun before them. And when this anthem of jealous antiphonies and
+uneven rhythms had dwindled quite away and fainted in one last
+solitary note of silver, there started somewhere another sequence; and
+this, almost at its last stroke, was interrupted by yet another, which
+went on to tell the hour of noon in its own way, quite slowly and
+significantly, as though none knew it.
+
+And now Oxford was astir with footsteps and laughter--the laughter and
+quick footsteps of youths released from lecture-rooms. The Duke
+shifted from the window. Somehow, he did not care to be observed,
+though it was usually at this hour that he showed himself for the
+setting of some new fashion in costume. Many an undergraduate, looking
+up, missed the picture in the window-frame.
+
+The Duke paced to and fro, smiling ecstatically. He took the two studs
+from his pocket and gazed at them. He looked in the glass, as one
+seeking the sympathy of a familiar. For the first time in his life, he
+turned impatiently aside. It was a new kind of sympathy he needed
+to-day.
+
+The front door slammed, and the staircase creaked to the ascent of two
+heavy boots. The Duke listened, waited irresolute. The boots passed
+his door, were already clumping up the next flight. "Noaks!" he cried.
+The boots paused, then clumped down again. The door opened and
+disclosed that homely figure which Zuleika had seen on her way to
+Judas.
+
+Sensitive reader, start not at the apparition! Oxford is a plexus of
+anomalies. These two youths were (odd as it may seem to you) subject
+to the same Statutes, affiliated to the same College, reading for the
+same School; aye! and though the one had inherited half a score of
+noble and castellated roofs, whose mere repairs cost him annually
+thousands and thousands of pounds, and the other's people had but one
+little mean square of lead, from which the fireworks of the Crystal
+Palace were clearly visible every Thursday evening, in Oxford one roof
+sheltered both of them. Furthermore, there was even some measure of
+intimacy between them. It was the Duke's whim to condescend further in
+the direction of Noaks than in any other. He saw in Noaks his own foil
+and antithesis, and made a point of walking up the High with him at
+least once in every term. Noaks, for his part, regarded the Duke with
+feelings mingled of idolatry and disapproval. The Duke's First in Mods
+oppressed him (who, by dint of dogged industry, had scraped a Second)
+more than all the other differences between them. But the dullard's
+envy of brilliant men is always assuaged by the suspicion that they
+will come to a bad end. Noaks may have regarded the Duke as a rather
+pathetic figure, on the whole.
+
+"Come in, Noaks," said the Duke. "You have been to a lecture?"
+
+"Aristotle's Politics," nodded Noaks.
+
+"And what were they?" asked the Duke. He was eager for sympathy in his
+love. But so little used was he to seeking sympathy that he could not
+unburden himself. He temporised. Noaks muttered something about
+getting back to work, and fumbled with the door-handle.
+
+"Oh, my dear fellow, don't go," said the Duke. "Sit down. Our Schools
+don't come on for another year. A few minutes can't make a difference
+in your Class. I want to--to tell you something, Noaks. Do sit down."
+
+Noaks sat down on the edge of a chair. The Duke leaned against the
+mantel-piece, facing him. "I suppose, Noaks," he said, "you have never
+been in love."
+
+"Why shouldn't I have been in love?" asked the little man, angrily.
+
+"I can't imagine you in love," said the Duke, smiling.
+
+"And I can't imagine YOU. You're too pleased with yourself," growled
+Noaks.
+
+"Spur your imagination, Noaks," said his friend. "I AM in love."
+
+"So am I," was an unexpected answer, and the Duke (whose need of
+sympathy was too new to have taught him sympathy with others) laughed
+aloud. "Whom do you love?" he asked, throwing himself into an
+arm-chair.
+
+"I don't know who she is," was another unexpected answer.
+
+"When did you meet her?" asked the Duke. "Where? What did you say to
+her?"
+
+"Yesterday. In the Corn. I didn't SAY anything to her."
+
+"Is she beautiful?"
+
+"Yes. What's that to you?"
+
+"Dark or fair?"
+
+"She's dark. She looks like a foreigner. She looks like--like one of
+those photographs in the shop-windows."
+
+"A rhapsody, Noaks! What became of her? Was she alone?"
+
+"She was with the old Warden, in his carriage."
+
+Zuleika--Noaks! The Duke started, as at an affront, and glared. Next
+moment, he saw the absurdity of the situation. He relapsed into his
+chair, smiling. "She's the Warden's niece," he said. "I dined at the
+Warden's last night."
+
+Noaks sat still, peering across at the Duke. For the first time in his
+life, he was resentful of the Duke's great elegance and average
+stature, his high lineage and incomputable wealth. Hitherto, these
+things had been too remote for envy. But now, suddenly, they seemed
+near to him--nearer and more overpowering than the First in Mods had
+ever been. "And of course she's in love with you?" he snarled.
+
+Really, this was for the Duke a new issue. So salient was his own
+passion that he had not had time to wonder whether it were returned.
+Zuleika's behaviour during dinner . . . But that was how so many young
+women had behaved. It was no sign of disinterested love. It might mean
+merely . . . Yet no! Surely, looking into her eyes, he had seen there
+a radiance finer than could have been lit by common ambition. Love,
+none other, must have lit in those purple depths the torches whose
+clear flames had leapt out to him. She loved him. She, the beautiful,
+the wonderful, had not tried to conceal her love for him. She had
+shown him all--had shown all, poor darling! only to be snubbed by a
+prig, driven away by a boor, fled from by a fool. To the nethermost
+corner of his soul, he cursed himself for what he had done, and for
+all he had left undone. He would go to her on his knees. He would
+implore her to impose on him insufferable penances. There was no
+penance, how bittersweet soever, could make him a little worthy of
+her.
+
+"Come in!" he cried mechanically. Entered the landlady's daughter.
+
+"A lady downstairs," she said, "asking to see your Grace. Says she'll
+step round again later if your Grace is busy."
+
+"What is her name?" asked the Duke, vacantly. He was gazing at the
+girl with pain-shot eyes.
+
+"Miss Zuleika Dobson," pronounced the girl.
+
+He rose.
+
+"Show Miss Dobson up," he said.
+
+Noaks had darted to the looking-glass and was smoothing his hair with
+a tremulous, enormous hand.
+
+"Go!" said the Duke, pointing to the door. Noaks went, quickly. Echoes
+of his boots fell from the upper stairs and met the ascending susurrus
+of a silk skirt.
+
+The lovers met. There was an interchange of ordinary greetings: from
+the Duke, a comment on the weather; from Zuleika, a hope that he was
+well again--they had been so sorry to lose him last night. Then came a
+pause. The landlady's daughter was clearing away the breakfast-things.
+Zuleika glanced comprehensively at the room, and the Duke gazed at the
+hearthrug. The landlady's daughter clattered out with her freight.
+They were alone.
+
+"How pretty!" said Zuleika. She was looking at his star of the Garter,
+which sparkled from a litter of books and papers on a small
+side-table.
+
+"Yes," he answered. "It is pretty, isn't it?"
+
+"Awfully pretty!" she rejoined.
+
+This dialogue led them to another hollow pause. The Duke's heart beat
+violently within him. Why had he not asked her to take the star and
+keep it as a gift? Too late now! Why could he not throw himself at her
+feet? Here were two beings, lovers of each other, with none by. And
+yet . . .
+
+She was examining a water-colour on the wall, seemed to be absorbed by
+it. He watched her. She was even lovelier than he had remembered; or
+rather her loveliness had been, in some subtle way, transmuted.
+Something had given to her a graver, nobler beauty. Last night's nymph
+had become the Madonna of this morning. Despite her dress, which was
+of a tremendous tartan, she diffused the pale authentic radiance of a
+spirituality most high, most simple. The Duke wondered where lay the
+change in her. He could not understand. Suddenly she turned to him,
+and he understood. No longer the black pearl and the pink, but two
+white pearls! . . . He thrilled to his heart's core.
+
+"I hope," said Zuleika, "you aren't awfully vexed with me for coming
+like this?"
+
+"Not at all," said the Duke. "I am delighted to see you." How
+inadequate the words sounded, how formal and stupid!
+
+"The fact is," she continued, "I don't know a soul in Oxford. And I
+thought perhaps you'd give me luncheon, and take me to see the
+boat-races. Will you?"
+
+"I shall be charmed," he said, pulling the bell-rope. Poor fool! he
+attributed the shade of disappointment on Zuleika's face to the
+coldness of his tone. He would dispel that shade. He would avow
+himself. He would leave her no longer in this false position. So soon
+as he had told them about the meal, he would proclaim his passion.
+
+The bell was answered by the landlady's daughter.
+
+"Miss Dobson will stay to luncheon," said the Duke. The girl withdrew.
+He wished he could have asked her not to.
+
+He steeled himself. "Miss Dobson," he said, "I wish to apologise to
+you."
+
+Zuleika looked at him eagerly. "You can't give me luncheon? You've got
+something better to do?"
+
+"No. I wish to ask you to forgive me for my behaviour last night."
+
+"There is nothing to forgive."
+
+"There is. My manners were vile. I know well what happened. Though
+you, too, cannot have forgotten, I won't spare myself the recital. You
+were my hostess, and I ignored you. Magnanimous, you paid me the
+prettiest compliment woman ever paid to man, and I insulted you. I
+left the house in order that I might not see you again. To the
+doorsteps down which he should have kicked me, your grandfather
+followed me with words of kindliest courtesy. If he had sped me with a
+kick so skilful that my skull had been shattered on the kerb, neither
+would he have outstepped those bounds set to the conduct of English
+gentlemen, nor would you have garnered more than a trifle on account
+of your proper reckoning. I do not say that you are the first person
+whom I have wantonly injured. But it is a fact that I, in whom pride
+has ever been the topmost quality, have never expressed sorrow to any
+one for anything. Thus, I might urge that my present abjectness must
+be intolerably painful to me, and should incline you to forgive. But
+such an argument were specious merely. I will be quite frank with you.
+I will confess to you that, in this humbling of myself before you, I
+take a pleasure as passionate as it is strange. A confusion of
+feelings? Yet you, with a woman's instinct, will have already caught
+the clue to it. It needs no mirror to assure me that the clue is here
+for you, in my eyes. It needs no dictionary of quotations to remind me
+that the eyes are the windows of the soul. And I know that from two
+open windows my soul has been leaning and signalling to you, in a code
+far more definitive and swifter than words of mine, that I love you."
+
+Zuleika, listening to him, had grown gradually paler and paler. She
+had raised her hands and cowered as though he were about to strike
+her. And then, as he pronounced the last three words, she had clasped
+her hands to her face and with a wild sob darted away from him. She
+was leaning now against the window, her head bowed and her shoulders
+quivering.
+
+The Duke came softly behind her. "Why should you cry? Why should you
+turn away from me? Did I frighten you with the suddenness of my words?
+I am not versed in the tricks of wooing. I should have been more
+patient. But I love you so much that I could hardly have waited. A
+secret hope that you loved me too emboldened me, compelled me. You DO
+love me. I know it. And, knowing it, I do but ask you to give yourself
+to me, to be my wife. Why should you cry? Why should you shrink from
+me? Dear, if there were anything . . . any secret . . . if you had
+ever loved and been deceived, do you think I should honour you the
+less deeply, should not cherish you the more tenderly? Enough for me,
+that you are mine. Do you think I should ever reproach you for
+anything that may have--"
+
+Zuleika turned on him. "How dare you?" she gasped. "How dare you speak
+to me like that?"
+
+The Duke reeled back. Horror had come into his eyes. "You do not love
+me!" he cried.
+
+"LOVE you?" she retorted. "YOU?"
+
+"You no longer love me. Why? Why?"
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"You loved me. Don't trifle with me. You came to me loving me with all
+your heart."
+
+"How do you know?"
+
+"Look in the glass." She went at his bidding. He followed her. "You
+see them?" he said, after a long pause. Zuleika nodded. The two pearls
+quivered to her nod.
+
+"They were white when you came to me," he sighed. "They were white
+because you loved me. From them it was that I knew you loved me even
+as I loved you. But their old colours have come back to them. That is
+how I know that your love for me is dead."
+
+Zuleika stood gazing pensively, twitching the two pearls between her
+fingers. Tears gathered in her eyes. She met the reflection of her
+lover's eyes, and her tears brimmed over. She buried her face in her
+hands, and sobbed like a child.
+
+Like a child's, her sobbing ceased quite suddenly. She groped for her
+handkerchief, angrily dried her eyes, and straightened and smoothed
+herself.
+
+"Now I'm going," she said.
+
+"You came here of your own accord, because you loved me," said the
+Duke. "And you shall not go till you have told me why you have left
+off loving me."
+
+"How did you know I loved you?" she asked after a pause. "How did you
+know I hadn't simply put on another pair of ear-rings?"
+
+The Duke, with a melancholy laugh, drew the two studs from his
+waistcoat-pocket. "These are the studs I wore last night," he said.
+
+Zuleika gazed at them. "I see," she said; then, looking up, "When did
+they become like that?"
+
+"It was when you left the dining-room that I saw the change in them."
+
+"How strange! It was when I went into the drawing-room that I noticed
+mine. I was looking in the glass, and"-- She started. "Then you were
+in love with me last night?"
+
+"I began to be in love with you from the moment I saw you."
+
+"Then how could you have behaved as you did?"
+
+"Because I was a pedant. I tried to ignore you, as pedants always do
+try to ignore any fact they cannot fit into their pet system. The
+basis of my pet system was celibacy. I don't mean the mere state of
+being a bachelor. I mean celibacy of the soul--egoism, in fact. You
+have converted me from that. I am now a confirmed tuist."
+
+"How dared you insult me?" she cried, with a stamp of her foot. "How
+dared you make a fool of me before those people? Oh, it is too
+infamous!"
+
+"I have already asked you to forgive me for that. You said there was
+nothing to forgive."
+
+"I didn't dream that you were in love with me."
+
+"What difference can that make?"
+
+"All the difference! All the difference in life!"
+
+"Sit down! You bewilder me," said the Duke. "Explain yourself!" he
+commanded.
+
+"Isn't that rather much for a man to ask of a woman?"
+
+"I don't know. I have no experience of women. In the abstract, it
+seems to me that every man has a right to some explanation from the
+woman who has ruined his life."
+
+"You are frightfully sorry for yourself," said Zuleika, with a bitter
+laugh. "Of course it doesn't occur to you that _I_ am at all to be
+pitied. No! you are blind with selfishness. You love me--I don't love
+you: that is all you can realise. Probably you think you are the first
+man who has ever fallen on such a plight."
+
+Said the Duke, bowing over a deprecatory hand, "If there were to pass
+my window one tithe of them whose hearts have been lost to Miss
+Dobson, I should win no solace from that interminable parade."
+
+Zuleika blushed. "Yet," she said more gently, "be sure they would all
+be not a little envious of YOU!  Not one of them ever touched the
+surface of my heart. You stirred my heart to its very depths. Yes, you
+made me love you madly. The pearls told you no lie. You were my
+idol--the one thing in the wide world to me. You were so different
+from any man I had ever seen except in dreams. You did not make a fool
+of yourself. I admired you. I respected you. I was all afire with
+adoration of you. And now," she passed her hand across her eyes, "now
+it is all over. The idol has come sliding down its pedestal to fawn
+and grovel with all the other infatuates in the dust about my feet."
+
+The Duke looked thoughtfully at her. "I thought," he said, "that you
+revelled in your power over men's hearts. I had always heard that you
+lived for admiration."
+
+"Oh," said Zuleika, "of course I like being admired. Oh yes, I like
+all that very much indeed. In a way, I suppose, I'm even pleased that
+YOU admire me. But oh, what a little miserable pleasure that is in
+comparison with the rapture I have forfeited! I had never known the
+rapture of being in love. I had longed for it, but I had never guessed
+how wonderfully wonderful it was. It came to me. I shuddered and
+wavered like a fountain in the wind. I was more helpless and flew
+lightlier than a shred of thistledown among the stars. All night long,
+I could not sleep for love of you; nor had I any desire of sleep, save
+that it might take me to you in a dream. I remember nothing that
+happened to me this morning before I found myself at your door."
+
+"Why did you ring the bell? Why didn't you walk away?"
+
+"Why? I had come to see you, to be near you, to be WITH you."
+
+"To force yourself on me."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"You know the meaning of the term 'effective occupation'? Having
+marched in, how could you have held your position, unless"--
+
+"Oh, a man doesn't necessarily drive a woman away because he isn't in
+love with her."
+
+"Yet that was what you thought I had done to you last night."
+
+"Yes, but I didn't suppose you would take the trouble to do it again.
+And if you had, I should have only loved you the more. I thought you
+would most likely be rather amused, rather touched, by my importunity.
+I thought you would take a listless advantage, make a plaything of me
+--the diversion of a few idle hours in summer, and then, when you had
+tired of me, would cast me aside, forget me, break my heart. I desired
+nothing better than that. That is what I must have been vaguely hoping
+for. But I had no definite scheme. I wanted to be with you and I came
+to you. It seems years ago, now! How my heart beat as I waited on the
+doorstep! 'Is his Grace at home?'  'I don't know. I'll inquire. What
+name shall I say?'  I saw in the girl's eyes that she, too, loved you.
+Have YOU seen that?"
+
+"I have never looked at her," said the Duke.
+
+"No wonder, then, that she loves you," sighed Zuleika. "She read my
+secret at a glance. Women who love the same man have a kind of bitter
+freemasonry. We resented each other. She envied me my beauty, my
+dress. I envied the little fool her privilege of being always near to
+you. Loving you, I could conceive no life sweeter than hers--to be
+always near you; to black your boots, carry up your coals, scrub your
+doorstep; always to be working for you, hard and humbly and without
+thanks. If you had refused to see me, I would have bribed that girl
+with all my jewels to cede me her position."
+
+The Duke made a step towards her. "You would do it still," he said in
+a low voice.
+
+Zuleika raised her eyebrows. "I would not offer her one garnet," she
+said, "now."
+
+"You SHALL love me again," he cried. "I will force you to. You said
+just now that you had ceased to love me because I was just like other
+men. I am not. My heart is no tablet of mere wax, from which an
+instant's heat can dissolve whatever impress it may bear, leaving it
+blank and soft for another impress, and another, and another. My heart
+is a bright hard gem, proof against any die. Came Cupid, with one of
+his arrow-points for graver, and what he cut on the gem's surface
+never can be effaced. There, deeply and forever, your image is
+intagliated. No years, nor fires, nor cataclysm of total Nature, can
+efface from that great gem your image."
+
+"My dear Duke," said Zuleika, "don't be so silly. Look at the matter
+sensibly. I know that lovers don't try to regulate their emotions
+according to logic; but they do, nevertheless, unconsciously conform
+with some sort of logical system. I left off loving you when I found
+that you loved me. There is the premiss. Very well! Is it likely that
+I shall begin to love you again because you can't leave off loving
+me?"
+
+The Duke groaned. There was a clatter of plates outside, and she whom
+Zuleika had envied came to lay the table for luncheon.
+
+A smile flickered across Zuleika's lips; and "Not one garnet!" she
+murmured.
+
+
+V
+
+Luncheon passed in almost unbroken silence. Both Zuleika and the Duke
+were ravenously hungry, as people always are after the stress of any
+great emotional crisis. Between them, they made very short work of a
+cold chicken, a salad, a gooseberry-tart and a Camembert. The Duke
+filled his glass again and again. The cold classicism of his face had
+been routed by the new romantic movement which had swept over his
+soul. He looked two or three months older than when first I showed him
+to my reader.
+
+He drank his coffee at one draught, pushed back his chair, threw away
+the cigarette he had just lit. "Listen!" he said.
+
+Zuleika folded her hands on her lap.
+
+"You do not love me. I accept as final your hint that you never will
+love me. I need not say--could not, indeed, ever say--how deeply,
+deeply you have pained me. As lover, I am rejected. But that
+rejection," he continued, striking the table, "is no stopper to my
+suit. It does but drive me to the use of arguments. My pride shrinks
+from them. Love, however, is greater than pride; and I, John, Albert,
+Edward, Claude, Orde, Angus, Tankerton,* Tanville-Tankerton,**
+fourteenth Duke of Dorset, Marquis of Dorset, Earl of Grove, Earl of
+Chastermaine, Viscount Brewsby, Baron Grove, Baron Petstrap, and Baron
+Wolock, in the Peerage of England, offer you my hand. Do not interrupt
+me. Do not toss your head. Consider well what I am saying. Weigh the
+advantages you would gain by acceptance of my hand. Indeed, they are
+manifold and tremendous. They are also obvious: do not shut your eyes
+to them. You, Miss Dobson, what are you? A conjurer, and a vagrant;
+without means, save such as you can earn by the sleight of your hand;
+without position; without a home; all unguarded but by your own self-
+respect. That you follow an honourable calling, I do not for one
+moment deny. I do, however, ask you to consider how great are its
+perils and hardships, its fatigues and inconveniences. From all these
+evils I offer you instant refuge. I offer you, Miss Dobson, a refuge
+more glorious and more augustly gilded than you, in your airiest
+flights of fancy, can ever have hoped for or imagined. I own about
+340,000 acres. My town-residence is in St. James's Square. Tankerton,
+of which you may have seen photographs, is the chief of my country-
+seats. It is a Tudor house, set on the ridge of a valley. The valley,
+its park, is halved by a stream so narrow that the deer leap across.
+The gardens are estraded upon the slope. Round the house runs a wide
+paven terrace. There are always two or three peacocks trailing their
+sheathed feathers along the balustrade, and stepping how stiffly! as
+though they had just been unharnessed from Juno's chariot. Two flights
+of shallow steps lead down to the flowers and fountains. Oh, the
+gardens are wonderful. There is a Jacobean garden of white roses.
+Between the ends of two pleached alleys, under a dome of branches, is
+a little lake, with a Triton of black marble, and with water-lilies.
+Hither and thither under the archipelago of water-lilies, dart gold-
+fish--tongues of flame in the dark water. There is also a long strait
+alley of clipped yew. It ends in an alcove for a pagoda of painted
+porcelain which the Prince Regent--peace be to his ashes!--presented
+to my great-grandfather. There are many twisting paths, and sudden
+aspects, and devious, fantastic arbours. Are you fond of horses? In my
+stables of pine-wood and plated-silver seventy are installed. Not all
+of them together could vie in power with one of the meanest of my
+motor-cars."
+
+   *Pronounced as Tacton.
+
+  **Pronounced as Tavvle-Tacton.
+
+
+"Oh, I never go in motors," said Zuleika. "They make one look like
+nothing on earth, and like everybody else."
+
+"I myself," said the Duke, "use them little for that very reason. Are
+you interested in farming? At Tankerton there is a model farm which
+would at any rate amuse you, with its heifers and hens and pigs that
+are like so many big new toys. There is a tiny dairy, which is called
+'Her Grace's.'  You could make, therein, real butter with your own
+hands, and round it into little pats, and press every pat with a
+different device. The boudoir that would be yours is a blue room. Four
+Watteaus hang in it. In the dining-hall hang portraits of my
+forefathers--in petto, your forefathers-in-law--by many masters. Are
+you fond of peasants? My tenantry are delightful creatures, and there
+is not one of them who remembers the bringing of the news of the
+Battle of Waterloo. When a new Duchess is brought to Tankerton, the
+oldest elm in the park must be felled. That is one of many strange old
+customs. As she is driven through the village, the children of the
+tenantry must strew the road with daisies. The bridal chamber must be
+lighted with as many candles as years have elapsed since the creation
+of the Dukedom. If you came into it, there would be"--and the youth,
+closing his eyes, made a rapid calculation--"exactly three hundred and
+eighty-eight candles. On the eve of the death of a Duke of Dorset, two
+black owls come and perch on the battlements. They remain there
+through the night, hooting. At dawn they fly away, none knows whither.
+On the eve of the death of any other Tanville-Tankerton, comes (no
+matter what be the time of year) a cuckoo. It stays for an hour,
+cooing, then flies away, none knows whither. Whenever this portent
+occurs, my steward telegraphs to me, that I, as head of the family, be
+not unsteeled against the shock of a bereavement, and that my
+authority be sooner given for the unsealing and garnishing of the
+family-vault. Not every forefather of mine rests quiet beneath his
+escutcheoned marble. There are they who revisit, in their wrath or
+their remorse, the places wherein erst they suffered or wrought evil.
+There is one who, every Halloween, flits into the dining-hall, and
+hovers before the portrait which Hans Holbein made of him, and flings
+his diaphanous grey form against the canvas, hoping, maybe, to catch
+from it the fiery flesh-tints and the solid limbs that were his, and
+so to be re-incarnate. He flies against the painting, only to find
+himself t'other side of the wall it hangs on. There are five ghosts
+permanently residing in the right wing of the house, two in the left,
+and eleven in the park. But all are quite noiseless and quite
+harmless. My servants, when they meet them in the corridors or on the
+stairs, stand aside to let them pass, thus paying them the respect due
+to guests of mine; but not even the rawest housemaid ever screams or
+flees at sight of them. I, their host, often waylay them and try to
+commune with them; but always they glide past me. And how gracefully
+they glide, these ghosts! It is a pleasure to watch them. It is a
+lesson in deportment. May they never be laid! Of all my household-
+pets, they are the dearest to me. I am Duke of Strathsporran and
+Cairngorm, Marquis of Sorby, and Earl Cairngorm, in the Peerage of
+Scotland. In the glens of the hills about Strathsporran are many noble
+and nimble stags. But I have never set foot in my house there, for it
+is carpeted throughout with the tartan of my clan. You seem to like
+tartan. What tartan is it you are wearing?"
+
+Zuleika looked down at her skirt. "I don't know," she said. "I got it
+in Paris."
+
+"Well," said the Duke, "it is very ugly. The Dalbraith tartan is
+harmonious in comparison, and has, at least, the excuse of history. If
+you married me, you would have the right to wear it. You would have
+many strange and fascinating rights. You would go to Court. I admit
+that the Hanoverian Court is not much. Still, it is better than
+nothing. At your presentation, moreover, you would be given the
+entree. Is that nothing to you? You would be driven to Court in my
+statecoach. It is swung so high that the streetsters can hardly see
+its occupant. It is lined with rose-silk; and on its panels, and on
+its hammer-cloth, my arms are emblazoned--no one has ever been able to
+count the quarterings. You would be wearing the family-jewels,
+reluctantly surrendered to you by my aunt. They are many and
+marvellous, in their antique settings. I don't want to brag. It
+humiliates me to speak to you as I am speaking. But I am heart-set on
+you, and to win you there is not a precious stone I would leave
+unturned. Conceive a parure all of white stones--diamonds, white
+sapphires, white topazes, tourmalines. Another, of rubies and
+amethysts, set in gold filigree. Rings that once were poison-combs on
+Florentine fingers. Red roses for your hair--every petal a hollowed
+ruby. Amulets and ape-buckles, zones and fillets. Aye! know that you
+would be weeping for wonder before you had seen a tithe of these
+gauds. Know, too, Miss Dobson, that in the Peerage of France I am Duc
+d'Etretat et de la Roche Guillaume. Louis Napoleon gave the title to
+my father for not cutting him in the Bois. I have a house in the
+Champs Elysees. There is a Swiss in its courtyard. He stands six-foot-
+seven in his stockings, and the chasseurs are hardly less tall than
+he. Wherever I go, there are two chefs in my retinue. Both are masters
+in their art, and furiously jealous of each other. When I compliment
+either of them on some dish, the other challenges him. They fight with
+rapiers, next morning, in the garden of whatever house I am occupying.
+I do not know whether you are greedy? If so, it may interest you to
+learn that I have a third chef, who makes only souffles, and an
+Italian pastry-cook; to say nothing of a Spaniard for salads, an
+Englishwoman for roasts, and an Abyssinian for coffee. You found no
+trace of their handiwork in the meal you have just had with me? No;
+for in Oxford it is a whim of mine--I may say a point of honour--to
+lead the ordinary life of an undergraduate. What I eat in this room is
+cooked by the heavy and unaided hand of Mrs. Batch, my landlady. It is
+set before me by the unaided and--or are you in error?--loving hand of
+her daughter. Other ministers have I none here. I dispense with my
+private secretaries. I am unattended by a single valet. So simple a
+way of life repels you? You would never be called upon to share it. If
+you married me, I should take my name off the books of my College. I
+propose that we should spend our honeymoon at Baiae. I have a villa at
+Baiae. It is there that I keep my grandfather's collection of
+majolica. The sun shines there always. A long olive-grove secretes the
+garden from the sea. When you walk in the garden, you know the sea
+only in blue glimpses through the vacillating leaves. White-gleaming
+from the bosky shade of this grove are several goddesses. Do you care
+for Canova? I don't myself. If you do, these figures will appeal to
+you: they are in his best manner. Do you love the sea? This is not the
+only house of mine that looks out on it. On the coast of County Clare
+--am I not Earl of Enniskerry and Baron Shandrin in the Peerage of
+Ireland?--I have an ancient castle. Sheer from a rock stands it, and
+the sea has always raged up against its walls. Many ships lie wrecked
+under that loud implacable sea. But mine is a brave strong castle. No
+storm affrights it; and not the centuries, clustering houris, with
+their caresses can seduce it from its hard austerity. I have several
+titles which for the moment escape me. Baron Llffthwchl am I, and
+. . . and . . . but you can find them for yourself in Debrett. In me
+you behold a Prince of the Holy Roman Empire, and a Knight of the Most
+Noble Order of the Garter. Look well at me! I am Hereditary Comber of
+the Queen's Lap-Dogs. I am young. I am handsome. My temper is sweet,
+and my character without blemish. In fine, Miss Dobson, I am a most
+desirable parti."
+
+"But," said Zuleika, "I don't love you."
+
+The Duke stamped his foot. "I beg your pardon," he said hastily. "I ought not to have done
+that. But--you seem to have entirely missed the point of what I was
+saying."
+
+"No, I haven't," said Zuleika.
+
+"Then what," cried the Duke, standing over her, "what is your reply?"
+
+Said Zuleika, looking up at him, "My reply is that I think you are an
+awful snob."
+
+The Duke turned on his heel, and strode to the other end of the room.
+There he stood for some moments, his back to Zuleika.
+
+"I think," she resumed in a slow, meditative voice, "that you are,
+with the possible exception of a Mr. Edelweiss, THE most awful snob I
+have ever met."
+
+he Duke looked back over his shoulder. He gave Zuleika the stinging
+reprimand of silence. She was sorry, and showed it in her eyes. She
+felt she had gone too far. True, he was nothing to her now. But she
+had loved him once. She could not forget that.
+
+"Come!" she said. "Let us be good friends. Give me your hand!" He came
+to her, slowly. "There!"
+
+The Duke withdrew his fingers before she unclasped them. That twice-
+flung taunt rankled still. It was monstrous to have been called a
+snob. A snob!--he, whose readiness to form what would certainly be
+regarded as a shocking misalliance ought to have stifled the charge,
+not merely vindicated him from it! He had forgotten, in the blindness
+of his love, how shocking the misalliance would be. Perhaps she,
+unloving, had not been so forgetful? Perhaps her refusal had been
+made, generously, for his own sake. Nay, rather for her own.
+Evidently, she had felt that the high sphere from which he beckoned
+was no place for the likes of her. Evidently, she feared she would
+pine away among those strange splendours, never be acclimatised,
+always be unworthy. He had thought to overwhelm her, and he had done
+his work too thoroughly. Now he must try to lighten the load he had
+imposed.
+
+Seating himself opposite to her, "You remember," he said, "that there
+is a dairy at Tankerton?"
+
+"A dairy? Oh yes."
+
+"Do you remember what it is called?"
+
+Zuleika knit her brows.
+
+He helped her out. "It is called 'Her Grace's'."
+
+"Oh, of course!" said Zuleika.
+
+"Do you know WHY it is called so?"
+
+"Well, let's see . . . I know you told me."
+
+"Did I? I think not. I will tell you now . . . That cool out-house
+dates from the middle of the eighteenth century. My great-great-
+grandfather, when he was a very old man, married en troisiemes noces a
+dairy-maid on the Tankerton estate. Meg Speedwell was her name. He had
+seen her walking across a field, not many months after the interment
+of his second Duchess, Maria, that great and gifted lady. I know not
+whether it was that her bonny mien fanned in him some embers of his
+youth, or that he was loth to be outdone in gracious eccentricity by
+his crony the Duke of Dewlap, who himself had just taken a bride from
+a dairy. (You have read Meredith's account of that affair? No? You
+should.)  Whether it was veritable love or mere modishness that formed
+my ancestor's resolve, presently the bells were ringing out, and the
+oldest elm in the park was being felled, in Meg Speedwell's honour,
+and the children were strewing daisies on which Meg Speedwell trod, a
+proud young hoyden of a bride, with her head in the air and her heart
+in the seventh heaven. The Duke had given her already a horde of fine
+gifts; but these, he had said, were nothing--trash in comparison with
+the gift that was to ensure for her a perdurable felicity. After the
+wedding-breakfast, when all the squires had ridden away on their cobs,
+and all the squires' ladies in their coaches, the Duke led his bride
+forth from the hall, leaning on her arm, till they came to a little
+edifice of new white stone, very spick and span, with two lattice-
+windows and a bright green door between. This he bade her enter.
+A-flutter with excitement, she turned the handle. In a moment she
+flounced back, red with shame and anger--flounced forth from the
+fairest, whitest, dapperest dairy, wherein was all of the best that
+the keenest dairy-maid might need. The Duke bade her dry her eyes, for
+that it ill befitted a great lady to be weeping on her wedding-day.
+'As for gratitude,' he chuckled, 'zounds! that is a wine all the
+better for the keeping.'  Duchess Meg soon forgot this unworthy
+wedding-gift, such was her rapture in the other, the so august,
+appurtenances of her new life. What with her fine silk gowns and
+farthingales, and her powder-closet, and the canopied bed she slept
+in--a bed bigger far than the room she had slept in with her sisters,
+and standing in a room far bigger than her father's cottage; and what
+with Betty, her maid, who had pinched and teased her at the
+village-school, but now waited on her so meekly and trembled so
+fearfully at a scolding; and what with the fine hot dishes that were
+set before her every day, and the gallant speeches and glances of the
+fine young gentlemen whom the Duke invited from London, Duchess Meg
+was quite the happiest Duchess in all England. For a while, she was
+like a child in a hay-rick. But anon, as the sheer delight of novelty
+wore away, she began to take a more serious view of her position. She
+began to realise her responsibilities. She was determined to do all
+that a great lady ought to do. Twice every day she assumed the
+vapours. She schooled herself in the mysteries of Ombre, of Macao. She
+spent hours over the tambour-frame. She rode out on horse-back, with a
+riding-master. She had a music-master to teach her the spinet; a
+dancing-master, too, to teach her the Minuet and the Triumph and the
+Gaudy. All these accomplishments she found mighty hard. She was afraid
+of her horse. All the morning, she dreaded the hour when it would be
+brought round from the stables. She dreaded her dancing-lesson. Try as
+she would, she could but stamp her feet flat on the parquet, as though
+it had been the village-green. She dreaded her music-lesson. Her
+fingers, disobedient to her ambition, clumsily thumped the keys of the
+spinet, and by the notes of the score propped up before her she was as
+cruelly perplexed as by the black and red pips of the cards she conned
+at the gaming-table, or by the red and gold threads that were always
+straying and snapping on her tambour-frame. Still she persevered. Day
+in, day out, sullenly, she worked hard to be a great lady. But skill
+came not to her, and hope dwindled; only the dull effort remained. One
+accomplishment she did master--to wit, the vapours: they became for
+her a dreadful reality. She lost her appetite for the fine hot dishes.
+All night long she lay awake, restless, tearful, under the fine silk
+canopy, till dawn stared her into slumber. She seldom scolded Betty.
+She who had been so lusty and so blooming saw in her mirror that she
+was pale and thin now; and the fine young gentlemen, seeing it too,
+paid more heed now to their wine and their dice than to her. And
+always, when she met him, the Duke smiled the same mocking smile.
+Duchess Meg was pining slowly and surely away . . . One morning, in
+Spring-time, she altogether vanished. Betty, bringing the cup of
+chocolate to the bedside, found the bed empty. She raised the alarm
+among her fellows. They searched high and low. Nowhere was their
+mistress. The news was broken to their master, who, without comment,
+rose, bade his man dress him, and presently walked out to the place
+where he knew he would find her. And there, to be sure, she was,
+churning, churning for dear life. Her sleeves were rolled above her
+elbows, and her skirt was kilted high; and, as she looked back over
+her shoulder and saw the Duke, there was the flush of roses in her
+cheeks, and the light of a thousand thanks in her eyes. 'Oh,' she
+cried, 'what a curtsey I would drop you, but that to let go the handle
+were to spoil all!'  And every morning, ever after, she woke when the
+birds woke, rose when they rose, and went singing through the dawn to
+the dairy, there to practise for her pleasure that sweet and lowly
+handicraft which she had once practised for her need. And every
+evening, with her milking-stool under her arm, and her milk-pail in
+her hand, she went into the field and called the cows to her, as she
+had been wont to do. To those other, those so august, accomplishments
+she no more pretended. She gave them the go-by. And all the old zest
+and joyousness of her life came back to her. Soundlier than ever slept
+she, and sweetlier dreamed, under the fine silk canopy, till the birds
+called her to her work. Greater than ever was her love of the fine
+furbelows that were hers to flaunt in, and sharper her appetite for
+the fine hot dishes, and more tempestuous her scolding of Betty, poor
+maid. She was more than ever now the cynosure, the adored, of the fine
+young gentlemen. And as for her husband, she looked up to him as the
+wisest, kindest man in all the world."
+
+"And the fine young gentlemen," said Zuleika, "did she fall in love
+with any of them?"
+
+"You forget," said the Duke coldly, "she was married to a member of my
+family."
+
+"Oh, I beg your pardon. But tell me: did they ALL adore her?"
+
+"Yes. Every one of them, wildly, madly."
+
+"Ah," murmured Zuleika, with a smile of understanding. A shadow
+crossed her face, "Even so," she said, with some pique, "I don't
+suppose she had so very many adorers. She never went out into the
+world."
+
+"Tankerton," said the Duke drily, "is a large house, and my great-
+great-grandfather was the most hospitable of men. However," he added,
+marvelling that she had again missed the point so utterly, "my purpose
+was not to confront you with a past rival in conquest, but to set at
+rest a fear which I had, I think, roused in you by my somewhat full
+description of the high majestic life to which you, as my bride, would
+be translated."
+
+"A fear? What sort of a fear?"
+
+"That you would not breathe freely--that you would starve (if I may
+use a somewhat fantastic figure) among those strawberry-leaves. And so
+I told you the story of Meg Speedwell, and how she lived happily ever
+after. Nay, hear me out! The blood of Meg Speedwell's lord flows in my
+veins. I think I may boast that I have inherited something of his
+sagacity. In any case, I can profit by his example. Do not fear that
+I, if you were to wed me, should demand a metamorphosis of your
+present self. I should take you as you are, gladly. I should encourage
+you to be always exactly as you are--a radiant, irresistible member of
+the upper middle-class, with a certain freedom of manner acquired
+through a life of peculiar liberty. Can you guess what would be my
+principal wedding-gift to you? Meg Speedwell had her dairy. For you,
+would be built another outhouse--a neat hall wherein you would perform
+your conjuring-tricks, every evening except Sunday, before me and my
+tenants and my servants, and before such of my neighbours as might
+care to come. None would respect you the less, seeing that I approved.
+Thus in you would the pleasant history of Meg Speedwell repeat itself.
+You, practising for your pleasure--nay, hear me out!--that sweet and
+lowly handicraft which--"
+
+"I won't listen to another word!" cried Zuleika. "You are the most
+insolent person I have ever met. I happen to come of a particularly
+good family. I move in the best society. My manners are absolutely
+perfect. If I found myself in the shoes of twenty Duchesses
+simultaneously, I should know quite well how to behave. As for the one
+pair you can offer me, I kick them away--so. I kick them back at you.
+I tell you--"
+
+"Hush," said the Duke, "hush! You are over-excited. There will be a
+crowd under my window. There, there! I am sorry. I thought--"
+
+"Oh, I know what you thought," said Zuleika, in a quieter tone. "I am
+sure you meant well. I am sorry I lost my temper. Only, you might have
+given me credit for meaning what I said: that I would not marry you,
+because I did not love you. I daresay there would be great advantages
+in being your Duchess. But the fact is, I have no worldly wisdom. To
+me, marriage is a sacrament. I could no more marry a man about whom I
+could not make a fool of myself than I could marry one who made a fool
+of himself about me. Else had I long ceased to be a spinster. Oh my
+friend, do not imagine that I have not rejected, in my day, a score of
+suitors quite as eligible as you."
+
+"As eligible? Who were they?" frowned the Duke.
+
+"Oh, Archduke this, and Grand Duke that, and His Serene Highness the
+other. I have a wretched memory for names."
+
+"And my name, too, will soon escape you, perhaps?"
+
+"No. Oh, no. I shall always remember yours. You see, I was in love
+with you. You deceived me into loving you . . ." She sighed. "Oh, had
+you but been as strong as I thought you . . . Still, a swain the more.
+That is something." She leaned forward, smiling archly. "Those
+studs--show me them again."
+
+The Duke displayed them in the hollow of his hand. She touched them
+lightly, reverently, as a tourist touches a sacred relic in a church.
+
+At length, "Do give me them," she said. "I will keep them in a little
+secret partition of my jewel-case." The Duke had closed his fist.
+"Do!" she pleaded. "My other jewels--they have no separate meanings
+for me. I never remember who gave me this one or that. These would be
+quite different. I should always remember their history . . . Do!"
+
+"Ask me for anything else," said the Duke. "These are the one thing I
+could not part with--even to you, for whose sake they are hallowed."
+
+Zuleika pouted. On the verge of persisting, she changed her mind, and
+was silent.
+
+"Well!" she said abruptly, "how about these races? Are you going to
+take me to see them?"
+
+"Races? What races?" murmured the Duke. "Oh yes. I had forgotten. Do
+you really mean that you want to see them?"
+
+"Why, of course! They are great fun, aren't they?"
+
+"And you are in a mood for great fun? Well, there is plenty of time.
+The Second Division is not rowed till half-past four."
+
+"The Second Division? Why not take me to the First?"
+
+"That is not rowed till six."
+
+"Isn't this rather an odd arrangement?"
+
+"No doubt. But Oxford never pretended to be strong in mathematics."
+
+"Why, it's not yet three!" cried Zuleika, with a woebegone stare at
+the clock. "What is to be done in the meantime?"
+
+"Am not I sufficiently diverting?" asked the Duke bitterly.
+
+"Quite candidly, no. Have you any friend lodging with you here?"
+
+"One, overhead. A man named Noaks."
+
+"A small man, with spectacles?"
+
+"Very small, with very large spectacles."
+
+"He was pointed out to me yesterday, as I was driving from the Station
+. . . No, I don't think I want to meet him. What can you have in
+common with him?"
+
+"One frailty, at least: he, too, Miss Dobson, loves you."
+
+"But of course he does. He saw me drive past. Very few of the others,"
+she said, rising and shaking herself, "have set eyes on me. Do let us
+go out and look at the Colleges. I do need change of scene. If you
+were a doctor, you would have prescribed that long ago. It is very bad
+for me to be here, a kind of Cinderella, moping over the ashes of my
+love for you. Where is your hat?"
+
+Looking round, she caught sight of herself in the glass. "Oh," she
+cried, "what a fright I do look! I must never be seen like this!"
+
+"You look very beautiful."
+
+"I don't. That is a lover's illusion. You yourself told me that this
+tartan was perfectly hideous. There was no need to tell me that. I
+came thus because I was coming to see you. I chose this frock in the
+deliberate fear that you, if I made myself presentable, might succumb
+at second sight of me. I would have sent out for a sack and dressed
+myself in that, I would have blacked my face all over with burnt cork,
+only I was afraid of being mobbed on the way to you."
+
+"Even so, you would but have been mobbed for your incorrigible
+beauty."
+
+"My beauty! How I hate it!" sighed Zuleika. "Still, here it is, and I
+must needs make the best of it. Come! Take me to Judas. I will change
+my things. Then I shall be fit for the races."
+
+As these two emerged, side by side, into the street, the Emperors
+exchanged stony sidelong glances. For they saw the more than normal
+pallor of the Duke's face, and something very like desperation in his
+eyes. They saw the tragedy progressing to its foreseen close. Unable
+to stay its course, they were grimly fascinated now.
+
+
+VI
+
+"The evil that men do lives after them; the good is oft interred with
+their bones." At any rate, the sinner has a better chance than the
+saint of being hereafter remembered. We, in whom original sin
+preponderates, find him easier to understand. He is near to us, clear
+to us. The saint is remote, dim. A very great saint may, of course, be
+remembered through some sheer force of originality in him; and then
+the very mystery that involves him for us makes him the harder to
+forget: he haunts us the more surely because we shall never understand
+him. But the ordinary saints grow faint to posterity; whilst quite
+ordinary sinners pass vividly down the ages.
+
+Of the disciples of Jesus, which is he that is most often remembered
+and cited by us? Not the disciple whom Jesus loved; neither of the
+Boanerges, nor any other of them who so steadfastly followed Him and
+served Him; but the disciple who betrayed Him for thirty pieces of
+silver. Judas Iscariot it is who outstands, overshadowing those other
+fishermen. And perhaps it was by reason of this precedence that
+Christopher Whitrid, Knight, in the reign of Henry VI., gave the name
+of Judas to the College which he had founded. Or perhaps it was
+because he felt that in a Christian community not even the meanest and
+basest of men should be accounted beneath contempt, beyond redemption.
+
+At any rate, thus he named his foundation. And, though for Oxford men
+the savour of the name itself has long evaporated through its local
+connexion, many things show that for the Founder himself it was no
+empty vocable. In a niche above the gate stands a rudely carved statue
+of Judas, holding a money-bag in his right hand. Among the original
+statutes of the College is one by which the Bursar is enjoined to
+distribute in Passion Week thirty pieces of silver among the needier
+scholars "for saike of atonynge." The meadow adjoining the back of the
+College has been called from time immemorial "the Potter's Field." And
+the name of Salt Cellar is not less ancient and significant.
+
+Salt Cellar, that grey and green quadrangle visible from the room
+assigned to Zuleika, is very beautiful, as I have said. So tranquil is
+it as to seem remote not merely from the world, but even from Oxford,
+so deeply is it hidden away in the core of Oxford's heart. So tranquil
+is it, one would guess that nothing had ever happened in it. For five
+centuries these walls have stood, and during that time have beheld,
+one would say, no sight less seemly than the good work of weeding,
+mowing, rolling, that has made, at length, so exemplary the lawn.
+These cloisters that grace the south and east sides--five centuries
+have passed through them, leaving in them no echo, leaving on them no
+sign, of all that the outer world, for good or evil, has been doing so
+fiercely, so raucously.
+
+And yet, if you are versed in the antiquities of Oxford, you know that
+this small, still quadrangle has played its part in the rough-and-
+tumble of history, and has been the background of high passions and
+strange fates. The sun-dial in its midst has told the hours to more
+than one bygone King. Charles I. lay for twelve nights in Judas; and
+it was here, in this very quadrangle, that he heard from the lips of a
+breathless and blood-stained messenger the news of Chalgrove Field.
+Sixty years later, James, his son, came hither, black with threats,
+and from one of the hind-windows of the Warden's house--maybe, from
+the very room where now Zuleika was changing her frock--addressed the
+Fellows, and presented to them the Papist by him chosen to be their
+Warden, instead of the Protestant whom they had elected. They were not
+of so stern a stuff as the Fellows of Magdalen, who, despite His
+Majesty's menaces, had just rejected Bishop Farmer. The Papist was
+elected, there and then, al fresco, without dissent. Cannot one see
+them, these Fellows of Judas, huddled together round the sun-dial,
+like so many sheep in a storm? The King's wrath, according to a
+contemporary record, was so appeased by their pliancy that he deigned
+to lie for two nights in Judas, and at a grand refection in Hall "was
+gracious and merrie." Perhaps it was in lingering gratitude for such
+patronage that Judas remained so pious to his memory even after smug
+Herrenhausen had been dumped down on us for ever. Certainly, of all
+the Colleges none was more ardent than Judas for James Stuart. Thither
+it was that young Sir Harry Esson led, under cover of night, three-
+score recruits whom he had enlisted in the surrounding villages. The
+cloisters of Salt Cellar were piled with arms and stores; and on its
+grass--its sacred grass!--the squad was incessantly drilled, against
+the good day when Ormond should land his men in Devon. For a whole
+month Salt Cellar was a secret camp. But somehow, at length--woe to
+"lost causes and impossible loyalties"--Herrenhausen had wind of it;
+and one night, when the soldiers of the white cockade lay snoring
+beneath the stars, stealthily the white-faced Warden unbarred his
+postern--that very postern through which now Zuleika had passed on the
+way to her bedroom--and stealthily through it, one by one on tip-toe,
+came the King's foot-guards. Not many shots rang out, nor many swords
+clashed, in the night air, before the trick was won for law and order.
+Most of the rebels were overpowered in their sleep; and those who had
+time to snatch arms were too dazed to make good resistance. Sir Harry
+Esson himself was the only one who did not live to be hanged. He had
+sprung up alert, sword in hand, at the first alarm, setting his back
+to the cloisters. There he fought calmly, ferociously, till a bullet
+went through his chest. "By God, this College is well-named!" were the
+words he uttered as he fell forward and died.
+
+Comparatively tame was the scene now being enacted in this place. The
+Duke, with bowed head, was pacing the path between the lawn and the
+cloisters. Two other undergraduates stood watching him, whispering to
+each other, under the archway that leads to the Front Quadrangle.
+Presently, in a sheepish way, they approached him. He halted and
+looked up.
+
+"I say," stammered the spokesman.
+
+"Well?" asked the Duke. Both youths were slightly acquainted with him;
+but he was not used to being spoken to by those whom he had not first
+addressed. Moreover, he was loth to be thus disturbed in his sombre
+reverie. His manner was not encouraging.
+
+"Isn't it a lovely day for the Eights?" faltered the spokesman.
+
+"I conceive," the Duke said, "that you hold back some other question."
+
+The spokesman smiled weakly. Nudged by the other, he muttered "Ask him
+yourself!"
+
+The Duke diverted his gaze to the other, who, with an angry look at
+the one, cleared his throat, and said "I was going to ask if you
+thought Miss Dobson would come and have luncheon with me to-morrow?"
+
+"A sister of mine will be there," explained the one, knowing the Duke
+to be a precisian.
+
+"If you are acquainted with Miss Dobson, a direct invitation should be
+sent to her," said the Duke. "If you are not--"  The aposiopesis was
+icy.
+
+"Well, you see," said the other of the two, "that is just the
+difficulty. I AM acquainted with her. But is she acquainted with ME? I
+met her at breakfast this morning, at the Warden's."
+
+"So did I," added the one.
+
+"But she--well," continued the other, "she didn't take much notice of
+us. She seemed to be in a sort of dream."
+
+"Ah!" murmured the Duke, with melancholy interest.
+
+"The only time she opened her lips," said the other, "was when she
+asked us whether we took tea or coffee."
+
+"She put hot milk in my tea," volunteered the one, "and upset the cup
+over my hand, and smiled vaguely."
+
+"And smiled vaguely," sighed the Duke.
+
+"She left us long before the marmalade stage," said the one.
+
+"Without a word," said the other.
+
+"Without a glance?" asked the Duke. It was testified by the one and
+the other that there had been not so much as a glance.
+
+"Doubtless," the disingenuous Duke said, "she had a headache . . . Was
+she pale?"
+
+"Very pale," answered the one.
+
+"A healthy pallor," qualified the other, who was a constant reader of
+novels.
+
+"Did she look," the Duke inquired, "as if she had spent a sleepless
+night?"
+
+That was the impression made on both.
+
+"Yet she did not seem listless or unhappy?"
+
+No, they would not go so far as to say that.
+
+"Indeed, were her eyes of an almost unnatural brilliance?"
+
+"Quite unnatural," confessed the one.
+
+"Twin stars," interpolated the other.
+
+"Did she, in fact, seem to be consumed by some inward rapture?"
+
+Yes, now they came to think of it, this was exactly how she HAD
+seemed.
+
+It was sweet, it was bitter, for the Duke. "I remember," Zuleika had
+said to him, "nothing that happened to me this morning till I found
+myself at your door." It was bitter-sweet to have that outline filled
+in by these artless pencils. No, it was only bitter, to be, at his
+time of life, living in the past.
+
+"The purpose of your tattle?" he asked coldly.
+
+The two youths hurried to the point from which he had diverted them.
+"When she went by with you just now," said the one, "she evidently
+didn't know us from Adam."
+
+"And I had so hoped to ask her to luncheon," said the other.
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Well, we wondered if you would re-introduce us. And then
+perhaps . . ."
+
+There was a pause. The Duke was touched to kindness for these fellow-
+lovers. He would fain preserve them from the anguish that beset
+himself. So humanising is sorrow.
+
+"You are in love with Miss Dobson?" he asked.
+
+Both nodded.
+
+"Then," said he, "you will in time be thankful to me for not affording
+you further traffic with that lady. To love and be scorned--does Fate
+hold for us a greater inconvenience? You think I beg the question? Let
+me tell you that I, too, love Miss Dobson, and that she scorns me."
+
+To the implied question "What chance would there be for you?" the
+reply was obvious.
+
+Amazed, abashed, the two youths turned on their heels.
+
+"Stay!" said the Duke. "Let me, in justice to myself, correct an
+inference you may have drawn. It is not by reason of any defect in
+myself, perceived or imagined, that Miss Dobson scorns me. She scorns
+me simply because I love her. All who love her she scorns. To see her
+is to love her. Therefore shut your eyes to her. Strictly exclude her
+from your horizon. Ignore her. Will you do this?"
+
+"We will try," said the one, after a pause.
+
+"Thank you very much," added the other.
+
+The Duke watched them out of sight. He wished he could take the good
+advice he had given them . . . Suppose he did take it! Suppose he went
+to the Bursar, obtained an exeat, fled straight to London! What just
+humiliation for Zuleika to come down and find her captive gone! He
+pictured her staring around the quadrangle, ranging the cloisters,
+calling to him. He pictured her rustling to the gate of the College,
+inquiring at the porter's lodge. "His Grace, Miss, he passed through a
+minute ago. He's going down this afternoon."
+
+Yet, even while his fancy luxuriated in this scheme, he well knew that
+he would not accomplish anything of the kind--knew well that he would
+wait here humbly, eagerly, even though Zuleika lingered over her
+toilet till crack o' doom. He had no desire that was not centred in
+her. Take away his love for her, and what remained? Nothing--though
+only in the past twenty-four hours had this love been added to him.
+Ah, why had he ever seen her? He thought of his past, its cold
+splendour and insouciance. But he knew that for him there was no
+returning. His boats were burnt. The Cytherean babes had set their
+torches to that flotilla, and it had blazed like match-wood. On the
+isle of the enchantress he was stranded for ever. For ever stranded on
+the isle of an enchantress who would have nothing to do with him!
+What, he wondered, should be done in so piteous a quandary? There
+seemed to be two courses. One was to pine slowly and painfully away.
+The other . . .
+
+Academically, the Duke had often reasoned that a man for whom life
+holds no chance of happiness cannot too quickly shake life off. Now,
+of a sudden, there was for that theory a vivid application.
+
+"Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer" was not a point by which
+he, "more an antique Roman than a Dane," was at all troubled. Never
+had he given ear to that cackle which is called Public Opinion. The
+judgment of his peers--this, he had often told himself, was the sole
+arbitrage he could submit to; but then, who was to be on the bench?
+Peerless, he was irresponsible--the captain of his soul, the despot of
+his future. No injunction but from himself would he bow to; and his
+own injunctions--so little Danish was he--had always been peremptory
+and lucid. Lucid and peremptory, now, the command he issued to
+himself.
+
+"So sorry to have been so long," carolled a voice from above. The Duke
+looked up. "I'm all but ready," said Zuleika at her window.
+
+That brief apparition changed the colour of his resolve. He realised
+that to die for love of this lady would be no mere measure of
+precaution, or counsel of despair. It would be in itself a passionate
+indulgence--a fiery rapture, not to be foregone. What better could he
+ask than to die for his love? Poor indeed seemed to him now the
+sacrament of marriage beside the sacrament of death. Death was
+incomparably the greater, the finer soul. Death was the one true
+bridal.
+
+He flung back his head, spread wide his arms, quickened his pace
+almost to running speed. Ah, he would win his bride before the setting
+of the sun. He knew not by what means he would win her. Enough that
+even now, full-hearted, fleet-footed, he was on his way to her, and
+that she heard him coming.
+
+When Zuleika, a vision in vaporous white, came out through the
+postern, she wondered why he was walking at so remarkable a pace. To
+him, wildly expressing in his movement the thought within him, she
+appeared as his awful bride. With a cry of joy, he bounded towards
+her, and would have caught her in his arms, had she not stepped nimbly
+aside.
+
+"Forgive me!" he said, after a pause. "It was a mistake--an idiotic
+mistake of identity. I thought you were . . ."
+
+Zuleika, rigid, asked "Have I many doubles?"
+
+"You know well that in all the world is none so blest as to be like
+you. I can only say that I was over-wrought. I can only say that it
+shall not occur again."
+
+She was very angry indeed. Of his penitence there could be no doubt.
+But there are outrages for which no penitence can atone. This seemed
+to be one of them. Her first impulse was to dismiss the Duke forthwith
+and for ever. But she wanted to show herself at the races. And she
+could not go alone. And except the Duke there was no one to take her.
+True, there was the concert to-night; and she could show herself there
+to advantage; but she wanted ALL Oxford to see her--see her NOW.
+
+"I am forgiven?" he asked. In her, I am afraid, self-respect
+outweighed charity. "I will try," she said merely, "to forget what you
+have done." Motioning him to her side, she opened her parasol, and
+signified her readiness to start.
+
+They passed together across the vast gravelled expanse of the Front
+Quadrangle. In the porch of the College there were, as usual, some
+chained-up dogs, patiently awaiting their masters. Zuleika, of course,
+did not care for dogs. One has never known a good man to whom dogs
+were not dear; but many of the best women have no such fondness. You
+will find that the woman who is really kind to dogs is always one who
+has failed to inspire sympathy in men. For the attractive woman, dogs
+are mere dumb and restless brutes--possibly dangerous, certainly
+soulless. Yet will coquetry teach her to caress any dog in the
+presence of a man enslaved by her. Even Zuleika, it seems, was not
+above this rather obvious device for awaking envy. Be sure she did not
+at all like the look of the very big bulldog who was squatting outside
+the porter's lodge. Perhaps, but for her present anger, she would not
+have stooped endearingly down to him, as she did, cooing over him and
+trying to pat his head. Alas, her pretty act was a failure. The
+bulldog cowered away from her, horrifically grimacing. This was
+strange. Like the majority of his breed, Corker (for such was his
+name) had ever been wistful to be noticed by any one--effusively
+grateful for every word or pat, an ever-ready wagger and nuzzler, to
+none ineffable. No beggar, no burglar, had ever been rebuffed by this
+catholic beast. But he drew the line at Zuleika.
+
+Seldom is even a fierce bulldog heard to growl. Yet Corker growled at
+Zuleika.
+
+
+VII
+
+The Duke did not try to break the stony silence in which Zuleika
+walked. Her displeasure was a luxury to him, for it was so soon to be
+dispelled. A little while, and she would be hating herself for her
+pettiness. Here was he, going to die for her; and here was she,
+blaming him for a breach of manners. Decidedly, the slave had the
+whip-hand. He stole a sidelong look at her, and could not repress a
+smile. His features quickly composed themselves. The Triumph of Death
+must not be handled as a cheap score. He wanted to die because he
+would thereby so poignantly consummate his love, express it so
+completely, once and for all . . . And she--who could say that she,
+knowing what he had done, might not, illogically, come to love him?
+Perhaps she would devote her life to mourning him. He saw her bending
+over his tomb, in beautiful humble curves, under a starless sky,
+watering the violets with her tears.
+
+Shades of Novalis and Friedrich Schlegel and other despicable
+maunderers! He brushed them aside. He would be practical. The point
+was, when and how to die? Time: the sooner the better. Manner: . .
+less easy to determine. He must not die horribly, nor without dignity.
+The manner of the Roman philosophers? But the only kind of bath which
+an undergraduate can command is a hip-bath. Stay! there was the river.
+Drowning (he had often heard) was a rather pleasant sensation. And to
+the river he was even now on his way.
+
+It troubled him that he could swim. Twice, indeed, from his yacht, he
+had swum the Hellespont. And how about the animal instinct of self-
+preservation, strong even in despair? No matter! His soul's set
+purpose would subdue that. The law of gravitation that brings one to
+the surface? There his very skill in swimming would help him. He would
+swim under water, along the river-bed, swim till he found weeds to
+cling to, weird strong weeds that he would coil round him, exulting
+faintly . . .
+
+As they turned into Radcliffe Square, the Duke's ear caught the sound
+of a far-distant gun. He started, and looked up at the clock of St.
+Mary's. Half-past four! The boats had started.
+
+He had heard that whenever a woman was to blame for a disappointment,
+the best way to avoid a scene was to inculpate oneself. He did not
+wish Zuleika to store up yet more material for penitence. And so "I am
+sorry," he said. "That gun--did you hear it? It was the signal for the
+race. I shall never forgive myself."
+
+"Then we shan't see the race at all?" cried Zuleika.
+
+"It will be over, alas, before we are near the river. All the people
+will be coming back through the meadows."
+
+"Let us meet them."
+
+"Meet a torrent? Let us have tea in my rooms and go down quietly for
+the other Division."
+
+"Let us go straight on."
+
+Through the square, across the High, down Grove Street, they passed.
+The Duke looked up at the tower of Merton, "os oupot authis alla nyn
+paunstaton." Strange that to-night it would still be standing here, in
+all its sober and solid beauty--still be gazing, over the roofs and
+chimneys, at the tower of Magdalen, its rightful bride. Through untold
+centuries of the future it would stand thus, gaze thus. He winced.
+Oxford walls have a way of belittling us; and the Duke was loth to
+regard his doom as trivial.
+
+Aye, by all minerals we are mocked. Vegetables, yearly deciduous, are
+far more sympathetic. The lilac and laburnum, making lovely now the
+railed pathway to Christ Church meadow, were all a-swaying and
+a-nodding to the Duke as he passed by. "Adieu, adieu, your Grace,"
+they were whispering. "We are very sorry for you--very sorry indeed.
+We never dared suppose you would predecease us. We think your death a
+very great tragedy. Adieu! Perhaps we shall meet in another world--
+that is, if the members of the animal kingdom have immortal souls, as
+we have."
+
+The Duke was little versed in their language; yet, as he passed
+between these gently garrulous blooms, he caught at least the drift of
+their salutation, and smiled a vague but courteous acknowledgment, to
+the right and the left alternately, creating a very favourable
+impression.
+
+No doubt, the young elms lining the straight way to the barges had
+seen him coming; but any whispers of their leaves were lost in the
+murmur of the crowd returning from the race. Here, at length, came the
+torrent of which the Duke had spoken; and Zuleika's heart rose at it.
+Here was Oxford! From side to side the avenue was filled with a dense
+procession of youths--youths interspersed with maidens whose parasols
+were as flotsam and jetsam on a seething current of straw hats.
+Zuleika neither quickened nor slackened her advance. But brightlier
+and brightlier shone her eyes.
+
+The vanguard of the procession was pausing now, swaying, breaking at
+sight of her. She passed, imperial, through the way cloven for her.
+All a-down the avenue, the throng parted as though some great
+invisible comb were being drawn through it. The few youths who had
+already seen Zuleika, and by whom her beauty had been bruited
+throughout the University, were lost in a new wonder, so incomparably
+fairer was she than the remembered vision. And the rest hardly
+recognised her from the descriptions, so incomparably fairer was the
+reality than the hope.
+
+She passed among them. None questioned the worthiness of her escort.
+Could I give you better proof the awe in which our Duke was held? Any
+man is glad to be seen escorting a very pretty woman. He thinks it
+adds to his prestige. Whereas, in point of fact, his fellow-men are
+saying merely "Who's that appalling fellow with her?" or "Why does she
+go about with that ass So-and-So?" Such cavil may in part be envy. But
+it is a fact that no man, howsoever graced, can shine in juxtaposition
+to a very pretty woman. The Duke himself cut a poor figure beside
+Zuleika. Yet not one of all the undergraduates felt she could have
+made a wiser choice.
+
+She swept among them. Her own intrinsic radiance was not all that
+flashed from her. She was a moving reflector and refractor of all the
+rays of all the eyes that mankind had turned on her. Her mien told the
+story of her days. Bright eyes, light feet--she trod erect from a
+vista whose glare was dazzling to all beholders. She swept among them,
+a miracle, overwhelming, breath-bereaving. Nothing at all like her had
+ever been seen in Oxford.
+
+Mainly architectural, the beauties of Oxford. True, the place is no
+longer one-sexed. There are the virguncules of Somerville and Lady
+Margaret's Hall; but beauty and the lust for learning have yet to be
+allied. There are the innumerable wives and daughters around the
+Parks, running in and out of their little red-brick villas; but the
+indignant shade of celibacy seems to have called down on the dons a
+Nemesis which precludes them from either marrying beauty or begetting
+it. (From the Warden's son, that unhappy curate, Zuleika inherited no
+tittle of her charm. Some of it, there is no doubt, she did inherit
+from the circus-rider who was her mother.)
+
+But the casual feminine visitors? Well, the sisters and cousins of an
+undergraduate seldom seem more passable to his comrades than to
+himself. Altogether, the instinct of sex is not pandered to in Oxford.
+It is not, however, as it may once have been, dormant. The modern
+importation of samples of femininity serves to keep it alert, though
+not to gratify it. A like result is achieved by another modern
+development--photography. The undergraduate may, and usually does,
+surround himself with photographs of pretty ladies known to the
+public. A phantom harem! Yet the houris have an effect on their
+sultan. Surrounded both by plain women of flesh and blood and by
+beauteous women on pasteboard, the undergraduate is the easiest victim
+of living loveliness--is as a fire ever well and truly laid, amenable
+to a spark. And if the spark be such a flaring torch as Zuleika?--
+marvel not, reader, at the conflagration.
+
+Not only was the whole throng of youths drawing asunder before her:
+much of it, as she passed, was forming up in her wake. Thus, with the
+confluence of two masses--one coming away from the river, the other
+returning to it--chaos seethed around her and the Duke before they
+were half-way along the avenue. Behind them, and on either side of
+them, the people were crushed inextricably together, swaying and
+surging this way and that. "Help!" cried many a shrill feminine voice.
+"Don't push!" "Let me out!" "You brute!" "Save me, save me!" Many
+ladies fainted, whilst their escorts, supporting them and protecting
+them as best they could, peered over the heads of their fellows for
+one glimpse of the divine Miss Dobson. Yet for her and the Duke, in
+the midst of the terrific compress, there was space enough. In front
+of them, as by a miracle of deference, a way still cleared itself.
+They reached the end of the avenue without a pause in their measured
+progress. Nor even when they turned to the left, along the rather
+narrow path beside the barges, was there any obstacle to their
+advance. Passing evenly forward, they alone were cool, unhustled,
+undishevelled.
+
+The Duke was so rapt in his private thoughts that he was hardly
+conscious of the strange scene. And as for Zuleika, she, as well she
+might be, was in the very best of good humours.
+
+"What a lot of house-boats!" she exclaimed. "Are you going to take me
+on to one of them?"
+
+The Duke started. Already they were alongside the Judas barge. "Here,"
+he said, "is our goal."
+
+He stepped through the gate of the railings, out upon the plank, and
+offered her his hand.
+
+She looked back. The young men in the vanguard were crushing their
+shoulders against the row behind them, to stay the oncoming host. She
+had half a mind to go back through the midst of them; but she really
+did want her tea, and she followed the Duke on to the barge, and under
+his auspices climbed the steps to the roof.
+
+It looked very cool and gay, this roof, under its awning of red and
+white stripes. Nests of red and white flowers depended along either
+side of it. Zuleika moved to the side which commanded a view of the
+bank. She leaned her arms on the balustrade, and gazed down.
+
+The crowd stretched as far as she could see--a vista of faces upturned
+to her. Suddenly it hove forward. Its vanguard was swept irresistibly
+past the barge--swept by the desire of the rest to see her at closer
+quarters. Such was the impetus that the vision for each man was but a
+lightning-flash: he was whirled past, struggling, almost before his
+brain took the message of his eyes.
+
+Those who were Judas men made frantic efforts to board the barge,
+trying to hurl themselves through the gate in the railings; but they
+were swept vainly on.
+
+Presently the torrent began to slacken, became a mere river, a mere
+procession of youths staring up rather shyly.
+
+Before the last stragglers had marched by, Zuleika moved away to the
+other side of the roof, and, after a glance at the sunlit river, sank
+into one of the wicker chairs, and asked the Duke to look less
+disagreeable and to give her some tea.
+
+Among others hovering near the little buffet were the two youths whose
+parley with the Duke I have recorded.
+
+Zuleika was aware of the special persistence of their gaze. When the
+Duke came back with her cup, she asked him who they were. He replied,
+truthfully enough, that their names were unknown to him.
+
+"Then," she said, "ask them their names, and introduce them to me."
+
+"No," said the Duke, sinking into the chair beside her. "That I shall
+not do. I am your victim: not your pander. Those two men stand on the
+threshold of a possibly useful and agreeable career. I am not going to
+trip them up for you."
+
+"I am not sure," said Zuleika, "that you are very polite. Certainly
+you are foolish. It is natural for boys to fall in love. If these two
+are in love with me, why not let them talk to me? It were an
+experience on which they would always look back with romantic
+pleasure. They may never see me again. Why grudge them this little
+thing?" She sipped her tea. "As for tripping them up on a threshold--
+that is all nonsense. What harm has unrequited love ever done to
+anybody?" She laughed. "Look at ME!  When I came to your rooms this
+morning, thinking I loved in vain, did I seem one jot the worse for
+it? Did I look different?"
+
+"You looked, I am bound to say, nobler, more spiritual."
+
+"More spiritual?" she exclaimed. "Do you mean I looked tired or ill?"
+
+"No, you seemed quite fresh. But then, you are singular. You are no
+criterion."
+
+"You mean you can't judge those two young men by me? Well, I am only a
+woman, of course. I have heard of women, no longer young, wasting away
+because no man loved them. I have often heard of a young woman
+fretting because some particular young man didn't love her. But I
+never heard of her wasting away. Certainly a young man doesn't waste
+away for love of some particular young woman. He very soon makes love
+to some other one. If his be an ardent nature, the quicker his
+transition. All the most ardent of my past adorers have married. Will
+you put my cup down, please?"
+
+"Past?" echoed the Duke, as he placed her cup on the floor. "Have any
+of your lovers ceased to love you?"
+
+"Ah no, no; not in retrospect. I remain their ideal, and all that, of
+course. They cherish the thought of me. They see the world in terms of
+me. But I am an inspiration, not an obsession; a glow, not a blight."
+
+"You don't believe in the love that corrodes, the love that ruins?"
+
+"No," laughed Zuleika.
+
+"You have never dipped into the Greek pastoral poets, nor sampled the
+Elizabethan sonneteers?"
+
+"No, never. You will think me lamentably crude: my experience of life
+has been drawn from life itself."
+
+"Yet often you talk as though you had read rather much. Your way of
+speech has what is called 'the literary flavour'."
+
+"Ah, that is an unfortunate trick which I caught from a writer, a Mr.
+Beerbohm, who once sat next to me at dinner somewhere. I can't break
+myself of it. I assure you I hardly ever open a book. Of life, though,
+my experience has been very wide. Brief? But I suppose the soul of man
+during the past two or three years has been much as it was in the
+reign of Queen Elizabeth and of--whoever it was that reigned over the
+Greek pastures. And I daresay the modern poets are making the same old
+silly distortions. But forgive me," she added gently, "perhaps you
+yourself are a poet?"
+
+"Only since yesterday," answered the Duke (not less unfairly to
+himself than to Roger Newdigate and Thomas Gaisford). And he felt he
+was especially a dramatic poet. All the while that she had been
+sitting by him here, talking so glibly, looking so straight into his
+eyes, flashing at him so many pretty gestures, it was the sense of
+tragic irony that prevailed in him--that sense which had stirred in
+him, and been repressed, on the way from Judas. He knew that she was
+making her effect consciously for the other young men by whom the roof
+of the barge was now thronged. Him alone she seemed to observe. By her
+manner, she might have seemed to be making love to him. He envied the
+men she was so deliberately making envious--the men whom, in her
+undertone to him, she was really addressing. But he did take comfort
+in the irony. Though she used him as a stalking-horse, he, after all,
+was playing with her as a cat plays with a mouse. While she chattered
+on, without an inkling that he was no ordinary lover, and coaxing him
+to present two quite ordinary young men to her, he held over her the
+revelation that he for love of her was about to die.
+
+And, while he drank in the radiance of her beauty, he heard her
+chattering on. "So you see," she was saying, "it couldn't do those
+young men any harm. Suppose unrequited love IS anguish: isn't the
+discipline wholesome? Suppose I AM a sort of furnace: shan't I purge,
+refine, temper? Those two boys are but scorched from here. That is
+horrid; and what good will it do them?" She laid a hand on his arm.
+"Cast them into the furnace for their own sake, dear Duke! Or cast one
+of them, or," she added, glancing round at the throng, "any one of
+these others!"
+
+"For their own sake?" he echoed, withdrawing his arm. "If you were
+not, as the whole world knows you to be, perfectly respectable, there
+might be something in what you say. But as it is, you can but be an
+engine for mischief; and your sophistries leave me unmoved. I shall
+certainly keep you to myself."
+
+"I hate you," said Zuleika, with an ugly petulance that crowned the
+irony.
+
+"So long as I live," uttered the Duke, in a level voice, "you will
+address no man but me."
+
+"If your prophecy is to be fulfilled," laughed Zuleika, rising from
+her chair, "your last moment is at hand."
+
+"It is," he answered, rising too.
+
+"What do you mean?" she asked, awed by something in his tone.
+
+"I mean what I say: that my last moment is at hand." He withdrew his
+eyes from hers, and, leaning his elbows on the balustrade, gazed
+thoughtfully at the river. "When I am dead," he added, over his
+shoulder, "you will find these fellows rather coy of your advances."
+
+For the first time since his avowal of his love for her, Zuleika found
+herself genuinely interested in him. A suspicion of his meaning had
+flashed through her soul. --But no! surely he could not mean THAT! It
+must have been a metaphor merely. And yet, something in his eyes . . .
+She leaned beside him. Her shoulder touched his. She gazed
+questioningly at him. He did not turn his face to her. He gazed
+at the sunlit river.
+
+The Judas Eight had just embarked for their voyage to the starting-
+point. Standing on the edge of the raft that makes a floating platform
+for the barge, William, the hoary bargee, was pushing them off with
+his boat-hook, wishing them luck with deferential familiarity. The
+raft was thronged with Old Judasians--mostly clergymen--who were
+shouting hearty hortations, and evidently trying not to appear so old
+as they felt--or rather, not to appear so startlingly old as their
+contemporaries looked to them. It occurred to the Duke as a strange
+thing, and a thing to be glad of, that he, in this world, would never
+be an Old Judasian. Zuleika's shoulder pressed his. He thrilled not at
+all. To all intents, he was dead already.
+
+The enormous eight young men in the thread-like skiff--the skiff that
+would scarce have seemed an adequate vehicle for the tiny "cox" who
+sat facing them--were staring up at Zuleika with that uniformity of
+impulse which, in another direction, had enabled them to bump a boat
+on two of the previous "nights." If to-night they bumped the next
+boat, Univ., then would Judas be three places "up" on the river; and
+to-morrow Judas would have a Bump Supper. Furthermore, if Univ. were
+bumped to-night, Magdalen might be bumped to-morrow. Then would Judas,
+for the first time in history, be head of the river. Oh tremulous
+hope! Yet, for the moment, these eight young men seemed to have
+forgotten the awful responsibility that rested on their over-developed
+shoulders. Their hearts, already strained by rowing, had been
+transfixed this afternoon by Eros' darts. All of them had seen Zuleika
+as she came down to the river; and now they sat gaping up at her,
+fumbling with their oars. The tiny cox gaped too; but he it was who
+first recalled duty. With piping adjurations he brought the giants
+back to their senses. The boat moved away down stream, with a fairly
+steady stroke.
+
+Not in a day can the traditions of Oxford be sent spinning. From all
+the barges the usual punt-loads of young men were being ferried across
+to the towing-path--young men naked of knee, armed with rattles,
+post-horns, motor-hooters, gongs, and other instruments of clangour.
+Though Zuleika filled their thoughts, they hurried along the
+towing-path, as by custom, to the starting-point.
+
+She, meanwhile, had not taken her eyes off the Duke's profile. Nor had
+she dared, for fear of disappointment, to ask him just what he had
+meant.
+
+"All these men," he repeated dreamily, "will be coy of your advances."
+It seemed to him a good thing that his death, his awful example, would
+disinfatuate his fellow alumni. He had never been conscious of public
+spirit. He had lived for himself alone. Love had come to him
+yesternight, and to-day had waked in him a sympathy with mankind. It
+was a fine thing to be a saviour. It was splendid to be human. He
+looked quickly round to her who had wrought this change in him.
+
+But the loveliest face in all the world will not please you if you see
+it suddenly, eye to eye, at a distance of half an inch from your own.
+It was thus that the Duke saw Zuleika's: a monstrous deliquium
+a-glare. Only for the fraction of an instant, though. Recoiling, he
+beheld the loveliness that he knew--more adorably vivid now in its
+look of eager questioning. And in his every fibre he thrilled to her.
+Even so had she gazed at him last night, this morning. Aye, now as
+then, her soul was full of him. He had recaptured, not her love, but
+his power to please her. It was enough. He bowed his head; and
+"Moriturus te saluto" were the words formed silently by his lips. He
+was glad that his death would be a public service to the University.
+But the salutary lesson of what the newspapers would call his "rash
+act" was, after all, only a side-issue. The great thing, the prospect
+that flushed his cheek, was the consummation of his own love, for its
+own sake, by his own death. And, as he met her gaze, the question that
+had already flitted through his brain found a faltering utterance; and
+"Shall you mourn me?" he asked her.
+
+But she would have no ellipses. "What are you going to do?" she
+whispered.
+
+"Do you not know?"
+
+"Tell me."
+
+"Once and for all: you cannot love me?"
+
+Slowly she shook her head. The black pearl and the pink, quivering,
+gave stress to her ultimatum. But the violet of her eyes was all but
+hidden by the dilation of her pupils.
+
+"Then," whispered the Duke, "when I shall have died, deeming life a
+vain thing without you, will the gods give you tears for me? Miss
+Dobson, will your soul awaken? When I shall have sunk for ever beneath
+these waters whose supposed purpose here this afternoon is but that
+they be ploughed by the blades of these young oarsmen, will there be
+struck from that flint, your heart, some late and momentary spark of
+pity for me?"
+
+"Why of course, of COURSE!" babbled Zuleika, with clasped hands and
+dazzling eyes. "But," she curbed herself, "it is--it would--oh, you
+mustn't THINK of it! I couldn't allow it! I--I should never forgive
+myself!"
+
+"In fact, you would mourn me always?"
+
+"Why yes! . . Y-es-always." What else could she say? But would his
+answer be that he dared not condemn her to lifelong torment?
+
+"Then," his answer was, "my joy in dying for you is made perfect."
+
+Her muscles relaxed. Her breath escaped between her teeth. "You are
+utterly resolved?" she asked. "Are you?"
+
+"Utterly."
+
+"Nothing I might say could change your purpose?"
+
+"Nothing."
+
+"No entreaty, howsoever piteous, could move you?"
+
+"None."
+
+Forthwith she urged, entreated, cajoled, commanded, with infinite
+prettiness of ingenuity and of eloquence. Never was such a cascade of
+dissuasion as hers. She only didn't say she could love him. She never
+hinted that. Indeed, throughout her pleading rang this recurrent
+motif: that he must live to take to himself as mate some good,
+serious, clever woman who would be a not unworthy mother of his
+children.
+
+She laid stress on his youth, his great position, his brilliant
+attainments, the much he had already achieved, the splendid
+possibilities of his future. Though of course she spoke in undertones,
+not to be overheard by the throng on the barge, it was almost as
+though his health were being floridly proposed at some public banquet
+--say, at a Tenants' Dinner. Insomuch that, when she ceased, the Duke
+half expected Jellings, his steward, to bob up uttering, with lifted
+hands, a stentorian "For-or," and all the company to take up the
+chant: "he's--a jolly good fellow." His brief reply, on those
+occasions, seemed always to indicate that, whatever else he might be,
+a jolly good fellow he was not. But by Zuleika's eulogy he really was
+touched. "Thank you--thank you," he gasped; and there were tears in
+his eyes. Dear the thought that she so revered him, so wished him not
+to die. But this was no more than a rush-light in the austere radiance
+of his joy in dying for her.
+
+And the time was come. Now for the sacrament of his immersion in
+infinity.
+
+"Good-bye," he said simply, and was about to swing himself on to the
+ledge of the balustrade. Zuleika, divining his intention, made way for
+him. Her bosom heaved quickly, quickly. All colour had left her face;
+but her eyes shone as never before.
+
+Already his foot was on the ledge, when hark! the sound of a distant
+gun. To Zuleika, with all the chords of her soul strung to the utmost
+tensity, the effect was as if she herself had been shot; and she
+clutched at the Duke's arm, like a frightened child. He laughed. "It
+was the signal for the race," he said, and laughed again, rather
+bitterly, at the crude and trivial interruption of high matters.
+
+"The race?" She laughed hysterically.
+
+"Yes. 'They're off'." He mingled his laughter with hers, gently
+seeking to disengage his arm. "And perhaps," he said, "I, clinging to
+the weeds of the river's bed, shall see dimly the boats and the oars
+pass over me, and shall be able to gurgle a cheer for Judas."
+
+"Don't!" she shuddered, with a woman's notion that a jest means
+levity. A tumult of thoughts surged in her, all confused. She only
+knew that he must not die--not yet! A moment ago, his death would have
+been beautiful. Not now! Her grip of his arm tightened. Only by
+breaking her wrist could he have freed himself. A moment ago, she had
+been in the seventh-heaven . . . Men were supposed to have died for
+love of her. It had never been proved. There had always been
+something--card-debts, ill-health, what not--to account for the
+tragedy. No man, to the best of her recollection, had ever hinted that
+he was going to die for her. Never, assuredly, had she seen the deed
+done. And then came he, the first man she had loved, going to die
+here, before her eyes, because she no longer loved him. But she knew
+now that he must not die--not yet!
+
+All around her was the hush that falls on Oxford when the signal for
+the race has sounded. In the distance could be heard faintly the noise
+of cheering--a little sing-song sound, drawing nearer.
+
+Ah, how could she have thought of letting him die so soon? She gazed
+into his face--the face she might never have seen again. Even now, but
+for that gun-shot, the waters would have closed over him, and his
+soul, maybe, have passed away. She had saved him, thank heaven! She
+had him still with her.
+
+Gently, vainly, he still sought to unclasp her fingers from his arm.
+
+"Not now!" she whispered. "Not yet!"
+
+And the noise of the cheering, and of the trumpeting and rattling, as
+it drew near, was an accompaniment to her joy in having saved her
+lover. She would keep him with her--for a while! Let all be done in
+order. She would savour the full sweetness of his sacrifice.
+Tomorrow--to-morrow, yes, let him have his heart's desire of death.
+Not now! Not yet!
+
+"To-morrow," she whispered, "to-morrow, if you will. Not yet!"
+
+The first boat came jerking past in mid-stream; and the towing-path,
+with its serried throng of runners, was like a live thing, keeping
+pace. As in a dream, Zuleika saw it. And the din was in her ears. No
+heroine of Wagner had ever a louder accompaniment than had ours to the
+surging soul within her bosom.
+
+And the Duke, tightly held by her, vibrated as to a powerful electric
+current. He let her cling to him, and her magnetism range through him.
+Ah, it was good not to have died! Fool, he had meant to drain off-
+hand, at one coarse draught, the delicate wine of death. He would let
+his lips caress the brim of the august goblet. He would dally with the
+aroma that was there.
+
+"So be it!" he cried into Zuleika's ear--cried loudly, for it seemed
+as though all the Wagnerian orchestras of Europe, with the Straussian
+ones thrown in, were here to clash in unison the full volume of right
+music for the glory of the reprieve.
+
+The fact was that the Judas boat had just bumped Univ., exactly
+opposite the Judas barge. The oarsmen in either boat sat humped,
+panting, some of them rocking and writhing, after their wholesome
+exercise. But there was not one of them whose eyes were not upcast at
+Zuleika. And the vocalisation and instrumentation of the dancers and
+stampers on the towing-path had by this time ceased to mean aught of
+joy in the victors or of comfort for the vanquished, and had resolved
+itself into a wild wordless hymn to the glory of Miss Dobson. Behind
+her and all around her on the roof of the barge, young Judasians were
+venting in like manner their hearts through their lungs. She paid no
+heed. It was as if she stood alone with her lover on some silent
+pinnacle of the world. It was as if she were a little girl with a
+brand-new and very expensive doll which had banished all the little
+other old toys from her mind.
+
+She simply could not, in her naive rapture, take her eyes off her
+companion. To the dancers and stampers of the towing-path, many of
+whom were now being ferried back across the river, and to the other
+youths on the roof of the barge, Zuleika's air of absorption must have
+seemed a little strange. For already the news that the Duke loved
+Zuleika, and that she loved him not, and would stoop to no man who
+loved her, had spread like wild-fire among the undergraduates. The two
+youths in whom the Duke had deigned to confide had not held their
+peace. And the effect that Zuleika had made as she came down to the
+river was intensified by the knowledge that not the great paragon
+himself did she deem worthy of her. The mere sight of her had captured
+young Oxford. The news of her supernal haughtiness had riveted the
+chains.
+
+"Come!" said the Duke at length, staring around him with the eyes of
+one awakened from a dream. "Come! I must take you back to Judas."
+
+"But you won't leave me there?" pleaded Zuleika. "You will stay to
+dinner? I am sure my grandfather would be delighted."
+
+"I am sure he would," said the Duke, as he piloted her down the steps
+of the barge. "But alas, I have to dine at the Junta to-night."
+
+"The Junta? What is that?"
+
+"A little dining-club. It meets every Tuesday."
+
+"But--you don't mean you are going to refuse me for that?"
+
+"To do so is misery. But I have no choice. I have asked a guest."
+
+"Then ask another: ask me!" Zuleika's notions of Oxford life were
+rather hazy. It was with difficulty that the Duke made her realise
+that he could not--not even if, as she suggested, she dressed herself
+up as a man--invite her to the Junta. She then fell back on the
+impossibility that he would not dine with her to-night, his last night
+in this world. She could not understand that admirable fidelity to
+social engagements which is one of the virtues implanted in the
+members of our aristocracy. Bohemian by training and by career, she
+construed the Duke's refusal as either a cruel slight to herself or an
+act of imbecility. The thought of being parted from her for one moment
+was torture to him; but "noblesse oblige," and it was quite impossible
+for him to break an engagement merely because a more charming one
+offered itself: he would as soon have cheated at cards.
+
+And so, as they went side by side up the avenue, in the mellow light
+of the westering sun, preceded in their course, and pursued, and
+surrounded, by the mob of hoarse infatuate youths, Zuleika's face was
+as that of a little girl sulking. Vainly the Duke reasoned with her.
+She could NOT see the point of view.
+
+With that sudden softening that comes to the face of an angry woman
+who has hit on a good argument, she turned to him and asked "How if I
+hadn't saved your life just now? Much you thought about your guest
+when you were going to dive and die!"
+
+"I did not forget him," answered the Duke, smiling at her casuistry.
+"Nor had I any scruple in disappointing him. Death cancels all
+engagements."
+
+And Zuleika, worsted, resumed her sulking. But presently, as they
+neared Judas, she relented. It was paltry to be cross with him who had
+resolved to die for her and was going to die so on the morrow. And
+after all, she would see him at the concert to-night. They would sit
+together. And all to-morrow they would be together, till the time came
+for parting. Hers was a naturally sunny disposition. And the evening
+was such a lovely one, all bathed in gold. She was ashamed of her
+ill-humour.
+
+"Forgive me," she said, touching his arm. "Forgive me for being
+horrid." And forgiven she promptly was. "And promise you will spend
+all to-morrow with me." And of course he promised.
+
+As they stood together on the steps of the Warden's front-door,
+exalted above the level of the flushed and swaying crowd that filled
+the whole length and breadth of Judas Street, she implored him not to
+be late for the concert.
+
+"I am never late," he smiled.
+
+"Ah, you're so beautifully brought up!"
+
+The door was opened.
+
+"And--oh, you're beautiful besides!" she whispered; and waved her hand
+to him as she vanished into the hall.
+
+
+VIII
+
+A few minutes before half-past seven, the Duke, arrayed for dinner,
+passed leisurely up the High. The arresting feature of his costume was
+a mulberry-coloured coat, with brass buttons. This, to any one versed
+in Oxford lore, betokened him a member of the Junta. It is awful to
+think that a casual stranger might have mistaken him for a footman. It
+does not do to think of such things.
+
+The tradesmen, at the doors of their shops, bowed low as he passed,
+rubbing their hands and smiling, hoping inwardly that they took no
+liberty in sharing the cool rosy air of the evening with his Grace.
+They noted that he wore in his shirt-front a black pearl and a pink.
+"Daring, but becoming," they opined.
+
+The rooms of the Junta were over a stationer's shop, next door but one
+to the Mitre. They were small rooms; but as the Junta had now, besides
+the Duke, only two members, and as no member might introduce more than
+one guest, there was ample space.
+
+The Duke had been elected in his second term. At that time there were
+four members; but these were all leaving Oxford at the end of the
+summer term, and there seemed to be in the ranks of the Bullingdon and
+the Loder no one quite eligible for the Junta, that holy of holies.
+Thus it was that the Duke inaugurated in solitude his second year of
+membership. From time to time, he proposed and seconded a few
+candidates, after "sounding" them as to whether they were willing to
+join. But always, when election evening--the last Tuesday of term--
+drew near, he began to have his doubts about these fellows. This one
+was "rowdy"; that one was over-dressed; another did not ride quite
+straight to hounds; in the pedigree of another a bar-sinister was more
+than suspected. Election evening was always a rather melancholy time.
+After dinner, when the two club servants had placed on the mahogany
+the time-worn Candidates' Book and the ballot-box, and had noiselessly
+withdrawn, the Duke, clearing his throat, read aloud to himself "Mr.
+So-and-So, of Such-and-Such College, proposed by the Duke of Dorset,
+seconded by the Duke of Dorset," and, in every case, when he drew out
+the drawer of the ballot-box, found it was a black-ball that he had
+dropped into the urn. Thus it was that at the end of the summer term
+the annual photographic "group" taken by Messrs. Hills and Saunders
+was a presentment of the Duke alone.
+
+In the course of his third year he had become less exclusive. Not
+because there seemed to be any one really worthy of the Junta; but
+because the Junta, having thriven since the eighteenth century, must
+not die. Suppose--one never knew--he were struck by lightning, the
+Junta would be no more. So, not without reluctance, but unanimously,
+he had elected The MacQuern, of Balliol, and Sir John Marraby, of
+Brasenose.
+
+To-night, as he, a doomed man, went up into the familiar rooms, he was
+wholly glad that he had thus relented. As yet, he was spared the
+tragic knowledge that it would make no difference.*
+
+   * The Junta has been reconstituted. But the apostolic line was
+     broken, the thread was snapped; the old magic is fled.
+
+
+The MacQuern and two other young men were already there.
+
+"Mr. President," said The MacQuern, "I present Mr. Trent-Garby, of
+Christ Church."
+
+"The Junta is honoured," said the Duke, bowing.
+
+Such was the ritual of the club.
+
+The other young man, because his host, Sir John Marraby, was not yet
+on the scene, had no locus standi, and, though a friend of The
+MacQuern, and well known to the Duke, had to be ignored.
+
+A moment later, Sir John arrived. "Mr. President," he said, "I present
+Lord Sayes, of Magdalen."
+
+"The Junta is honoured," said the Duke, bowing.
+
+Both hosts and both guests, having been prominent in the throng that
+vociferated around Zuleika an hour earlier, were slightly abashed in
+the Duke's presence. He, however, had not noticed any one in
+particular, and, even if he had, that fine tradition of the club--"A
+member of the Junta can do no wrong; a guest of the Junta cannot
+err"--would have prevented him from showing his displeasure.
+
+A Herculean figure filled the doorway.
+
+"The Junta is honoured," said the Duke, bowing to his guest.
+
+"Duke," said the newcomer quietly, "the honour is as much mine as that
+of the interesting and ancient institution which I am this night
+privileged to inspect."
+
+Turning to Sir John and The MacQuern, the Duke said "I present Mr.
+Abimelech V. Oover, of Trinity."
+
+"The Junta," they replied, "is honoured."
+
+"Gentlemen," said the Rhodes Scholar, "your good courtesy is just such
+as I would have anticipated from members of the ancient Junta. Like
+most of my countrymen, I am a man of few words. We are habituated out
+there to act rather than talk. Judged from the view-point of your
+beautiful old civilisation, I am aware my curtness must seem crude.
+But, gentlemen, believe me, right here--"
+
+"Dinner is served, your Grace."
+
+Thus interrupted, Mr. Oover, with the resourcefulness of a practised
+orator, brought his thanks to a quick but not abrupt conclusion. The
+little company passed into the front room.
+
+Through the window, from the High, fading daylight mingled with the
+candle-light. The mulberry coats of the hosts, interspersed by the
+black ones of the guests, made a fine pattern around the oval table
+a-gleam with the many curious pieces of gold and silver plate that had
+accrued to the Junta in course of years.
+
+The President showed much deference to his guest. He seemed to listen
+with close attention to the humorous anecdote with which, in the
+American fashion, Mr. Oover inaugurated dinner.
+
+To all Rhodes Scholars, indeed, his courtesy was invariable. He went
+out of his way to cultivate them. And this he did more as a favour to
+Lord Milner than of his own caprice. He found these Scholars, good
+fellows though they were, rather oppressive. They had not--how could
+they have?--the undergraduate's virtue of taking Oxford as a matter of
+course. The Germans loved it too little, the Colonials too much. The
+Americans were, to a sensitive observer, the most troublesome--as
+being the most troubled--of the whole lot. The Duke was not one of
+those Englishmen who fling, or care to hear flung, cheap sneers at
+America. Whenever any one in his presence said that America was not
+large in area, he would firmly maintain that it was. He held, too, in
+his enlightened way, that Americans have a perfect right to exist. But
+he did often find himself wishing Mr. Rhodes had not enabled them to
+exercise that right in Oxford. They were so awfully afraid of having
+their strenuous native characters undermined by their delight in the
+place. They held that the future was theirs, a glorious asset, far
+more glorious than the past. But a theory, as the Duke saw, is one
+thing, an emotion another. It is so much easier to covet what one
+hasn't than to revel in what one has. Also, it is so much easier to be
+enthusiastic about what exists than about what doesn't. The future
+doesn't exist. The past does. For, whereas all men can learn, the gift
+of prophecy has died out. A man cannot work up in his breast any real
+excitement about what possibly won't happen. He cannot very well help
+being sentimentally interested in what he knows has happened. On the
+other hand, he owes a duty to his country. And, if his country be
+America, he ought to try to feel a vivid respect for the future, and a
+cold contempt for the past. Also, if he be selected by his country as
+a specimen of the best moral, physical, and intellectual type that she
+can produce for the astounding of the effete foreigner, and
+incidentally for the purpose of raising that foreigner's tone, he
+must--mustn't he?--do his best to astound, to exalt. But then comes in
+this difficulty. Young men don't like to astound and exalt their
+fellows. And Americans, individually, are of all people the most
+anxious to please. That they talk overmuch is often taken as a sign of
+self-satisfaction. It is merely a mannerism. Rhetoric is a thing
+inbred in them. They are quite unconscious of it. It is as natural to
+them as breathing. And, while they talk on, they really do believe
+that they are a quick, businesslike people, by whom things are "put
+through" with an almost brutal abruptness. This notion of theirs is
+rather confusing to the patient English auditor.
+
+Altogether, the American Rhodes Scholars, with their splendid native
+gift of oratory, and their modest desire to please, and their not less
+evident feeling that they ought merely to edify, and their constant
+delight in all that of Oxford their English brethren don't notice, and
+their constant fear that they are being corrupted, are a noble, rather
+than a comfortable, element in the social life of the University. So,
+at least, they seemed to the Duke.
+
+And to-night, but that he had invited Oover to dine with him, he could
+have been dining with Zuleika. And this was his last dinner on earth.
+Such thoughts made him the less able to take pleasure in his guest.
+Perfect, however, the amenity of his manner.
+
+This was the more commendable because Oover's "aura" was even more
+disturbing than that of the average Rhodes Scholar. To-night, besides
+the usual conflicts in this young man's bosom, raged a special one
+between his desire to behave well and his jealousy of the man who had
+to-day been Miss Dobson's escort. In theory he denied the Duke's right
+to that honour. In sentiment he admitted it. Another conflict, you
+see. And another. He longed to orate about the woman who had his
+heart; yet she was the one topic that must be shirked.
+
+The MacQuern and Mr. Trent-Garby, Sir John Marraby and Lord Sayes,
+they too--though they were no orators--would fain have unpacked
+their hearts in words about Zuleika. They spoke of this and that,
+automatically, none listening to another--each man listening, wide-
+eyed, to his own heart's solo on the Zuleika theme, and drinking
+rather more champagne than was good for him. Maybe, these youths sowed
+in themselves, on this night, the seeds of lifelong intemperance. We
+cannot tell. They did not live long enough for us to know.
+
+While the six dined, a seventh, invisible to them, leaned moodily
+against the mantel-piece, watching them. He was not of their time. His
+long brown hair was knotted in a black riband behind. He wore a pale
+brocaded coat and lace ruffles, silken stockings, a sword. Privy to
+their doom, he watched them. He was loth that his Junta must die. Yes,
+his. Could the diners have seen him, they would have known him by his
+resemblance to the mezzotint portrait that hung on the wall above him.
+They would have risen to their feet in presence of Humphrey Greddon,
+founder and first president of the club.
+
+His face was not so oval, nor were his eyes so big, nor his lips so
+full, nor his hands so delicate, as they appeared in the mezzotint.
+Yet (bating the conventions of eighteenth-century portraiture) the
+likeness was a good one. Humphrey Greddon was not less well-knit and
+graceful than the painter had made him, and, hard though the lines of
+the face were, there was about him a certain air of high romance that
+could not be explained away by the fact that he was of a period not
+our own. You could understand the great love that Nellie O'Mora had
+borne him.
+
+Under the mezzotint hung Hoppner's miniature of that lovely and ill-
+starred girl, with her soft dark eyes, and her curls all astray from
+beneath her little blue turban. And the Duke was telling Mr. Oover her
+story--how she had left her home for Humphrey Greddon when she was but
+sixteen, and he an undergraduate at Christ Church; and had lived for
+him in a cottage at Littlemore, whither he would ride, most days, to
+be with her; and how he tired of her, broke his oath that he would
+marry her, thereby broke her heart; and how she drowned herself in a
+mill-pond; and how Greddon was killed in Venice, two years later,
+duelling on the Riva Schiavoni with a Senator whose daughter he had
+seduced.
+
+And he, Greddon, was not listening very attentively to the tale. He
+had heard it told so often in this room, and he did not understand the
+sentiments of the modern world. Nellie had been a monstrous pretty
+creature. He had adored her, and had done with her. It was right that
+she should always be toasted after dinner by the Junta, as in the days
+when first he loved her--"Here's to Nellie O'Mora, the fairest witch
+that ever was or will be!" He would have resented the omission of that
+toast. But he was sick of the pitying, melting looks that were always
+cast towards her miniature. Nellie had been beautiful, but, by God!
+she was always a dunce and a simpleton. How could he have spent his
+life with her? She was a fool, by God! not to marry that fool Trailby,
+of Merton, whom he took to see her.
+
+Mr. Oover's moral tone, and his sense of chivalry, were of the
+American kind: far higher than ours, even, and far better expressed.
+Whereas the English guests of the Junta, when they heard the tale of
+Nellie O'Mora, would merely murmur "Poor girl!" or "What a shame!" Mr.
+Oover said in a tone of quiet authority that compelled Greddon's ear
+"Duke, I hope I am not incognisant of the laws that govern the
+relations of guest and host. But, Duke, I aver deliberately that the
+founder of this fine old club; at which you are so splendidly
+entertaining me to-night, was an unmitigated scoundrel. I say he was
+not a white man."
+
+At the word "scoundrel," Humphrey Greddon had sprung forward, drawing
+his sword, and loudly, in a voice audible to himself alone, challenged
+the American to make good his words. Then, as this gentleman took no
+notice, with one clean straight thrust Greddon ran him through the
+heart, shouting "Die, you damned psalm-singer and traducer! And so die
+all rebels against King George!"* Withdrawing the blade, he wiped it
+daintily on his cambric handkerchief. There was no blood. Mr. Oover,
+with unpunctured shirt-front, was repeating "I say he was not a white
+man." And Greddon remembered himself--remembered he was only a ghost,
+impalpable, impotent, of no account. "But I shall meet you in Hell
+to-morrow," he hissed in Oover's face. And there he was wrong. It is
+quite certain that Oover went to Heaven.
+
+   * As Edward VII. was at this time on the throne, it must have been
+     to George III. that Mr. Greddon was referring.
+
+
+Unable to avenge himself, Greddon had looked to the Duke to act for
+him. When he saw that this young man did but smile at Oover and make a
+vague deprecatory gesture, he again, in his wrath, forgot his
+disabilities. Drawing himself to his full height, he took with great
+deliberation a pinch of snuff, and, bowing low to the Duke, said "I am
+vastly obleeged to your Grace for the fine high Courage you have
+exhibited in the behalf of your most Admiring, most Humble Servant."
+Then, having brushed away a speck of snuff from his jabot, he turned
+on his heel; and only in the doorway, where one of the club servants,
+carrying a decanter in each hand, walked straight through him, did he
+realise that he had not spoilt the Duke's evening. With a volley of
+the most appalling eighteenth-century oaths, he passed back into the
+nether world.
+
+To the Duke, Nellie O'Mora had never been a very vital figure. He had
+often repeated the legend of her. But, having never known what love
+was, he could not imagine her rapture or her anguish. Himself the
+quarry of all Mayfair's wise virgins, he had always--so far as he
+thought of the matter at all--suspected that Nellie's death was due to
+thwarted ambition. But to-night, while he told Oover about her, he
+could see into her soul. Nor did he pity her. She had loved. She had
+known the one thing worth living for--and dying for. She, as she went
+down to the mill-pond, had felt just that ecstasy of self-sacrifice
+which he himself had felt to-day and would feel to-morrow. And for a
+while, too--for a full year--she had known the joy of being loved, had
+been for Greddon "the fairest witch that ever was or will be." He
+could not agree with Oover's long disquisition on her sufferings. And,
+glancing at her well-remembered miniature, he wondered just what it
+was in her that had captivated Greddon. He was in that blest state
+when a man cannot believe the earth has been trodden by any really
+beautiful or desirable lady save the lady of his own heart.
+
+The moment had come for the removal of the table-cloth. The mahogany
+of the Junta was laid bare--a clear dark lake, anon to reflect in its
+still and ruddy depths the candelabras and the fruit-cradles, the
+slender glasses and the stout old decanters, the forfeit-box and the
+snuff-box, and other paraphernalia of the dignity of dessert. Lucidly,
+and unwaveringly inverted in the depths these good things stood; and,
+so soon as the wine had made its circuit, the Duke rose and with
+uplifted glass proposed the first of the two toasts traditional to the
+Junta. "Gentlemen, I give you Church and State."
+
+The toast having been honoured by all--and by none with a richer
+reverence than by Oover, despite his passionate mental reservation in
+favour of Pittsburg-Anabaptism and the Republican Ideal--the snuff-box
+was handed round, and fruit was eaten.
+
+Presently, when the wine had gone round again, the Duke rose and with
+uplifted glass said "Gentlemen, I give you--" and there halted.
+Silent, frowning, flushed, he stood for a few moments, and then, with
+a deliberate gesture, tilted his glass and let fall the wine to the
+carpet. "No," he said, looking round the table, "I cannot give you
+Nellie O'Mora."
+
+"Why not?" gasped Sir John Marraby.
+
+"You have a right to ask that," said the Duke, still standing. "I can
+only say that my conscience is stronger than my sense of what is due
+to the customs of the club. Nellie O'Mora," he said, passing his hand
+over his brow, "may have been in her day the fairest witch that ever
+was--so fair that our founder had good reason to suppose her the
+fairest witch that ever would be. But his prediction was a false one.
+So at least it seems to me. Of course I cannot both hold this view and
+remain President of this club. MacQuern--Marraby--which of you is
+Vice-President?"
+
+"He is," said Marraby.
+
+"Then, MacQuern, you are hereby President, vice myself resigned. Take
+the chair and propose the toast."
+
+"I would rather not," said The MacQuern after a pause.
+
+"Then, Marraby, YOU must."
+
+"Not I!" said Marraby.
+
+"Why is this?" asked the Duke, looking from one to the other.
+
+The MacQuern, with Scotch caution, was silent. But the impulsive
+Marraby--Madcap Marraby, as they called him in B.N.C.--said "It's
+because I won't lie!" and, leaping up, raised his glass aloft and
+cried "I give you Zuleika Dobson, the fairest witch that ever was or
+will be!"
+
+Mr. Oover, Lord Sayes, Mr. Trent-Garby, sprang to their feet; The
+MacQuern rose to his. "Zuleika Dobson!" they cried, and drained their
+glasses.
+
+Then, when they had resumed their seats, came an awkward pause. The
+Duke, still erect beside the chair he had vacated, looked very grave
+and pale. Marraby had taken an outrageous liberty. But "a member of
+the Junta can do no wrong," and the liberty could not be resented. The
+Duke felt that the blame was on himself, who had elected Marraby to
+the club.
+
+Mr. Oover, too, looked grave. All the antiquarian in him deplored the
+sudden rupture of a fine old Oxford tradition. All the chivalrous
+American in him resented the slight on that fair victim of the feudal
+system, Miss O'Mora. And, at the same time, all the Abimelech V. in
+him rejoiced at having honoured by word and act the one woman in the
+world.
+
+Gazing around at the flushed faces and heaving shirt-fronts of the
+diners, the Duke forgot Marraby's misdemeanour. What mattered far more
+to him was that here were five young men deeply under the spell of
+Zuleika. They must be saved, if possible. He knew how strong his
+influence was in the University. He knew also how strong was
+Zuleika's. He had not much hope of the issue. But his new-born sense
+of duty to his fellows spurred him on. "Is there," he asked with a
+bitter smile, "any one of you who doesn't with his whole heart love
+Miss Dobson?"
+
+Nobody held up a hand.
+
+"As I feared," said the Duke, knowing not that if a hand had been held
+up he would have taken it as a personal insult. No man really in love
+can forgive another for not sharing his ardour. His jealousy for
+himself when his beloved prefers another man is hardly a stronger
+passion than his jealousy for her when she is not preferred to all
+other women.
+
+"You know her only by sight--by repute?" asked the Duke. They
+signified that this was so. "I wish you would introduce me to her,"
+said Marraby.
+
+"You are all coming to the Judas concert tonight?" the Duke asked,
+ignoring Marraby. "You have all secured tickets?" They nodded. "To
+hear me play, or to see Miss Dobson?" There was a murmur of "Both--
+both." "And you would all of you, like Marraby, wish to be presented
+to this lady?" Their eyes dilated. "That way happiness lies, think
+you?"
+
+"Oh, happiness be hanged!" said Marraby.
+
+To the Duke this seemed a profoundly sane remark--an epitome of his
+own sentiments. But what was right for himself was not right for all.
+He believed in convention as the best way for average mankind. And so,
+slowly, calmly, he told to his fellow-diners just what he had told a
+few hours earlier to those two young men in Salt Cellar. Not knowing
+that his words had already been spread throughout Oxford, he was
+rather surprised that they seemed to make no sensation. Quite flat,
+too, fell his appeal that the syren be shunned by all.
+
+Mr. Oover, during his year of residence, had been sorely tried by the
+quaint old English custom of not making public speeches after private
+dinners. It was with a deep sigh of satisfaction that he now rose to
+his feet.
+
+"Duke," he said in a low voice, which yet penetrated to every corner
+of the room, "I guess I am voicing these gentlemen when I say that
+your words show up your good heart, all the time. Your mentality, too,
+is bully, as we all predicate. One may say without exaggeration that
+your scholarly and social attainments are a by-word throughout the
+solar system, and be-yond. We rightly venerate you as our boss. Sir,
+we worship the ground you walk on. But we owe a duty to our own free
+and independent manhood. Sir, we worship the ground Miss Z. Dobson
+treads on. We have pegged out a claim right there. And from that
+location we aren't to be budged--not for bob-nuts. We asseverate we
+squat--where--we--squat, come--what--will. You say we have no chance
+to win Miss Z. Dobson. That--we--know. We aren't worthy. We lie prone.
+Let her walk over us. You say her heart is cold. We don't pro-fess we
+can take the chill off. But, Sir, we can't be diverted out of loving
+her--not even by you, Sir. No, Sir! We love her, and--shall, and--
+will, Sir, with--our--latest breath."
+
+This peroration evoked loud applause. "I love her, and shall, and
+will," shouted each man. And again they honoured in wine her image.
+Sir John Marraby uttered a cry familiar in the hunting-field. The
+MacQuern contributed a few bars of a sentimental ballad in the dialect
+of his country. "Hurrah, hurrah!" shouted Mr. Trent-Garby. Lord Sayes
+hummed the latest waltz, waving his arms to its rhythm, while the wine
+he had just spilt on his shirt-front trickled unheeded to his
+waistcoat. Mr. Oover gave the Yale cheer.
+
+The genial din was wafted down through the open window to the passers-
+by. The wine-merchant across the way heard it, and smiled pensively.
+"Youth, youth!" he murmured.
+
+The genial din grew louder.
+
+At any other time, the Duke would have been jarred by the disgrace to
+the Junta. But now, as he stood with bent head, covering his face with
+his hands, he thought only of the need to rid these young men, here
+and now, of the influence that had befallen them. To-morrow his tragic
+example might be too late, the mischief have sunk too deep, the agony
+be life-long. His good breeding forbade him to cast over a dinner-
+table the shadow of his death. His conscience insisted that he must.
+He uncovered his face, and held up one hand for silence.
+
+"We are all of us," he said, "old enough to remember vividly the
+demonstrations made in the streets of London when war was declared
+between us and the Transvaal Republic. You, Mr. Oover, doubtless heard
+in America the echoes of those ebullitions. The general idea was that
+the war was going to be a very brief and simple affair--what was
+called 'a walk-over.' To me, though I was only a small boy, it seemed
+that all this delirious pride in the prospect of crushing a trumpery
+foe argued a defect in our sense of proportion. Still, I was able to
+understand the demonstrators' point of view. To 'the giddy vulgar' any
+sort of victory is pleasant. But defeat? If, when that war was
+declared, every one had been sure that not only should we fail to
+conquer the Transvaal, but that IT would conquer US--that not only
+would it make good its freedom and independence, but that we should
+forfeit ours--how would the cits have felt then? Would they not have
+pulled long faces, spoken in whispers, wept? You must forgive me for
+saying that the noise you have just made around this table was very
+like to the noise made on the verge of the Boer War. And your
+procedure seems to me as unaccountable as would have seemed the
+antics of those mobs if England had been plainly doomed to disaster
+and to vassalage. My guest here to-night, in the course of his very
+eloquent and racy speech, spoke of the need that he and you should
+preserve your 'free and independent manhood.' That seemed to me an
+irreproachable ideal. But I confess I was somewhat taken aback by my
+friend's scheme for realising it. He declared his intention of lying
+prone and letting Miss Dobson 'walk over' him; and he advised you to
+follow his example; and to this counsel you gave evident approval.
+Gentlemen, suppose that on the verge of the aforesaid war, some orator
+had said to the British people 'It is going to be a walk-over for our
+enemy in the field. Mr. Kruger holds us in the hollow of his hand.
+In subjection to him we shall find our long-lost freedom and
+independence'--what would have been Britannia's answer? What, on
+reflection, is yours to Mr. Oover? What are Mr. Oover's own second
+thoughts?" The Duke paused, with a smile to his guest.
+
+"Go right ahead, Duke," said Mr. Oover. "I'll re-ply when my turn
+comes."
+
+"And not utterly demolish me, I hope," said the Duke. His was the
+Oxford manner. "Gentlemen," he continued, "is it possible that
+Britannia would have thrown her helmet in the air, shrieking 'Slavery
+for ever'? You, gentlemen, seem to think slavery a pleasant and an
+honourable state. You have less experience of it than I. I have been
+enslaved to Miss Dobson since yesterday evening; you, only since this
+afternoon; I, at close quarters; you, at a respectful distance. Your
+fetters have not galled you yet. MY wrists, MY ankles, are excoriated.
+The iron has entered into my soul. I droop. I stumble. Blood flows
+from me. I quiver and curse. I writhe. The sun mocks me. The moon
+titters in my face. I can stand it no longer. I will no more of it.
+Tomorrow I die."
+
+The flushed faces of the diners grew gradually pale. Their eyes lost
+lustre. Their tongues clove to the roofs of their mouths.
+
+At length, almost inaudibly, The MacQuern asked "Do you mean you are
+going to commit suicide?"
+
+"Yes," said the Duke, "if you choose to put it in that way. Yes. And
+it is only by a chance that I did not commit suicide this afternoon."
+
+"You--don't--say," gasped Mr. Oover.
+
+"I do indeed," said the Duke. "And I ask you all to weigh well my
+message."
+
+"But--but does Miss Dobson know?" asked Sir John.
+
+"Oh yes," was the reply. "Indeed, it was she who persuaded me not to
+die till to-morrow."
+
+"But--but," faltered Lord Sayes, "I saw her saying good-bye to you in
+Judas Street. And--and she looked quite--as if nothing had happened."
+
+"Nothing HAD happened," said the Duke. "And she was very much pleased
+to have me still with her. But she isn't so cruel as to hinder me from
+dying for her to-morrow. I don't think she exactly fixed the hour. It
+shall be just after the Eights have been rowed. An earlier death would
+mark in me a lack of courtesy to that contest . . . It seems strange
+to you that I should do this thing? Take warning by me. Muster all
+your will-power, and forget Miss Dobson. Tear up your tickets for the
+concert. Stay here and play cards. Play high. Or rather, go back to
+your various Colleges, and speed the news I have told you. Put all
+Oxford on its guard against this woman who can love no lover. Let all
+Oxford know that I, Dorset, who had so much reason to love life--I,
+the nonpareil--am going to die for the love I bear this woman. And let
+no man think I go unwilling. I am no lamb led to the slaughter. I am
+priest as well as victim. I offer myself up with a pious joy. But
+enough of this cold Hebraism! It is ill-attuned to my soul's mood.
+Self-sacrifice--bah! Regard me as a voluptuary. I am that. All my
+baffled ardour speeds me to the bosom of Death. She is gentle and
+wanton. She knows I could never have loved her for her own sake. She
+has no illusions about me. She knows well I come to her because not
+otherwise may I quench my passion."
+
+There was a long silence. The Duke, looking around at the bent heads
+and drawn mouths of his auditors, saw that his words had gone home. It
+was Marraby who revealed how powerfully home they had gone.
+
+"Dorset," he said huskily, "I shall die too."
+
+The Duke flung up his hands, staring wildly.
+
+"I stand in with that," said Mr. Oover.
+
+"So do I!" said Lord Sayes. "And I!" said Mr. Trent-Garby; "And I!"
+The MacQuern.
+
+The Duke found voice. "Are you mad?" he asked, clutching at his
+throat. "Are you all mad?"
+
+"No, Duke," said Mr. Oover. "Or, if we are, you have no right to be at
+large. You have shown us the way. We--take it."
+
+"Just so," said The MacQuern, stolidly.
+
+"Listen, you fools," cried the Duke. But through the open window came
+the vibrant stroke of some clock. He wheeled round, plucked out his
+watch--nine!--the concert!--his promise not to be late!--Zuleika!
+
+All other thoughts vanished. In an instant he dodged beneath the sash
+of the window. From the flower-box he sprang to the road beneath. (The
+facade of the house is called, to this day, Dorset's Leap.) Alighting
+with the legerity of a cat, he swerved leftward in the recoil, and was
+off, like a streak of mulberry-coloured lightning, down the High.
+
+The other men had rushed to the window, fearing the worst. "No," cried
+Oover. "That's all right. Saves time!" and he raised himself on to the
+window-box. It splintered under his weight. He leapt heavily but well,
+followed by some uprooted geraniums. Squaring his shoulders, he threw
+back his head, and doubled down the slope.
+
+There was a violent jostle between the remaining men. The MacQuern
+cannily got out of it, and rushed downstairs. He emerged at the front-
+door just after Marraby touched ground. The Baronet's left ankle had
+twisted under him. His face was drawn with pain as he hopped down the
+High on his right foot, fingering his ticket for the concert. Next
+leapt Lord Sayes. And last of all leapt Mr. Trent-Garby, who, catching
+his foot in the ruined flower-box, fell headlong, and was, I regret to
+say, killed. Lord Sayes passed Sir John in a few paces. The MacQuern
+overtook Mr. Oover at St. Mary's and outstripped him in Radcliffe
+Square. The Duke came in an easy first.
+
+Youth, youth!
+
+
+IX
+
+Across the Front Quadrangle, heedless of the great crowd to right and
+left, Dorset rushed. Up the stone steps to the Hall he bounded, and
+only on the Hall's threshold was he brought to a pause. The doorway
+was blocked by the backs of youths who had by hook and crook secured
+standing-room. The whole scene was surprisingly unlike that of the
+average College concert.
+
+"Let me pass," said the Duke, rather breathlessly. "Thank you. Make
+way please. Thanks." And with quick-pulsing heart he made his way down
+the aisle to the front row. There awaited him a surprise that was like
+a douche of cold water full in his face. Zuleika was not there! It had
+never occurred to him that she herself might not be punctual.
+
+The Warden was there, reading his programme with an air of great
+solemnity. "Where," asked the Duke, "is your grand-daughter?" His tone
+was as of a man saying "If she is dead, don't break it gently to me."
+
+"My grand-daughter?" said the Warden. "Ah, Duke, good evening."
+
+"She's not ill?"
+
+"Oh no, I think not. She said something about changing the dress she
+wore at dinner. She will come." And the Warden thanked his young
+friend for the great kindness he had shown to Zuleika. He hoped the
+Duke had not let her worry him with her artless prattle. "She seems to
+be a good, amiable girl," he added, in his detached way.
+
+Sitting beside him, the Duke looked curiously at the venerable
+profile, as at a mummy's. To think that this had once been a man! To
+think that his blood flowed in the veins of Zuleika! Hitherto the Duke
+had seen nothing grotesque in him--had regarded him always as a
+dignified specimen of priest and scholar. Such a life as the Warden's,
+year following year in ornamental seclusion from the follies and
+fusses of the world, had to the Duke seemed rather admirable and
+enviable. Often he himself had (for a minute or so) meditated taking a
+fellowship at All Souls and spending here in Oxford the greater part
+of his life. He had never been young, and it never had occurred to him
+that the Warden had been young once. To-night he saw the old man in a
+new light--saw that he was mad. Here was a man who--for had he not
+married and begotten a child?--must have known, in some degree, the
+emotion of love. How, after that, could he have gone on thus, year by
+year, rusting among his books, asking no favour of life, waiting for
+death without a sign of impatience? Why had he not killed himself long
+ago? Why cumbered he the earth?
+
+On the dais an undergraduate was singing a song entitled "She Loves
+Not Me." Such plaints are apt to leave us unharrowed. Across the
+footlights of an opera-house, the despair of some Italian tenor in red
+tights and a yellow wig may be convincing enough. Not so, at a
+concert, the despair of a shy British amateur in evening dress. The
+undergraduate on the dais, fumbling with his sheet of music while he
+predicted that only when he were "laid within the church-yard cold and
+grey" would his lady begin to pity him, seemed to the Duke rather
+ridiculous; but not half so ridiculous as the Warden. This fictitious
+love-affair was less nugatory than the actual humdrum for which Dr.
+Dobson had sold his soul to the devil. Also, little as one might
+suspect it, the warbler was perhaps expressing a genuine sentiment.
+Zuleika herself, belike, was in his thoughts.
+
+As he began the second stanza, predicting that when his lady died too
+the angels of heaven would bear her straight to him, the audience
+heard a loud murmur, or subdued roar, outside the Hall. And after a
+few bars the warbler suddenly ceased, staring straight in front of him
+as though he saw a vision. Automatically, all heads veered in the
+direction of his gaze. From the entrance, slowly along the aisle, came
+Zuleika, brilliant in black.
+
+To the Duke, who had rapturously risen, she nodded and smiled as she
+swerved down on the chair beside him. She looked to him somehow
+different. He had quite forgiven her for being late: her mere presence
+was a perfect excuse. And the very change in her, though he could not
+define it, was somehow pleasing to him. He was about to question her,
+but she shook her head and held up to her lips a black-gloved
+forefinger, enjoining silence for the singer, who, with dogged British
+pluck, had harked back to the beginning of the second stanza. When his
+task was done and he shuffled down from the dais, he received a great
+ovation. Zuleika, in the way peculiar to persons who are in the habit
+of appearing before the public, held her hands well above the level of
+her brow, and clapped them with a vigour demonstrative not less of her
+presence than of her delight.
+
+"And now," she asked, turning to the Duke, "do you see? do you see?"
+
+"Something, yes. But what?"
+
+"Isn't it plain?" Lightly she touched the lobe of her left ear.
+"Aren't you flattered?"
+
+He knew now what made the difference. It was that her little face was
+flanked by two black pearls.
+
+"Think," said she, "how deeply I must have been brooding over you
+since we parted!"
+
+"Is this really," he asked, pointing to the left ear-ring, "the pearl
+you wore to-day?"
+
+"Yes. Isn't it strange? A man ought to be pleased when a woman goes
+quite unconsciously into mourning for him--goes just because she
+really does mourn him."
+
+"I am more than pleased. I am touched. When did the change come?"
+
+"I don't know. I only noticed it after dinner, when I saw myself in
+the mirror. All through dinner I had been thinking of you and of--
+well, of to-morrow. And this dear sensitive pink pearl had again
+expressed my soul. And there was I, in a yellow gown with green
+embroideries, gay as a jacamar, jarring hideously on myself. I covered
+my eyes and rushed upstairs, rang the bell and tore my things off. My
+maid was very cross."
+
+Cross! The Duke was shot through with envy of one who was in a
+position to be unkind to Zuleika. "Happy maid!" he murmured. Zuleika
+replied that he was stealing her thunder: hadn't she envied the girl
+at his lodgings? "But I," she said, "wanted only to serve you in
+meekness. The idea of ever being pert to you didn't enter into my
+head. You show a side of your character as unpleasing as it was
+unforeseen."
+
+"Perhaps then," said the Duke, "it is as well that I am going to die."
+She acknowledged his rebuke with a pretty gesture of penitence. "You
+may have been faultless in love," he added; "but you would not have
+laid down your life for me."
+
+"Oh," she answered, "wouldn't I though? You don't know me. That is
+just the sort of thing I should have loved to do. I am much more
+romantic than you are, really. I wonder," she said, glancing at his
+breast, "if YOUR pink pearl would have turned black? And I wonder if
+YOU would have taken the trouble to change that extraordinary coat you
+are wearing?"
+
+In sooth, no costume could have been more beautifully Cimmerian than
+Zuleika's. And yet, thought the Duke, watching her as the concert
+proceeded, the effect of her was not lugubrious. Her darkness shone.
+The black satin gown she wore was a stream of shifting high-lights.
+Big black diamonds were around her throat and wrists, and tiny black
+diamonds starred the fan she wielded. In her hair gleamed a great
+raven's wing. And brighter, brighter than all these were her eyes.
+Assuredly no, there was nothing morbid about her. Would one even
+(wondered the Duke, for a disloyal instant) go so far as to say she
+was heartless? Ah no, she was merely strong. She was one who could
+tread the tragic plane without stumbling, and be resilient in the
+valley of the shadow. What she had just said was no more than the
+truth: she would have loved to die for him, had he not forfeited her
+heart. She would have asked no tears. That she had none to shed for
+him now, that she did but share his exhilaration, was the measure of
+her worthiness to have the homage of his self-slaughter.
+
+"By the way," she whispered, "I want to ask one little favour of you.
+Will you, please, at the last moment to-morrow, call out my name in a
+loud voice, so that every one around can hear?"
+
+"Of course I will."
+
+"So that no one shall ever be able to say it wasn't for me that you
+died, you know."
+
+"May I use simply your Christian name?"
+
+"Yes, I really don't see why you shouldn't--at such a moment."
+
+"Thank you." His face glowed.
+
+Thus did they commune, these two, radiant without and within. And
+behind them, throughout the Hall, the undergraduates craned their
+necks for a glimpse. The Duke's piano solo, which was the last item in
+the first half of the programme, was eagerly awaited. Already,
+whispered first from the lips of Oover and the others who had come on
+from the Junta, the news of his resolve had gone from ear to ear among
+the men. He, for his part, had forgotten the scene at the Junta, the
+baleful effect of his example. For him the Hall was a cave of solitude
+--no one there but Zuleika and himself. Yet almost, like the late Mr.
+John Bright, he heard in the air the beating of the wings of the
+Angel of Death. Not awful wings; little wings that sprouted from the
+shoulders of a rosy and blindfold child. Love and Death--for him they
+were exquisitely one. And it seemed to him, when his turn came to
+play, that he floated, rather than walked, to the dais.
+
+He had not considered what he would play tonight. Nor, maybe, was he
+conscious now of choosing. His fingers caressed the keyboard vaguely;
+and anon this ivory had voice and language; and for its master, and
+for some of his hearers, arose a vision. And it was as though in
+delicate procession, very slowly, listless with weeping, certain
+figures passed by, hooded, and drooping forasmuch as by the loss of
+him whom they were following to his grave their own hold on life had
+been loosened. He had been so beautiful and young. Lo, he was but a
+burden to be carried hence, dust to be hidden out of sight. Very
+slowly, very wretchedly they went by. But, as they went, another
+feeling, faint at first, an all but imperceptible current, seemed to
+flow through the procession; and now one, now another of the mourners
+would look wanly up, with cast-back hood, as though listening; and
+anon all were listening on their way, first in wonder, then in
+rapture; for the soul of their friend was singing to them: they heard
+his voice, but clearer and more blithe than they had ever known it--a
+voice etherealised by a triumph of joy that was not yet for them to
+share. But presently the voice receded, its echoes dying away into the
+sphere whence it came. It ceased; and the mourners were left alone
+again with their sorrow, and passed on all unsolaced, and drooping,
+weeping.
+
+Soon after the Duke had begun to play, an invisible figure came and
+stood by and listened; a frail man, dressed in the fashion of 1840;
+the shade of none other than Frederic Chopin. Behind whom, a moment
+later, came a woman of somewhat masculine aspect and dominant
+demeanour, mounting guard over him, and, as it were, ready to catch
+him if he fell. He bowed his head lower and lower, he looked up with
+an ecstasy more and more intense, according to the procedure of his
+Marche Funebre. And among the audience, too, there was a bowing and
+uplifting of heads, just as among the figures of the mourners evoked.
+Yet the head of the player himself was all the while erect, and his
+face glad and serene. Nobly sensitive as was his playing of the
+mournful passages, he smiled brilliantly through them.
+
+And Zuleika returned his gaze with a smile not less gay. She was not
+sure what he was playing. But she assumed that it was for her, and
+that the music had some reference to his impending death. She was one
+of the people who say "I don't know anything about music really, but I
+know what I like." And she liked this; and she beat time to it with
+her fan. She thought her Duke looked very handsome. She was proud of
+him. Strange that this time yesterday she had been wildly in love with
+him! Strange, too, that this time to-morrow he would be dead! She was
+immensely glad she had saved him this afternoon. To-morrow! There came
+back to her what he had told her about the omen at Tankerton, that
+stately home: "On the eve of the death of a Duke of Dorset, two black
+owls come always and perch on the battlements. They remain there
+through the night, hooting. At dawn they fly away, none knows
+whither." Perhaps, thought she, at this very moment these two birds
+were on the battlements.
+
+The music ceased. In the hush that followed it, her applause rang
+sharp and notable. Not so Chopin's. Of him and his intense excitement
+none but his companion was aware. "Plus fin que Pachmann!" he
+reiterated, waving his arms wildly, and dancing.
+
+"Tu auras une migraine affreuse. Rentrons, petit coeur!" said George
+Sand, gently but firmly.
+
+"Laisse-moi le saluer," cried the composer, struggling in her grasp.
+
+"Demain soir, oui. Il sera parmi nous," said the novelist, as she
+hurried him away. "Moi aussi," she added to herself, "je me promets un
+beau plaisir en faisant la connaissance de ce jeune homme."
+
+Zuleika was the first to rise as "ce jeune homme" came down from
+the dais. Now was the interval between the two parts of the
+programme. There was a general creaking and scraping of pushed-back
+chairs as the audience rose and went forth into the night. The noise
+aroused from sleep the good Warden, who, having peered at his
+programme, complimented the Duke with old-world courtesy and went to
+sleep again. Zuleika, thrusting her fan under one arm, shook the
+player by both hands. Also, she told him that she knew nothing about
+music really, but that she knew what she liked. As she passed with him
+up the aisle, she said this again. People who say it are never tired
+of saying it.
+
+Outside, the crowd was greater than ever. All the undergraduates from
+all the Colleges seemed now to be concentrated in the great Front
+Quadrangle of Judas. Even in the glow of the Japanese lanterns that
+hung around in honour of the concert, the faces of the lads looked a
+little pale. For it was known by all now that the Duke was to die.
+Even while the concert was in progress, the news had spread out from
+the Hall, through the thronged doorway, down the thronged steps, to
+the confines of the crowd. Nor had Oover and the other men from the
+Junta made any secret of their own determination. And now, as the
+rest saw Zuleika yet again at close quarters, and verified their
+remembrance of her, the half-formed desire in them to die too was
+hardened to a vow.
+
+You cannot make a man by standing a sheep on its hind-legs. But by
+standing a flock of sheep in that position you can make a crowd of
+men. If man were not a gregarious animal, the world might have
+achieved, by this time, some real progress towards civilisation.
+Segregate him, and he is no fool. But let him loose among his fellows,
+and he is lost--he becomes just an unit in unreason. If any one of the
+undergraduates had met Miss Dobson in the desert of Sahara, he would
+have fallen in love with her; but not one in a thousand of them would
+have wished to die because she did not love him. The Duke's was a
+peculiar case. For him to fall in love was itself a violent peripety,
+bound to produce a violent upheaval; and such was his pride that for
+his love to be unrequited would naturally enamour him of death. These
+other, these quite ordinary, young men were the victims less of
+Zuleika than of the Duke's example, and of one another. A crowd,
+proportionately to its size, magnifies all that in its units pertains
+to the emotions, and diminishes all that in them pertains to thought.
+It was because these undergraduates were a crowd that their passion
+for Zuleika was so intense; and it was because they were a crowd that
+they followed so blindly the lead given to them. To die for Miss
+Dobson was "the thing to do." The Duke was going to do it. The Junta
+was going to do it. It is a hateful fact, but we must face the fact,
+that snobbishness was one of the springs to the tragedy here
+chronicled.
+
+We may set to this crowd's credit that it refrained now from following
+Zuleika. Not one of the ladies present was deserted by her escort. All
+the men recognised the Duke's right to be alone with Zuleika now. We
+may set also to their credit that they carefully guarded the ladies
+from all knowledge of what was afoot.
+
+Side by side, the great lover and his beloved wandered away, beyond
+the light of the Japanese lanterns, and came to Salt Cellar.
+
+The moon, like a gardenia in the night's button-hole--but no! why
+should a writer never be able to mention the moon without likening her
+to something else--usually something to which she bears not the
+faintest resemblance? . . . The moon, looking like nothing whatsoever
+but herself, was engaged in her old and futile endeavour to mark the
+hours correctly on the sun-dial at the centre of the lawn. Never,
+except once, late one night in the eighteenth century, when the toper
+who was Sub-Warden had spent an hour in trying to set his watch here,
+had she received the slightest encouragement. Still she wanly
+persisted. And this was the more absurd in her because Salt Cellar
+offered very good scope for those legitimate effects of hers which we
+one and all admire. Was it nothing to her to have cut those black
+shadows across the cloisters? Was it nothing to her that she so
+magically mingled her rays with the candle-light shed forth from
+Zuleika's bedroom? Nothing, that she had cleansed the lawn of all its
+colour, and made of it a platform of silver-grey, fit for fairies to
+dance on?
+
+If Zuleika, as she paced the gravel path, had seen how transfigured--
+how nobly like the Tragic Muse--she was just now, she could not have
+gone on bothering the Duke for a keepsake of the tragedy that was to
+be.
+
+She was still set on having his two studs. He was still firm in his
+refusal to misappropriate those heirlooms. In vain she pointed out to
+him that the pearls he meant, the white ones, no longer existed; that
+the pearls he was wearing were no more "entailed" than if he had got
+them yesterday. "And you actually DID get them yesterday," she said.
+"And from me. And I want them back."
+
+"You are ingenious," he admitted. "I, in my simple way, am but head of
+the Tanville-Tankerton family. Had you accepted my offer of marriage,
+you would have had the right to wear these two pearls during your
+life-time. I am very happy to die for you. But tamper with the
+property of my successor I cannot and will not. I am sorry," he added.
+
+"Sorry!" echoed Zuleika. "Yes, and you were 'sorry' you couldn't dine
+with me to-night. But any little niggling scruple is more to you than
+I am. What old maids men are!" And viciously with her fan she struck
+one of the cloister pillars.
+
+Her outburst was lost on the Duke. At her taunt about his not dining
+with her, he had stood still, clapping one hand to his brow. The
+events of the early evening swept back to him--his speech, its
+unforeseen and horrible reception. He saw again the preternaturally
+solemn face of Oover, and the flushed faces of the rest. He had
+thought, as he pointed down to the abyss over which he stood, these
+fellows would recoil, and pull themselves together. They had recoiled,
+and pulled themselves together, only in the manner of athletes about
+to spring. He was responsible for them. His own life was his to lose:
+others he must not squander. Besides, he had reckoned to die alone,
+unique; aloft and apart . . . "There is something--something I had
+forgotten," he said to Zuleika, "something that will be a great shock
+to you"; and he gave her an outline of what had passed at the Junta.
+
+"And you are sure they really MEANT it?" she asked in a voice that
+trembled.
+
+"I fear so. But they were over-excited. They will recant their folly.
+I shall force them to."
+
+"They are not children. You yourself have just been calling them
+'men.' Why should they obey you?"
+
+She turned at sound of a footstep, and saw a young man approaching.
+He wore a coat like the Duke's, and in his hand he dangled a
+handkerchief. He bowed awkwardly, and, holding out the handkerchief,
+said to her "I beg your pardon, but I think you dropped this. I have
+just picked it up."
+
+Zuleika looked at the handkerchief, which was obviously a man's, and
+smilingly shook her head.
+
+"I don't think you know The MacQuern," said the Duke, with sulky
+grace. "This," he said to the intruder, "is Miss Dobson."
+
+"And is it really true," asked Zuleika, retaining The MacQuern's hand,
+"that you want to die for me?"
+
+Well, the Scots are a self-seeking and a resolute, but a shy, race;
+swift to act, when swiftness is needed, but seldom knowing quite what
+to say. The MacQuern, with native reluctance to give something for
+nothing, had determined to have the pleasure of knowing the young lady
+for whom he was to lay down his life; and this purpose he had, by the
+simple stratagem of his own handkerchief, achieved. Nevertheless, in
+answer to Zuleika's question, and with the pressure of her hand to
+inspire him, the only word that rose to his lips was "Ay" (which may
+be roughly translated as "Yes").
+
+"You will do nothing of the sort," interposed the Duke.
+
+"There," said Zuleika, still retaining The MacQuern's hand, "you see,
+it is forbidden. You must not defy our dear little Duke. He is not
+used to it. It is not done."
+
+"I don't know," said The MacQuern, with a stony glance at the Duke,
+"that he has anything to do with the matter."
+
+"He is older and wiser than you. More a man of the world. Regard him
+as your tutor."
+
+"Do YOU want me not to die for you?" asked the young man.
+
+"Ah, _I_ should not dare to impose my wishes on you," said she,
+dropping his hand. "Even," she added, "if I knew what my wishes were.
+And I don't. I know only that I think it is very, very beautiful of
+you to think of dying for me."
+
+"Then that settles it," said The MacQuern.
+
+"No, no! You must not let yourself be influenced by ME. Besides, I am
+not in a mood to influence anybody. I am overwhelmed. Tell me," she
+said, heedless of the Duke, who stood tapping his heel on the ground,
+with every manifestation of disapproval and impatience, "tell me, is
+it true that some of the other men love me too, and--feel as you do?"
+
+The MacQuern said cautiously that he could answer for no one but
+himself. "But," he allowed, "I saw a good many men whom I know,
+outside the Hall here, just now, and they seemed to have made up their
+minds."
+
+"To die for me? To-morrow?"
+
+"To-morrow. After the Eights, I suppose; at the same time as the Duke.
+It wouldn't do to leave the races undecided."
+
+"Of COURSE not. But the poor dears! It is too touching! I have done
+nothing, nothing to deserve it."
+
+"Nothing whatsoever," said the Duke drily.
+
+"Oh HE," said Zuleika, "thinks me an unredeemed brute; just because I
+don't love him. YOU, dear Mr. MacQuern--does one call you 'Mr.'? 'The'
+would sound so odd in the vocative. And I can't very well call you
+'MacQuern'--YOU don't think me unkind, do you? I simply can't bear to
+think of all these young lives cut short without my having done a
+thing to brighten them. What can I do?--what can I do to show my
+gratitude?"
+
+An idea struck her. She looked up to the lit window of her room.
+"Melisande!" she called.
+
+A figure appeared at the window. "Mademoiselle desire?"
+
+"My tricks, Melisande! Bring down the box, quick!" She turned
+excitedly to the two young men. "It is all I can do in return, you
+see. If I could dance for them, I would. If I could sing, I would
+sing to them. I do what I can. You," she said to the Duke, "must
+go on to the platform and announce it."
+
+"Announce what?"
+
+"Why, that I am going to do my tricks! All you need say is 'Ladies and
+gentlemen, I have the pleasure to--' What is the matter now?"
+
+"You make me feel slightly unwell," said the Duke.
+
+"And YOU are the most d-dis-disobliging and the unkindest and the
+b-beastliest person I ever met," Zuleika sobbed at him through her
+hands. The MacQuern glared reproaches at him. So did Melisande, who
+had just appeared through the postern, holding in her arms the great
+casket of malachite. A painful scene; and the Duke gave in. He said he
+would do anything--anything. Peace was restored.
+
+The MacQuern had relieved Melisande of her burden; and to him was the
+privilege of bearing it, in procession with his adored and her quelled
+mentor, towards the Hall.
+
+Zuleika babbled like a child going to a juvenile party. This was the
+great night, as yet, in her life. Illustrious enough already it had
+seemed to her, as eve of that ultimate flattery vowed her by the Duke.
+So fine a thing had his doom seemed to her--his doom alone--that it
+had sufficed to flood her pink pearl with the right hue. And now not
+on him alone need she ponder. Now he was but the centre of a group--a
+group that might grow and grow--a group that might with a little
+encouragement be a multitude . . . With such hopes dimly whirling in
+the recesses of her soul, her beautiful red lips babbled.
+
+
+X
+
+Sounds of a violin, drifting out through the open windows of the Hall,
+suggested that the second part of the concert had begun. All the
+undergraduates, however, except the few who figured in the programme,
+had waited outside till their mistress should re-appear. The sisters
+and cousins of the Judas men had been escorted back to their places
+and hurriedly left there.
+
+It was a hushed, tense crowd.
+
+"The poor darlings!" murmured Zuleika, pausing to survey them. "And
+oh," she exclaimed, "there won't be room for all of them in there!"
+
+"You might give an 'overflow' performance out here afterwards,"
+suggested the Duke, grimly.
+
+This idea flashed on her a better. Why not give her performance here
+and now?--now, so eager was she for contact, as it were, with this
+crowd; here, by moonlight, in the pretty glow of these paper lanterns.
+Yes, she said, let it be here and now; and she bade the Duke make the
+announcement.
+
+"What shall I say?" he asked. "'Gentlemen, I have the pleasure to
+announce that Miss Zuleika Dobson, the world-renowned She-Wizard, will
+now oblige'? Or shall I call them 'Gents,' tout court?"
+
+She could afford to laugh at his ill-humour. She had his promise of
+obedience. She told him to say something graceful and simple.
+
+The noise of the violin had ceased. There was not a breath of wind.
+The crowd in the quadrangle was as still and as silent as the night
+itself. Nowhere a tremour. And it was borne in on Zuleika that this
+crowd had one mind as well as one heart--a common resolve, calm and
+clear, as well as a common passion. No need for her to strengthen the
+spell now. No waverers here. And thus it came true that gratitude was
+the sole motive for her display.
+
+She stood with eyes downcast and hands folded behind her, moonlit in
+the glow of lanterns, modest to the point of pathos, while the Duke
+gracefully and simply introduced her to the multitude. He was, he
+said, empowered by the lady who stood beside him to say that she would
+be pleased to give them an exhibition of her skill in the art to which
+she had devoted her life--an art which, more potently perhaps than any
+other, touched in mankind the sense of mystery and stirred the faculty
+of wonder; the most truly romantic of all the arts: he referred to the
+art of conjuring. It was not too much to say that by her mastery of
+this art, in which hitherto, it must be confessed, women had made no
+very great mark, Miss Zuleika Dobson (for such was the name of the
+lady who stood beside him) had earned the esteem of the whole
+civilised world. And here in Oxford, and in this College especially,
+she had a peculiar claim to--might he say?--their affectionate regard,
+inasmuch as she was the grand-daughter of their venerable and
+venerated Warden.
+
+As the Duke ceased, there came from his hearers a sound like the
+rustling of leaves. In return for it, Zuleika performed that graceful
+act of subsidence to the verge of collapse which is usually kept for
+the delectation of some royal person. And indeed, in the presence of
+this doomed congress, she did experience humility; for she was not
+altogether without imagination. But, as she arose from her "bob," she
+was her own bold self again, bright mistress of the situation.
+
+It was impossible for her to give her entertainment in full. Some of
+her tricks (notably the Secret Aquarium, and the Blazing Ball of
+Worsted) needed special preparation, and a table fitted with a
+"servante" or secret tray. The table for to-night's performance was
+an ordinary one, brought out from the porter's lodge. The MacQuern
+deposited on it the great casket. Zuleika, retaining him as her
+assistant, picked nimbly out from their places and put in array the
+curious appurtenances of her art--the Magic Canister, the Demon Egg-
+Cup, and the sundry other vessels which, lost property of young Edward
+Gibbs, had been by a Romanoff transmuted from wood to gold, and were
+now by the moon reduced temporarily to silver.
+
+In a great dense semicircle the young men disposed themselves around
+her. Those who were in front squatted down on the gravel; those who
+were behind knelt; the rest stood. Young Oxford! Here, in this mass of
+boyish faces, all fused and obliterated, was the realisation of that
+phrase. Two or three thousands of human bodies, human souls? Yet the
+effect of them in the moonlight was as of one great passive monster.
+
+So was it seen by the Duke, as he stood leaning against the wall,
+behind Zuleika's table. He saw it as a monster couchant and enchanted,
+a monster that was to die; and its death was in part his own doing.
+But remorse in him gave place to hostility. Zuleika had begun her
+performance. She was producing the Barber's Pole from her mouth. And
+it was to her that the Duke's heart went suddenly out in tenderness
+and pity. He forgot her levity and vanity--her wickedness, as he had
+inwardly called it. He thrilled with that intense anxiety which comes
+to a man when he sees his beloved offering to the public an exhibition
+of her skill, be it in singing, acting, dancing, or any other art.
+Would she acquit herself well? The lover's trepidation is painful
+enough when the beloved has genius--how should these clods appreciate
+her? and who set them in judgment over her? It must be worse when the
+beloved has mediocrity. And Zuleika, in conjuring, had rather less
+than that. Though indeed she took herself quite seriously as a
+conjurer, she brought to her art neither conscience nor ambition, in
+any true sense of those words. Since her debut, she had learned
+nothing and forgotten nothing. The stale and narrow repertory which
+she had acquired from Edward Gibbs was all she had to offer; and this,
+and her marked lack of skill, she eked out with the self-same "patter"
+that had sufficed that impossible young man. It was especially her
+jokes that now sent shudders up the spine of her lover, and brought
+tears to his eyes, and kept him in a state of terror as to what she
+would say next. "You see," she had exclaimed lightly after the
+production of the Barber's Pole, "how easy it is to set up business as
+a hairdresser." Over the Demon Egg-Cup she said that the egg was "as
+good as fresh." And her constantly reiterated catch-phrase--"Well,
+this is rather queer!"--was the most distressing thing of all.
+
+The Duke blushed to think what these men thought of her. Would love
+were blind! These her lovers were doubtless judging her. They forgave
+her--confound their impudence!--because of her beauty. The banality of
+her performance was an added grace. It made her piteous. Damn them,
+they were sorry for her. Little Noaks was squatting in the front row,
+peering up at her through his spectacles. Noaks was as sorry for her
+as the rest of them. Why didn't the earth yawn and swallow them all
+up?
+
+Our hero's unreasoning rage was fed by a not unreasonable jealousy. It
+was clear to him that Zuleika had forgotten his existence. To-day, as
+soon as he had killed her love, she had shown him how much less to her
+was his love than the crowd's. And now again it was only the crowd she
+cared for. He followed with his eyes her long slender figure as she
+threaded her way in and out of the crowd, sinuously, confidingly,
+producing a penny from one lad's elbow, a threepenny-bit from between
+another's neck and collar, half a crown from another's hair, and
+always repeating in that flute-like voice of hers "Well, this is
+rather queer!" Hither and thither she fared, her neck and arms
+gleaming white from the luminous blackness of her dress, in the
+luminous blueness of the night. At a distance, she might have been a
+wraith; or a breeze made visible; a vagrom breeze, warm and delicate,
+and in league with death.
+
+Yes, that is how she might have seemed to a casual observer. But to
+the Duke there was nothing weird about her: she was radiantly a woman;
+a goddess; and his first and last love. Bitter his heart was, but only
+against the mob she wooed, not against her for wooing it. She was
+cruel? All goddesses are that. She was demeaning herself? His soul
+welled up anew in pity, in passion.
+
+Yonder, in the Hall, the concert ran its course, making a feeble
+incidental music to the dark emotions of the quadrangle. It ended
+somewhat before the close of Zuleika's rival show; and then the steps
+from the Hall were thronged by ladies, who, with a sprinkling of dons,
+stood in attitudes of refined displeasure and vulgar curiosity. The
+Warden was just awake enough to notice the sea of undergraduates.
+Suspecting some breach of College discipline, he retired hastily to
+his own quarters, for fear his dignity might be somehow compromised.
+
+Was there ever, I wonder, an historian so pure as not to have wished
+just once to fob off on his readers just one bright fable for effect?
+I find myself sorely tempted to tell you that on Zuleika, as her
+entertainment drew to a close, the spirit of the higher thaumaturgy
+descended like a flame and found in her a worthy agent. Specious
+Apollyon whispers to me "Where would be the harm? Tell your readers
+that she cast a seed on the ground, and that therefrom presently arose
+a tamarind-tree which blossomed and bore fruit and, withering,
+vanished. Or say she conjured from an empty basket of osier a hissing
+and bridling snake. Why not? Your readers would be excited, gratified.
+And you would never be found out." But the grave eyes of Clio are bent
+on me, her servant. Oh pardon, madam: I did but waver for an instant.
+It is not too late to tell my readers that the climax of Zuleika's
+entertainment was only that dismal affair, the Magic Canister.
+
+It she took from the table, and, holding it aloft, cried "Now, before
+I say good night, I want to see if I have your confidence. But you
+mustn't think this is the confidence trick!" She handed the vessel to
+The MacQuern, who, looking like an overgrown acolyte, bore it after
+her as she went again among the audience. Pausing before a man in the
+front row, she asked him if he would trust her with his watch. He held
+it out to her. "Thank you," she said, letting her fingers touch his
+for a moment before she dropped it into the Magic Canister. From
+another man she borrowed a cigarette-case, from another a neck-tie,
+from another a pair of sleeve-links, from Noaks a ring--one of those
+iron rings which are supposed, rightly or wrongly, to alleviate
+rheumatism. And when she had made an ample selection, she began her
+return-journey to the table.
+
+On her way she saw in the shadow of the wall the figure of her
+forgotten Duke. She saw him, the one man she had ever loved, also
+the first man who had wished definitely to die for her; and she was
+touched by remorse. She had said she would remember him to her dying
+day; and already . . . But had he not refused her the wherewithal
+to remember him--the pearls she needed as the clou of her dear
+collection, the great relic among relics?
+
+"Would you trust me with your studs?" she asked him, in a voice that
+could be heard throughout the quadrangle, with a smile that was for
+him alone.
+
+There was no help for it. He quickly extricated from his shirt-front
+the black pearl and the pink. Her thanks had a special emphasis.
+
+The MacQuern placed the Magic Canister before her on the table. She
+pressed the outer sheath down on it. Then she inverted it so that the
+contents fell into the false lid; then she opened it, looked into it,
+and, exclaiming "Well, this is rather queer!" held it up so that the
+audience whose intelligence she was insulting might see there was
+nothing in it.
+
+"Accidents," she said, "will happen in the best-regulated canisters!
+But I think there is just a chance that I shall be able to restore
+your property. Excuse me for a moment." She then shut the canister,
+released the false lid, made several passes over it, opened it, looked
+into it and said with a flourish "Now I can clear my character!" Again
+she went among the crowd, attended by The MacQuern; and the loans--
+priceless now because she had touched them--were in due course
+severally restored. When she took the canister from her acolyte,
+only the two studs remained in it.
+
+Not since the night of her flitting from the Gibbs' humble home had
+Zuleika thieved. Was she a back-slider? Would she rob the Duke, and
+his heir-presumptive, and Tanville-Tankertons yet unborn? Alas, yes.
+But what she now did was proof that she had qualms. And her way of
+doing it showed that for legerdemain she had after all a natural
+aptitude which, properly trained, might have won for her an honourable
+place in at least the second rank of contemporary prestidigitators.
+With a gesture of her disengaged hand, so swift as to be scarcely
+visible, she unhooked her ear-rings and "passed" them into the
+canister. This she did as she turned away from the crowd, on her way
+to the Duke. At the same moment, in a manner technically not less
+good, though morally deplorable, she withdrew the studs and "vanished"
+them into her bosom.
+
+Was it triumph, or shame, or of both a little that so flushed her
+cheeks as she stood before the man she had robbed? Or was it the
+excitement of giving a present to the man she had loved? Certain it is
+that the nakedness of her ears gave a new look to her face--a
+primitive look, open and sweetly wild. The Duke saw the difference,
+without noticing the cause. She was more adorable than ever. He
+blenched and swayed as in proximity to a loveliness beyond endurance.
+His heart cried out within him. A sudden mist came over his eyes.
+
+In the canister that she held out to him, the two pearls rattled like
+dice.
+
+"Keep them!" he whispered.
+
+"I shall," she whispered back, almost shyly. "But these, these are for
+you." And she took one of his hands, and, holding it open, tilted the
+canister over it, and let drop into it the two ear-rings, and went
+quickly away.
+
+As she re-appeared at the table, the crowd gave her a long ovation of
+gratitude for her performance--an ovation all the more impressive
+because it was solemn and subdued. She curtseyed again and again, not
+indeed with the timid simplicity of her first obeisance (so familiar
+already was she with the thought of the crowd's doom), but rather in
+the manner of a prima donna--chin up, eyelids down, all teeth
+manifest, and hands from the bosom flung ecstatically wide asunder.
+
+You know how, at a concert, a prima donna who has just sung insists on
+shaking hands with the accompanist, and dragging him forward, to show
+how beautiful her nature is, into the applause that is for herself
+alone. And your heart, like mine, has gone out to the wretched victim.
+Even so would you have felt for The MacQuern when Zuleika, on the
+implied assumption that half the credit was his, grasped him by the
+wrist, and, continuing to curtsey, would not release him till the last
+echoes of the clapping had died away.
+
+The ladies on the steps of the Hall moved down into the quadrangle,
+spreading their resentment like a miasma. The tragic passion of the
+crowd was merged in mere awkwardness. There was a general movement
+towards the College gate.
+
+Zuleika was putting her tricks back into the great casket, The
+MacQuern assisting her. The Scots, as I have said, are a shy race,
+but a resolute and a self-seeking. This young chieftain had not yet
+recovered from what his heroine had let him in for. But he did not
+lose the opportunity of asking her to lunch with him to-morrow.
+
+"Delighted," she said, fitting the Demon Egg-Cup into its groove.
+Then, looking up at him, "Are you popular?" she asked. "Have you many
+friends?" He nodded. She said he must invite them all.
+
+This was a blow to the young man, who, at once thrifty and infatuate,
+had planned a luncheon a deux. "I had hoped--" he began.
+
+"Vainly," she cut him short.
+
+There was a pause. "Whom shall I invite, then?"
+
+"I don't know any of them. How should I have preferences?" She
+remembered the Duke. She looked round and saw him still standing in
+the shadow of the wall. He came towards her. "Of course," she said
+hastily to her host, "you must ask HIM."
+
+The MacQuern complied. He turned to the Duke and told him that Miss
+Dobson had very kindly promised to lunch with him to-morrow. "And,"
+said Zuleika, "I simply WON'T unless you will."
+
+The Duke looked at her. Had it not been arranged that he and she
+should spend his last day together? Did it mean nothing that she had
+given him her ear-rings? Quickly drawing about him some remnants of
+his tattered pride, he hid his wound, and accepted the invitation.
+
+"It seems a shame," said Zuleika to The MacQuern, "to ask you to bring
+this great heavy box all the way back again. But--"
+
+Those last poor rags of pride fell away now. The Duke threw a
+prehensile hand on the casket, and, coldly glaring at The MacQuern,
+pointed with his other hand towards the College gate. He, and he
+alone, was going to see Zuleika home. It was his last night on earth,
+and he was not to be trifled with. Such was the message of his eyes.
+The Scotsman's flashed back a precisely similar message.
+
+Men had fought for Zuleika, but never in her presence. Her eyes
+dilated. She had not the slightest impulse to throw herself between
+the two antagonists. Indeed, she stepped back, so as not to be in the
+way. A short sharp fight--how much better that is than bad blood! She
+hoped the better man would win; and (do not misjudge her) she rather
+hoped this man was the Duke. It occurred to her--a vague memory of
+some play or picture--that she ought to be holding aloft a candelabra
+of lit tapers; no, that was only done indoors, and in the eighteenth
+century. Ought she to hold a sponge? Idle, these speculations of hers,
+and based on complete ignorance of the manners and customs of
+undergraduates. The Duke and The MacQuern would never have come to
+blows in the presence of a lady. Their conflict was necessarily
+spiritual.
+
+And it was the Scotsman, Scots though he was, who had to yield. Cowed
+by something demoniac in the will-power pitted against his, he found
+himself retreating in the direction indicated by the Duke's
+forefinger.
+
+As he disappeared into the porch, Zuleika turned to the Duke. "You
+were splendid," she said softly. He knew that very well. Does the stag
+in his hour of victory need a diploma from the hind? Holding in his
+hands the malachite casket that was the symbol of his triumph, the
+Duke smiled dictatorially at his darling. He came near to thinking of
+her as a chattel. Then with a pang he remembered his abject devotion
+to her. Abject no longer though! The victory he had just won restored
+his manhood, his sense of supremacy among his fellows. He loved this
+woman on equal terms. She was transcendent? So was he, Dorset. To-
+night the world had on its moonlit surface two great ornaments--
+Zuleika and himself. Neither of the pair could be replaced. Was one of
+them to be shattered? Life and love were good. He had been mad to
+think of dying.
+
+No word was spoken as they went together to Salt Cellar. She
+expected him to talk about her conjuring tricks. Could he have been
+disappointed? She dared not inquire; for she had the sensitiveness,
+though no other quality whatsoever, of the true artist. She felt
+herself aggrieved. She had half a mind to ask him to give her back
+her ear-rings. And by the way, he hadn't yet thanked her for them!
+Well, she would make allowances for a condemned man. And again she
+remembered the omen of which he had told her. She looked at him, and
+then up into the sky. "This same moon," she said to herself, "sees the
+battlements of Tankerton. Does she see two black owls there? Does she
+hear them hooting?"
+
+They were in Salt Cellar now. "Melisande!" she called up to her
+window.
+
+"Hush!" said the Duke, "I have something to say to you."
+
+"Well, you can say it all the better without that great box in your
+hands. I want my maid to carry it up to my room for me." And again she
+called out for Melisande, and received no answer. "I suppose she's in
+the house-keeper's room or somewhere. You had better put the box down
+inside the door. She can bring it up later."
+
+She pushed open the postern; and the Duke, as he stepped across the
+threshold, thrilled with a romantic awe. Re-emerging a moment later
+into the moonlight, he felt that she had been right about the box: it
+was fatal to self-expression; and he was glad he had not tried to
+speak on the way from the Front Quad: the soul needs gesture; and the
+Duke's first gesture now was to seize Zuleika's hands in his.
+
+She was too startled to move. "Zuleika!" he whispered. She was too
+angry to speak, but with a sudden twist she freed her wrists and
+darted back.
+
+He laughed. "You are afraid of me. You are afraid to let me kiss you,
+because you are afraid of loving me. This afternoon--here--I all but
+kissed you. I mistook you for Death. I was enamoured of Death. I was a
+fool. That is what YOU are, you incomparable darling: you are a fool.
+You are afraid of life. I am not. I love life. I am going to live for
+you, do you hear?"
+
+She stood with her back to the postern. Anger in her eyes had given
+place to scorn. "You mean," she said, "that you go back on your
+promise?"
+
+"You will release me from it."
+
+"You mean you are afraid to die?"
+
+"You will not be guilty of my death. You love me."
+
+"Good night, you miserable coward." She stepped back through the
+postern.
+
+"Don't, Zuleika! Miss Dobson, don't! Pull yourself together! Reflect!
+I implore you . . . You will repent . . ."
+
+Slowly she closed the postern on him.
+
+"You will repent. I shall wait here, under your window . . ."
+
+He heard a bolt rasped into its socket. He heard the retreat of a
+light tread on the paven hall.
+
+And he hadn't even kissed her! That was his first thought. He ground
+his heel in the gravel.
+
+And he had hurt her wrists! This was Zuleika's first thought, as she
+came into her bedroom. Yes, there were two red marks where he had held
+her. No man had ever dared to lay hands on her. With a sense of
+contamination, she proceeded to wash her hands thoroughly with soap
+and water. From time to time such words as "cad" and "beast" came
+through her teeth.
+
+She dried her hands and flung herself into a chair, arose and went
+pacing the room. So this was the end of her great night! What had she
+done to deserve it? How had he dared?
+
+There was a sound as of rain against the window. She was glad. The
+night needed cleansing.
+
+He had told her she was afraid of life. Life!--to have herself
+caressed by HIM; humbly to devote herself to being humbly doted on; to
+be the slave of a slave; to swim in a private pond of treacle--ugh! If
+the thought weren't so cloying and degrading, it would be laughable.
+
+For a moment her hands hovered over those two golden and gemmed
+volumes encasing Bradshaw and the A.B.C. Guide. To leave Oxford by an
+early train, leave him to drown unthanked, unlooked at . . . But this
+could not be done without slighting all those hundreds of other men
+. . . And besides . . .
+
+Again that sound on the window-pane. This time it startled her. There
+seemed to be no rain. Could it have been--little bits of gravel? She
+darted noiselessly to the window, pushed it open, and looked down. She
+saw the upturned face of the Duke. She stepped back, trembling with
+fury, staring around her. Inspiration came.
+
+She thrust her head out again. "Are you there?" she whispered.
+
+"Yes, yes. I knew you would come."
+
+"Wait a moment, wait!"
+
+The water-jug stood where she had left it, on the floor by the wash-
+stand. It was almost full, rather heavy. She bore it steadily to the
+window, and looked out.
+
+"Come a little nearer!" she whispered.
+
+The upturned and moonlit face obeyed her. She saw its lips forming the
+word "Zuleika." She took careful aim.
+
+Full on the face crashed the cascade of moonlit water, shooting out on
+all sides like the petals of some great silver anemone.
+
+She laughed shrilly as she leapt back, letting the empty jug roll
+over on the carpet. Then she stood tense, crouching, her hands to her
+mouth, her eyes askance, as much as to say "Now I've done it!" She
+listened hard, holding her breath. In the stillness of the night was a
+faint sound of dripping water, and presently of footsteps going away.
+Then stillness unbroken.
+
+
+XI
+
+I said that I was Clio's servant. And I felt, when I said it, that you
+looked at me dubiously, and murmured among yourselves.
+
+Not that you doubted I was somewhat connected with Clio's household.
+The lady after whom I have named this book is alive, and well known to
+some of you personally, to all of you by repute. Nor had you finished
+my first page before you guessed my theme to be that episode in her
+life which caused so great a sensation among the newspaper-reading
+public a few years ago. (It all seems but yesterday, does it not? They
+are still vivid to us, those head-lines. We have hardly yet ceased to
+be edified by the morals pointed in those leading articles.) And yet
+very soon you found me behaving just like any novelist--reporting the
+exact words that passed between the protagonists at private interviews
+--aye, and the exact thoughts and emotions that were in their breasts.
+Little wonder that you wondered! Let me make things clear to you.
+
+I have my mistress' leave to do this. At first (for reasons which you
+will presently understand) she demurred. But I pointed out to her that
+I had been placed in a false position, and that until this were
+rectified neither she nor I could reap the credit due to us.
+
+Know, then, that for a long time Clio had been thoroughly
+discontented. She was happy enough, she says, when first she
+left the home of Pierus, her father, to become a Muse. On those
+humble beginnings she looks back with affection. She kept only one
+servant, Herodotus. The romantic element in him appealed to her. He
+died, and she had about her a large staff of able and faithful
+servants, whose way of doing their work irritated and depressed her.
+To them, apparently, life consisted of nothing but politics and
+military operations--things to which she, being a woman, was somewhat
+indifferent. She was jealous of Melpomene. It seemed to her that her
+own servants worked from without at a mass of dry details which might
+as well be forgotten. Melpomene's worked on material that was
+eternally interesting--the souls of men and women; and not from
+without, either; but rather casting themselves into those souls and
+showing to us the essence of them. She was particularly struck by a
+remark of Aristotle's, that tragedy was "more philosophic" than
+history, inasmuch as it concerned itself with what might be, while
+history was concerned with merely what had been. This summed up for
+her what she had often felt, but could not have exactly formulated.
+She saw that the department over which she presided was at best an
+inferior one. She saw that just what she had liked--and rightly liked
+--in poor dear Herodotus was just what prevented him from being a good
+historian. It was wrong to mix up facts and fancies. But why should
+her present servants deal with only one little special set of the
+variegated facts of life? It was not in her power to interfere. The
+Nine, by the terms of the charter that Zeus had granted to them, were
+bound to leave their servants an absolutely free hand. But Clio could
+at least refrain from reading the works which, by a legal fiction, she
+was supposed to inspire. Once or twice in the course of a century, she
+would glance into this or that new history book, only to lay it down
+with a shrug of her shoulders. Some of the mediaeval chronicles she
+rather liked. But when, one day, Pallas asked her what she thought of
+"The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire" her only answer was "ostis
+toia echei en edone echei en edone toia" (For people who like that
+kind of thing, that is the kind of thing they like). This she did let
+slip. Generally, throughout all the centuries, she kept up a pretence
+of thinking history the greatest of all the arts. She always held her
+head high among her Sisters. It was only on the sly that she was an
+omnivorous reader of dramatic and lyric poetry. She watched with keen
+interest the earliest developments of the prose romance in southern
+Europe; and after the publication of "Clarissa Harlowe" she spent
+practically all her time in reading novels. It was not until the
+Spring of the year 1863 that an entirely new element forced itself
+into her peaceful life. Zeus fell in love with her.
+
+To us, for whom so quickly "time doth transfix the flourish set on
+youth," there is something strange, even a trifle ludicrous, in the
+thought that Zeus, after all these years, is still at the beck and
+call of his passions. And it seems anyhow lamentable that he has not
+yet gained self-confidence enough to appear in his own person to the
+lady of his choice, and is still at pains to transform himself into
+whatever object he deems likeliest to please her. To Clio, suddenly
+from Olympus, he flashed down in the semblance of Kinglake's "Invasion
+of the Crimea" (four vols., large 8vo, half-calf). She saw through his
+disguise immediately, and, with great courage and independence, bade
+him begone. Rebuffed, he was not deflected. Indeed it would seem that
+Clio's high spirit did but sharpen his desire. Hardly a day passed but
+he appeared in what he hoped would be the irresistible form--a
+recently discovered fragment of Polybius, an advance copy of the
+forthcoming issue of "The Historical Review," the note-book of
+Professor Carl Voertschlaffen . . . One day, all-prying Hermes told
+him of Clio's secret addiction to novel-reading. Thenceforth, year in,
+year out, it was in the form of fiction that Zeus wooed her. The sole
+result was that she grew sick of the sight of novels, and found a
+perverse pleasure in reading history. These dry details of what had
+actually happened were a relief, she told herself, from all that
+make-believe.
+
+One Sunday afternoon--the day before that very Monday on which this
+narrative opens--it occurred to her how fine a thing history might be
+if the historian had the novelist's privileges. Suppose he could be
+present at every scene which he was going to describe, a presence
+invisible and inevitable, and equipped with power to see into the
+breasts of all the persons whose actions he set himself to watch . . .
+
+While the Muse was thus musing, Zeus (disguised as Miss Annie S.
+Swan's latest work) paid his usual visit. She let her eyes rest on
+him. Hither and thither she divided her swift mind, and addressed him
+in winged words. "Zeus, father of gods and men, cloud-compeller, what
+wouldst thou of me? But first will I say what I would of thee"; and
+she besought him to extend to the writers of history such privileges
+as are granted to novelists. His whole manner had changed. He listened
+to her with the massive gravity of a ruler who never yet has allowed
+private influence to obscure his judgment. He was silent for some time
+after her appeal. Then, in a voice of thunder, which made quake the
+slopes of Parnassus, he gave his answer. He admitted the disabilities
+under which historians laboured. But the novelists--were they not
+equally handicapped? They had to treat of persons who never existed,
+events which never were. Only by the privilege of being in the thick
+of those events, and in the very bowels of those persons, could they
+hope to hold the reader's attention. If similar privileges were
+granted to the historian, the demand for novels would cease forthwith,
+and many thousand of hard-working, deserving men and women would be
+thrown out of employment. In fact, Clio had asked him an impossible
+favour. But he might--he said he conceivably might--be induced to let
+her have her way just once. In that event, all she would have to do
+was to keep her eye on the world's surface, and then, so soon as she
+had reason to think that somewhere was impending something of great
+import, to choose an historian. On him, straightway, Zeus would confer
+invisibility, inevitability, and psychic penetration, with a flawless
+memory thrown in.
+
+On the following afternoon, Clio's roving eye saw Zuleika stepping
+from the Paddington platform into the Oxford train. A few moments
+later I found myself suddenly on Parnassus. In hurried words Clio told
+me how I came there, and what I had to do. She said she had selected
+me because she knew me to be honest, sober, and capable, and no
+stranger to Oxford. Another moment, and I was at the throne of Zeus.
+With a majesty of gesture which I shall never forget, he stretched his
+hand over me, and I was indued with the promised gifts. And then, lo!
+I was on the platform of Oxford station. The train was not due for
+another hour. But the time passed pleasantly enough.
+
+It was fun to float all unseen, to float all unhampered by any
+corporeal nonsense, up and down the platform. It was fun to watch
+the inmost thoughts of the station-master, of the porters, of the
+young person at the buffet. But of course I did not let the holiday-
+mood master me. I realised the seriousness of my mission. I must
+concentrate myself on the matter in hand: Miss Dobson's visit. What
+was going to happen? Prescience was no part of my outfit. From what I
+knew about Miss Dobson, I deduced that she would be a great success.
+That was all. Had I had the instinct that was given to those Emperors
+in stone, and even to the dog Corker, I should have begged Clio to
+send in my stead some man of stronger nerve. She had charged me to be
+calmly vigilant, scrupulously fair. I could have been neither, had I
+from the outset foreseen all. Only because the immediate future was
+broken to me by degrees, first as a set of possibilities, then as a
+set of probabilities that yet might not come off, was I able to fulfil
+the trust imposed in me. Even so, it was hard. I had always accepted
+the doctrine that to understand all is to forgive all. Thanks to Zeus,
+I understood all about Miss Dobson, and yet there were moments when
+she repelled me--moments when I wished to see her neither from without
+nor from within. So soon as the Duke of Dorset met her on the Monday
+night, I felt I was in duty bound to keep him under constant
+surveillance. Yet there were moments when I was so sorry for
+him that I deemed myself a brute for shadowing him.
+
+Ever since I can remember, I have been beset by a recurring doubt as
+to whether I be or be not quite a gentleman. I have never attempted to
+define that term: I have but feverishly wondered whether in its usual
+acceptation (whatever that is) it be strictly applicable to myself.
+Many people hold that the qualities connoted by it are primarily
+moral--a kind heart, honourable conduct, and so forth. On Clio's
+mission, I found honour and kindness tugging me in precisely opposite
+directions. In so far as honour tugged the harder, was I the more or
+the less gentlemanly? But the test is not a fair one. Curiosity tugged
+on the side of honour. This goes to prove me a cad? Oh, set against it
+the fact that I did at one point betray Clio's trust. When Miss Dobson
+had done the deed recorded at the close of the foregoing chapter, I
+gave the Duke of Dorset an hour's grace.
+
+I could have done no less. In the lives of most of us is some one
+thing that we would not after the lapse of how many years soever
+confess to our most understanding friend; the thing that does not bear
+thinking of; the one thing to be forgotten; the unforgettable thing.
+Not the commission of some great crime: this can be atoned for by
+great penances; and the very enormity of it has a dark grandeur.
+Maybe, some little deadly act of meanness, some hole-and-corner
+treachery? But what a man has once willed to do, his will helps him to
+forget. The unforgettable thing in his life is usually not a thing he
+has done or left undone, but a thing done to him--some insolence or
+cruelty for which he could not, or did not, avenge himself. This it is
+that often comes back to him, years after, in his dreams, and thrusts
+itself suddenly into his waking thoughts, so that he clenches his
+hands, and shakes his head, and hums a tune loudly--anything to beat
+it off. In the very hour when first befell him that odious
+humiliation, would you have spied on him? I gave the Duke of Dorset an
+hour's grace.
+
+What were his thoughts in that interval, what words, if any, he
+uttered to the night, never will be known. For this, Clio has abused
+me in language less befitting a Muse than a fishwife. I do not care. I
+would rather be chidden by Clio than by my own sense of delicacy, any
+day.
+
+
+XII
+
+Not less averse than from dogging the Duke was I from remaining
+another instant in the presence of Miss Dobson. There seemed to be no
+possible excuse for her. This time she had gone too far. She was
+outrageous. As soon as the Duke had had time to get clear away, I
+floated out into the night.
+
+I may have consciously reasoned that the best way to forget the
+present was in the revival of memories. Or I may have been driven by a
+mere homing instinct. Anyhow, it was in the direction of my old
+College that I went. Midnight was tolling as I floated in through the
+shut grim gate at which I had so often stood knocking for admission.
+
+The man who now occupied my room had sported his oak--my oak. I read
+the name on the visiting-card attached thereto--E. J. Craddock--and
+went in.
+
+E. J. Craddock, interloper, was sitting at my table, with elbows
+squared and head on one side, in the act of literary composition. The
+oars and caps on my walls betokened him a rowing-man. Indeed, I
+recognised his somewhat heavy face as that of the man whom, from the
+Judas barge this afternoon, I had seen rowing "stroke" in my College
+Eight.
+
+He ought, therefore, to have been in bed and asleep two hours ago. And
+the offence of his vigil was aggravated by a large tumbler that stood
+in front of him, containing whisky and soda. From this he took a deep
+draught. Then he read over what he had written. I did not care to peer
+over his shoulder at MS. which, though written in my room, was not
+intended for my eyes. But the writer's brain was open to me; and he
+had written "I, the undersigned Edward Joseph Craddock, do hereby
+leave and bequeath all my personal and other property to Zuleika
+Dobson, spinster. This is my last will and testament."
+
+He gnawed his pen, and presently altered the "hereby leave" to "hereby
+and herewith leave." Fool!
+
+I thereby and therewith left him. As I emerged through the floor of
+the room above--through the very carpet that had so often been steeped
+in wine, and encrusted with smithereens of glass, in the brave old
+days of a well-remembered occupant--I found two men, both of them
+evidently reading-men. One of them was pacing round the room. "Do you
+know," he was saying, "what she reminded me of, all the time? Those
+words--aren't they in the Song of Solomon?--'fair as the moon, clear
+as the sun, and . . . and . . .'"
+
+"'Terrible as an army with banners,'" supplied his host--rather
+testily, for he was writing a letter. It began "My dear Father. By the
+time you receive this I shall have taken a step which . . ."
+
+Clearly it was vain to seek distraction in my old College. I floated
+out into the untenanted meadows. Over them was the usual coverlet of
+white vapour, trailed from the Isis right up to Merton Wall. The scent
+of these meadows' moisture is the scent of Oxford. Even in hottest
+noon, one feels that the sun has not dried THEM. Always there is
+moisture drifting across them, drifting into the Colleges. It, one
+suspects, must have had much to do with the evocation of what is
+called the Oxford spirit--that gentlest spirit, so lingering and
+searching, so dear to them who as youths were brought into ken of
+it, so exasperating to them who were not. Yes, certainly, it is this
+mild, miasmal air, not less than the grey beauty and gravity of the
+buildings, that has helped Oxford to produce, and foster eternally,
+her peculiar race of artist-scholars, scholar-artists. The
+undergraduate, in his brief periods of residence, is too buoyant to be
+mastered by the spirit of the place. He does but salute it, and catch
+the manner. It is on him who stays to spend his maturity here that the
+spirit will in its fulness gradually descend. The buildings and their
+traditions keep astir in his mind whatsoever is gracious; the climate,
+enfolding and enfeebling him, lulling him, keeps him careless of the
+sharp, harsh, exigent realities of the outer world. Careless? Not
+utterly. These realities may be seen by him. He may study them, be
+amused or touched by them. But they cannot fire him. Oxford is too
+damp for that. The "movements" made there have been no more than
+protests against the mobility of others. They have been without the
+dynamic quality implied in their name. They have been no more than the
+sighs of men gazing at what other men had left behind them; faint,
+impossible appeals to the god of retrogression, uttered for their own
+sake and ritual, rather than with any intent that they should be
+heard. Oxford, that lotus-land, saps the will-power, the power of
+action. But, in doing so, it clarifies the mind, makes larger the
+vision, gives, above all, that playful and caressing suavity of manner
+which comes of a conviction that nothing matters, except ideas, and
+that not even ideas are worth dying for, inasmuch as the ghosts of
+them slain seem worthy of yet more piously elaborate homage than can
+be given to them in their heyday. If the Colleges could be transferred
+to the dry and bracing top of some hill, doubtless they would be more
+evidently useful to the nation. But let us be glad there is no
+engineer or enchanter to compass that task. Egomet, I would liefer
+have the rest of England subside into the sea than have Oxford set on
+a salubrious level. For there is nothing in England to be matched with
+what lurks in the vapours of these meadows, and in the shadows of
+these spires--that mysterious, inenubilable spirit, spirit of Oxford.
+Oxford! The very sight of the word printed, or sound of it spoken, is
+fraught for me with most actual magic.
+
+And on that moonlit night when I floated among the vapours of these
+meadows, myself less than a vapour, I knew and loved Oxford as never
+before, as never since. Yonder, in the Colleges, was the fume and fret
+of tragedy--Love as Death's decoy, and Youth following her. What then?
+Not Oxford was menaced. Come what might, not a stone of Oxford's walls
+would be loosened, nor a wreath of her vapours be undone, nor lost a
+breath of her sacred spirit.
+
+I floated up into the higher, drier air, that I might, for once, see
+the total body of that spirit.
+
+There lay Oxford far beneath me, like a map in grey and black and
+silver. All that I had known only as great single things I saw now
+outspread in apposition, and tiny; tiny symbols, as it were, of
+themselves, greatly symbolising their oneness. There they lay, these
+multitudinous and disparate quadrangles, all their rivalries merged in
+the making of a great catholic pattern. And the roofs of the buildings
+around them seemed level with their lawns. No higher the roofs of the
+very towers. Up from their tiny segment of the earth's spinning
+surface they stood negligible beneath infinity. And new, too, quite
+new, in eternity; transient upstarts. I saw Oxford as a place that had
+no more past and no more future than a mining-camp. I smiled down. O
+hoary and unassailable mushroom! . . . But if a man carry his sense of
+proportion far enough, lo! he is back at the point from which he
+started. He knows that eternity, as conceived by him, is but an
+instant in eternity, and infinity but a speck in infinity. How should
+they belittle the things near to him? . . . Oxford was venerable and
+magical, after all, and enduring. Aye, and not because she would
+endure was it the less lamentable that the young lives within her
+walls were like to be taken. My equanimity was gone; and a tear fell
+on Oxford.
+
+And then, as though Oxford herself were speaking up to me, the air
+vibrated with a sweet noise of music. It was the hour of one; the end
+of the Duke's hour of grace. Through the silvery tangle of sounds from
+other clocks I floated quickly down to the Broad.
+
+
+XIII
+
+I had on the way a horrible apprehension. What if the Duke, in his
+agony, had taken the one means to forgetfulness? His room, I could
+see, was lit up; but a man does not necessarily choose to die in the
+dark. I hovered, afraid, over the dome of the Sheldonian. I saw that
+the window of the room above the Duke's was also lit up. And there was
+no reason at all to doubt the survival of Noaks. Perhaps the sight of
+him would hearten me.
+
+I was wrong. The sight of Noaks in his room was as dismal a thing as
+could be. With his chin sunk on his breast, he sat there, on a rickety
+chair, staring up at the mantel-piece. This he had decked out as a
+sort of shrine. In the centre, aloft on an inverted tin that had
+contained Abernethy biscuits, stood a blue plush frame, with an inner
+rim of brass, several sizes too big for the picture-postcard installed
+in it. Zuleika's image gazed forth with a smile that was obviously not
+intended for the humble worshipper at this execrable shrine. On either
+side of her stood a small vase, one holding some geraniums, the other
+some mignonette. And just beneath her was placed that iron ring which,
+rightly or wrongly, Noaks supposed to alleviate rheumatism--that same
+iron ring which, by her touch to-night, had been charged for him with
+a yet deeper magic, insomuch that he dared no longer wear it, and had
+set it before her as an oblation.
+
+Yet, for all his humility, he was possessed by a spirit of egoism that
+repelled me. While he sat peering over his spectacles at the beauteous
+image, he said again and again to himself, in a hollow voice, "I am so
+young to die." Every time he said this, two large, pear-shaped tears
+emerged from behind his spectacles, and found their way to his
+waistcoat. It did not seem to strike him that quite half of the
+undergraduates who contemplated death--and contemplated it in a
+fearless, wholesome, manly fashion--were his juniors. It seemed to
+seem to him that his own death, even though all those other far
+brighter and more promising lives than his were to be sacrificed, was
+a thing to bother about. Well, if he did not want to die, why could he
+not have, at least, the courage of his cowardice? The world would not
+cease to revolve because Noaks still clung to its surface. For me the
+whole tragedy was cheapened by his participation in it. I was fain to
+leave him. His squint, his short legs dangling towards the floor, his
+tear-sodden waistcoat, and his refrain "I am so young to die," were
+beyond measure exasperating. Yet I hesitated to pass into the room
+beneath, for fear of what I might see there.
+
+How long I might have paltered, had no sound come from that room, I
+know not. But a sound came, sharp and sudden in the night, instantly
+reassuring. I swept down into the presence of the Duke.
+
+He stood with his head flung back and his arms folded, gorgeous in a
+dressing-gown of crimson brocade. In animation of pride and pomp, he
+looked less like a mortal man than like a figure from some great
+biblical group by Paul Veronese.
+
+And this was he whom I had presumed to pity! And this was he whom I
+had half expected to find dead.
+
+His face, usually pale, was now red; and his hair, which no eye had
+ever yet seen disordered, stood up in a glistening shock. These two
+changes in him intensified the effect of vitality. One of them,
+however, vanished as I watched it. The Duke's face resumed its
+pallor. I realised then that he had but blushed; and I realised,
+simultaneously, that what had called that blush to his cheek was what
+had also been the signal to me that he was alive. His blush had been
+a pendant to his sneeze. And his sneeze had been a pendant to that
+outrage which he had been striving to forget. He had caught cold.
+
+He had caught cold. In the hour of his soul's bitter need, his body
+had been suborned against him. Base! Had he not stripped his body of
+its wet vesture? Had he not vigorously dried his hair, and robed
+himself in crimson, and struck in solitude such attitudes as were most
+congruous with his high spirit and high rank? He had set himself to
+crush remembrance of that by which through his body his soul had been
+assailed. And well had he known that in this conflict a giant demon
+was his antagonist. But that his own body would play traitor--no, this
+he had not foreseen. This was too base a thing to be foreseen.
+
+He stood quite still, a figure orgulous and splendent. And it seemed
+as though the hot night, too, stood still, to watch him, in awe,
+through the open lattices of his window, breathlessly. But to me,
+equipped to see beneath the surface, he was piteous, piteous in ratio
+to the pretension of his aspect. Had he crouched down and sobbed, I
+should have been as much relieved as he. But he stood seignorial and
+aquiline.
+
+Painless, by comparison with this conflict in him, seemed the
+conflict that had raged in him yesternight. Then, it had been his
+dandihood against his passion for Zuleika. What mattered the issue?
+Whichever won, the victory were sweet. And of this he had all the
+while been subconscious, gallantly though he fought for his pride of
+dandihood. To-night in the battle between pride and memory, he knew
+from the outset that pride's was but a forlorn hope, and that memory
+would be barbarous in her triumph. Not winning to oblivion, he must
+hate with a fathomless hatred. Of all the emotions, hatred is the most
+excruciating. Of all the objects of hatred, a woman once loved is the
+most hateful. Of all deaths, the bitterest that can befall a man is
+that he lay down his life to flatter the woman he deems vilest of her
+sex.
+
+Such was the death that the Duke of Dorset saw confronting him. Most
+men, when they are at war with the past, have the future as ally.
+Looking steadfastly forward, they can forget. The Duke's future was
+openly in league with his past. For him, prospect was memory. All that
+there was for him of future was the death to which his honour was
+pledged. To envisage that was to . . . no, he would NOT envisage it!
+With a passionate effort he hypnotised himself to think of nothing at
+all. His brain, into which, by the power Zeus gave me, I was gazing,
+became a perfect vacuum, insulated by the will. It was the kind of
+experiment which scientists call "beautiful." And yes, beautiful it
+was.
+
+But not in the eyes of Nature. She abhors a vacuum. Seeing the
+enormous odds against which the Duke was fighting, she might well have
+stood aside. But she has no sense of sport whatsoever. She stepped in.
+
+At first I did not realise what was happening. I saw the Duke's eyes
+contract, and the muscles of his mouth drawn down, and, at the same
+time, a tense upward movement of his whole body. Then, suddenly, the
+strain undone: a downward dart of the head, a loud percussion. Thrice
+the Duke sneezed, with a sound that was as the bursting of the dams of
+body and soul together; then sneezed again.
+
+Now was his will broken. He capitulated. In rushed shame and horror
+and hatred, pell-mell, to ravage him.
+
+What care now, what use, for deportment? He walked coweringly round
+and round his room, with frantic gestures, with head bowed. He
+shuffled and slunk. His dressing-gown had the look of a gabardine.
+
+Shame and horror and hatred went slashing and hewing throughout the
+fallen citadel. At length, exhausted, he flung himself down on the
+window-seat and leaned out into the night, panting. The air was full
+of thunder. He clutched at his throat. From the depths of the black
+caverns beneath their brows the eyes of the unsleeping Emperors
+watched him.
+
+He had gone through much in the day that was past. He had loved and
+lost. He had striven to recapture, and had failed. In a strange
+resolve he had found serenity and joy. He had been at the point of
+death, and had been saved. He had seen that his beloved was worthless,
+and he had not cared. He had fought for her, and conquered; and had
+pled with her, and--all these memories were loathsome by reason of
+that final thing which had all the while lain in wait for him.
+
+He looked back and saw himself as he had been at a score of crucial
+moments in the day--always in the shadow of that final thing. He saw
+himself as he had been on the playing-fields of Eton; aye! and in the
+arms of his nurse, to and fro on the terrace of Tankerton--always in
+the shadow of that final thing, always piteous and ludicrous, doomed.
+Thank heaven the future was unknowable? It wasn't, now. To-morrow--
+to-day--he must die for that accursed fiend of a woman--the woman with
+the hyena laugh.
+
+What to do meanwhile? Impossible to sleep. He felt in his body the
+strain of his quick sequence of spiritual adventures. He was dog-
+tired. But his brain was furiously out of hand: no stopping it. And
+the night was stifling. And all the while, in the dead silence, as
+though his soul had ears, there was a sound. It was a very faint,
+unearthly sound, and seemed to come from nowhere, yet to have a
+meaning. He feared he was rather over-wrought.
+
+He must express himself. That would soothe him. Ever since childhood
+he had had, from time to time, the impulse to set down in writing his
+thoughts or his moods. In such exercises he had found for his self-
+consciousness the vent which natures less reserved than his find in
+casual talk with Tom, Dick and Harry, with Jane, Susan, and Liz. Aloof
+from either of these triads, he had in his first term at Eton taken to
+himself as confidant, and retained ever since, a great quarto volume,
+bound in red morocco and stamped with his coronet and cypher. It was
+herein, year by year, that his soul spread itself.
+
+He wrote mostly in English prose; but other modes were not infrequent.
+Whenever he was abroad, it was his courteous habit to write in the
+language of the country where he was residing--French, when he was in
+his house on the Champs Elysees; Italian, when he was in his villa at
+Baiae; and so on. When he was in his own country he felt himself free
+to deviate sometimes from the vernacular into whatever language were
+aptest to his frame of mind. In his sterner moods he gravitated to
+Latin, and wrought the noble iron of that language to effects that
+were, if anything, a trifle over-impressive. He found for his highest
+flights of contemplation a handy vehicle in Sanscrit. In hours of mere
+joy it was Greek poetry that flowed likeliest from his pen; and he had
+a special fondness for the metre of Alcaeus.
+
+And now, too, in his darkest hour, it was Greek that surged in him--
+iambics of thunderous wrath such as those which are volleyed by
+Prometheus. But as he sat down to his writing-table, and unlocked the
+dear old album, and dipped his pen in the ink, a great calm fell on
+him. The iambics in him began to breathe such sweetness as is on the
+lips of Alcestis going to her doom. But, just as he set pen to paper,
+his hand faltered, and he sprang up, victim of another and yet more
+violent fit of sneezing.
+
+Disbuskined, dangerous. The spirit of Juvenal woke in him. He would
+flay. He would make Woman (as he called Zuleika) writhe. Latin
+hexameters, of course. An epistle to his heir presumptive . . . "Vae
+tibi," he began,
+
+     "Vae tibi, vae misero, nisi circumspexeris artes
+     Femineas, nam nulla salus quin femina possit
+     Tradere, nulla fides quin"--
+
+"Quin," he repeated. In writing soliloquies, his trouble was to curb
+inspiration. The thought that he was addressing his heir-presumptive--
+now heir-only-too-apparent--gave him pause. Nor, he reflected, was he
+addressing this brute only, but a huge posthumous audience. These
+hexameters would be sure to appear in the "authorised" biography. "A
+melancholy interest attaches to the following lines, written, it would
+seem, on the very eve of" . . . He winced. Was it really possible, and
+no dream, that he was to die to-morrow--to-day?
+
+Even you, unassuming reader, go about with a vague notion that in your
+case, somehow, the ultimate demand of nature will be waived. The Duke,
+until he conceived his sudden desire to die, had deemed himself
+certainly exempt. And now, as he sat staring at his window, he saw in
+the paling of the night the presage of the dawn of his own last day.
+Sometimes (orphaned though he was in early childhood) he had even
+found it hard to believe there was no exemption for those to whom he
+stood in any personal relation. He remembered how, soon after he went
+to Eton, he had received almost with incredulity the news of the death
+of his god-father, Lord Stackley, an octogenarian. . . . He took from
+the table his album, knowing that on one of the earliest pages was
+inscribed his boyish sense of that bereavement. Yes, here the passage
+was, written in a large round hand:
+
+
+"Death knocks, as we know, at the door of the cottage and of the
+castle. He stalks up the front-garden and the steep steps of the
+semi-detached villa, and plies the ornamental knocker so imperiously
+that the panels of imitation stained glass quiver in the thin front-
+door. Even the family that occupies the topmost story of a building
+without a lift is on his ghastly visiting-list. He rattles his
+fleshless knuckles against the door of the gypsy's caravan. Into
+the savage's tent, wigwam, or wattled hut, he darts unbidden. Even on
+the hermit in the cave he forces his obnoxious presence. His is an
+universal beat, and he walks it with a grin. But be sure it is at the
+sombre portal of the nobleman that he knocks with the greatest gusto.
+It is there, where haply his visit will be commemorated with a
+hatchment; it is then, when the muffled thunder of the Dead March
+in 'Saul' will soon be rolling in cathedrals; it is then, it is there,
+that the pride of his unquestioned power comes grimliest home to him.
+Is there no withstanding him? Why should he be admitted always with
+awe, a cravenly-honoured guest? When next he calls, let the butler
+send him about his business, or tell him to step round to the
+servants' entrance. If it be made plain to him that his visits
+are an impertinence, he will soon be disemboldened. Once the
+aristocracy make a stand against him, there need be no more trouble
+about the exorbitant Duties named after him. And for the hereditary
+system--that system which both offends the common sense of the
+Radical, and wounds the Tory by its implied admission that noblemen
+are mortal--a seemly substitute will have been found."
+
+
+Artless and crude in expression, very boyish, it seemed now to its
+author. Yet, in its simple wistfulness, it had quality: it rang true.
+The Duke wondered whether, with all that he had since mastered in the
+great art of English prose, he had not lost something, too.
+
+"Is there no withstanding him?" To think that the boy who uttered that
+cry, and gave back so brave an answer, was within nine years to go
+seek death of his own accord! How the gods must be laughing! Yes, the
+exquisite point of the joke, for them, was that he CHOSE to die.
+But--and, as the thought flashed through him, he started like a man
+shot--what if he chose not to? Stay, surely there was some reason why
+he MUST die. Else, why throughout the night had he taken his doom for
+granted? . . . Honour: yes, he had pledged himself. Better death than
+dishonour. Was it, though? was it? Ah, he, who had come so near to
+death, saw dishonour as a tiny trifle. Where was the sting of it? Not
+he would be ridiculous to-morrow--to-day. Every one would acclaim his
+splendid act of moral courage. She, she, the hyena woman, would be the
+fool. No one would have thought of dying for her, had he not set the
+example. Every one would follow his new example. Yes, he would save
+Oxford yet. That was his duty. Duty and darling vengeance! And life--
+life!
+
+It was full dawn now. Gone was that faint, monotonous sound which had
+punctuated in his soul the horrors of his vigil. But, in reminder of
+those hours, his lamp was still burning. He extinguished it; and the
+going-out of that tarnished light made perfect his sense of release.
+
+He threw wide his arms in welcome of the great adorable day, and of
+all the great adorable days that were to be his.
+
+He leaned out from his window, drinking the dawn in. The gods had made
+merry over him, had they? And the cry of the hyena had made night
+hideous. Well, it was his turn now. He would laugh last and loudest.
+
+And already, for what was to be, he laughed outright into the morning;
+insomuch that the birds in the trees of Trinity, and still more the
+Emperors over the way, marvelled greatly.
+
+
+XIV
+
+They had awaited thousands and innumerable thousands of daybreaks in
+the Broad, these Emperors, counting the long slow hours till the night
+were over. It is in the night especially that their fallen greatness
+haunts them. Day brings some distraction. They are not incurious of
+the lives around them--these little lives that succeed one another so
+quickly. To them, in their immemorial old age, youth is a constant
+wonder. And so is death, which to them comes not. Youth or death--
+which, they had often asked themselves, was the goodlier? But it was
+ill that these two things should be mated. It was ill-come, this day
+of days.
+
+Long after the Duke was in bed and asleep, his peal of laughter echoed
+in the ears of the Emperors. Why had he laughed?
+
+And they said to themselves "We are very old men, and broken, and in a
+land not our own. There are things that we do not understand."
+
+Brief was the freshness of the dawn. From all points of the compass,
+dark grey clouds mounted into the sky. There, taking their places as
+though in accordance to a strategic plan laid down for them, they
+ponderously massed themselves, and presently, as at a given signal,
+drew nearer to earth, and halted, an irresistible great army, awaiting
+orders.
+
+Somewhere under cover of them the sun went his way, transmitting a
+sulphurous heat. The very birds in the trees of Trinity were oppressed
+and did not twitter. The very leaves did not whisper.
+
+Out through the railings, and across the road, prowled a skimpy and
+dingy cat, trying to look like a tiger.
+
+It was all very sinister and dismal.
+
+The hours passed. The Broad put forth, one by one, its signs of
+waking.
+
+Soon after eight o'clock, as usual, the front-door of the Duke's
+lodgings was opened from within. The Emperors watched for the faint
+cloud of dust that presently emerged, and for her whom it preceded. To
+them, this first outcoming of the landlady's daughter was a moment of
+daily interest. Katie!--they had known her as a toddling child; and
+later as a little girl scampering off to school, all legs and pinafore
+and streaming golden hair. And now she was sixteen years old. Her
+hair, tied back at the nape of her neck, would very soon be "up." Her
+big blue eyes were as they had always been; but she had long passed
+out of pinafores into aprons, had taken on a sedateness befitting her
+years and her duties, and was anxious to be regarded rather as an aunt
+than as a sister by her brother Clarence, aged twelve. The Emperors
+had always predicted that she would be pretty. And very pretty she
+was.
+
+As she came slowly out, with eyes downcast to her broom, sweeping the
+dust so seriously over the doorstep and then across the pavement, and
+anon when she reappeared with pail and scrubbing-brush, and abased
+herself before the doorstep, and wrought so vehemently there, what
+filled her little soul was not the dignity of manual labour. The
+duties that Zuleika had envied her were dear to her exactly as they
+would have been, yesterday morning, to Zuleika. The Emperors had
+often noticed that during vacations their little favourite's treatment
+of the doorstep was languid and perfunctory. They knew well her
+secret, and always (for who can be long in England without becoming
+sentimental?) they cherished the hope of a romantic union between her
+and "a certain young gentleman," as they archly called the Duke. His
+continued indifference to her they took almost as an affront to
+themselves. Where in all England was a prettier, sweeter girl than
+their Katie? The sudden irruption of Zuleika into Oxford was
+especially grievous to them because they could no longer hope
+against hope that Katie would be led by the Duke to the altar, and
+thence into the highest social circles, and live happily ever after.
+Luckily it was for Katie, however, that they had no power to fill her
+head with their foolish notions. It was well for her to have never
+doubted she loved in vain. She had soon grown used to her lot. Not
+until yesterday had there been any bitterness. Jealousy surged in
+Katie at the very moment when she beheld Zuleika on the threshold.
+A glance at the Duke's face when she showed the visitor up was enough
+to acquaint her with the state of his heart. And she did not, for
+confirming her intuition, need the two or three opportunities she
+took of listening at the keyhole. What in the course of those informal
+audiences did surprise her--so much indeed that she could hardly
+believe her ear--was that it was possible for a woman not to love the
+Duke. Her jealousy of "that Miss Dobson" was for a while swallowed up
+in her pity for him. What she had borne so cheerfully for herself she
+could not bear for her hero. She wished she had not happened to
+listen.
+
+And this morning, while she knelt swaying and spreading over "his"
+doorstep, her blue eyes added certain tears to be scrubbed away in the
+general moisture of the stone. Rising, she dried her hands in her
+apron, and dried her eyes with her hands. Lest her mother should see
+that she had been crying, she loitered outside the door. Suddenly, her
+roving glance changed to a stare of acute hostility. She knew well
+that the person wandering towards her was--no, not "that Miss Dobson,"
+as she had for the fraction of an instant supposed, but the next worst
+thing.
+
+It has been said that Melisande indoors was an evidently French maid.
+Out of doors she was not less evidently Zuleika's. Not that she aped
+her mistress. The resemblance had come by force of propinquity and
+devotion. Nature had laid no basis for it. Not one point of form or
+colour had the two women in common. It has been said that Zuleika was
+not strictly beautiful. Melisande, like most Frenchwomen, was strictly
+plain. But in expression and port, in her whole tournure, she had
+become, as every good maid does, her mistress' replica. The poise of
+her head, the boldness of her regard and brilliance of her smile,
+the leisurely and swinging way in which she walked, with a hand on
+the hip--all these things of hers were Zuleika's too. She was no
+conqueror. None but the man to whom she was betrothed--a waiter at
+the Cafe Tourtel, named Pelleas--had ever paid court to her; nor
+was she covetous of other hearts. Yet she looked victorious, and
+insatiable of victories, and "terrible as an army with banners."
+
+In the hand that was not on her hip she carried a letter. And on her
+shoulders she had to bear the full burden of the hatred that Zuleika
+had inspired in Katie. But this she did not know. She came glancing
+boldly, leisurely, at the numbers on the front-doors.
+
+Katie stepped back on to the doorstep, lest the inferiority of her
+stature should mar the effect of her disdain.
+
+"Good-day. Is it here that Duke D'Orsay lives?" asked Melisande, as
+nearly accurate as a Gaul may be in such matters.
+
+"The Duke of Dorset," said Katie with a cold and insular emphasis,
+"lives here." And "You," she tried to convey with her eyes, "you, for
+all your smart black silk, are a hireling. I am Miss Batch. I happen
+to have a hobby for housework. I have not been crying."
+
+"Then please mount this to him at once," said Melisande, holding out
+the letter. "It is from Miss Dobson's part. Very express. I wait
+response."
+
+"You are very ugly," Katie signalled with her eyes. "I am very pretty.
+I have the Oxfordshire complexion. And I play the piano." With her
+lips she said merely, "His Grace is not called before nine o'clock."
+
+"But to-day you go wake him now--quick--is it not?"
+
+"Quite out of the question," said Katie. "If you care to leave that
+letter here, I will see that it is placed on his Grace's breakfast-
+table, with the morning's post." "For the rest," added her eyes, "Down
+with France!"
+
+"I find you droll, but droll, my little one!" cried Melisande.
+
+Katie stepped back and shut the door in her face. "Like a little
+Empress," the Emperors commented.
+
+The Frenchwoman threw up her hands and apostrophised heaven. To this
+day she believes that all the bonnes of Oxford are mad, but mad, and
+of a madness.
+
+She stared at the door, at the pail and scrubbing-brush that had been
+shut out with her, at the letter in her hand. She decided that she had
+better drop the letter into the slit in the door and make report to
+Miss Dobson.
+
+As the envelope fell through the slit to the door-mat, Katie made at
+Melisande a grimace which, had not the panels been opaque, would have
+astonished the Emperors. Resuming her dignity, she picked the thing
+up, and, at arm's length, examined it. It was inscribed in pencil.
+Katie's lips curled at sight of the large, audacious handwriting. But
+it is probable that whatever kind of handwriting Zuleika might have
+had would have been just the kind that Katie would have expected.
+
+Fingering the envelope, she wondered what the wretched woman had to
+say. It occurred to her that the kettle was simmering on the hob in
+the kitchen, and that she might easily steam open the envelope and
+master its contents. However, her doing this would have in no way
+affected the course of the tragedy. And so the gods (being to-day in a
+strictly artistic mood) prompted her to mind her own business.
+
+Laying the Duke's table for breakfast, she made as usual a neat
+rectangular pile of the letters that had come for him by post.
+Zuleika's letter she threw down askew. That luxury she allowed
+herself.
+
+And he, when he saw the letter, allowed himself the luxury of leaving
+it unopened awhile. Whatever its purport, he knew it could but
+minister to his happy malice. A few hours ago, with what shame and
+dread it would have stricken him! Now it was a dainty to be dallied
+with.
+
+His eyes rested on the black tin boxes that contained his robes of the
+Garter. Hateful had been the sight of them in the watches of the
+night, when he thought he had worn those robes for the last time. But
+now--!
+
+He opened Zuleika's letter. It did not disappoint him.
+
+
+"DEAR DUKE,--DO, DO forgive me. I am beyond words ashamed of the silly
+tomboyish thing I did last night. Of course it was no worse than that,
+but an awful fear haunts me that you MAY have thought I acted in anger
+at the idea of your breaking your promise to me. Well, it is quite
+true I had been hurt and angry when you hinted at doing that, but the
+moment I left you I saw that you had been only in fun, and I enjoyed
+the joke against myself, though I thought it was rather too bad of
+you. And then, as a sort of revenge, but almost before I knew what I
+was doing, I played that IDIOTIC practical joke on you. I have been
+MISERABLE ever since. DO come round as early as possible and tell me I
+am forgiven. But before you tell me that, please lecture me till I
+cry--though indeed I have been crying half through the night. And then
+if you want to be VERY horrid you may tease me for being so slow to
+see a joke. And then you might take me to see some of the Colleges and
+things before we go on to lunch at The MacQuern's? Forgive pencil and
+scrawl. Am sitting up in bed to write.-- Your sincere friend,
+                                                               "Z. D.
+"P.S.--Please burn this."
+
+
+At that final injunction, the Duke abandoned himself to his mirth.
+"Please burn this." Poor dear young woman, how modest she was in the
+glare of her diplomacy! Why there was nothing, not one phrase, to
+compromise her in the eyes of a coroner's jury! . . . Seriously, she
+had good reason to be proud of her letter. For the purpose in view it
+couldn't have been better done. That was what made it so touchingly
+absurd. He put himself in her position. He pictured himself as her,
+"sitting up in bed," pencil in hand, to explain away, to soothe, to
+clinch and bind . . . Yes, if he had happened to be some other man--
+one whom her insult might have angered without giving love its
+death-blow, and one who could be frightened out of not keeping his
+word--this letter would have been capital.
+
+He helped himself to some more marmalade, and poured out another cup
+of coffee. Nothing is more thrilling, thought he, than to be treated
+as a cully by the person you hold in the hollow of your hand.
+
+But within this great irony lay (to be glided over) another irony. He
+knew well in what mood Zuleika had done what she had done to him last
+night; yet he preferred to accept her explanation of it.
+
+Officially, then, he acquitted her of anything worse than
+tomboyishness. But this verdict for his own convenience implied
+no mercy to the culprit. The sole point for him was how to administer
+her punishment the most poignantly. Just how should he word his
+letter?
+
+He rose from his chair, and "Dear Miss Dobson--no, MY dear Miss
+Dobson," he murmured, pacing the room, "I am so very sorry I cannot
+come to see you: I have to attend two lectures this morning. By
+contrast with this weariness, it will be the more delightful to meet
+you at The MacQuern's. I want to see as much as I can of you to-day,
+because to-night there is the Bump Supper, and to-morrow morning,
+alas! I must motor to Windsor for this wretched Investiture.
+Meanwhile, how can you ask to be forgiven when there is nothing
+whatever to forgive? It seems to me that mine, not yours, is the form
+of humour that needs explanation. My proposal to die for you was made
+in as playful a spirit as my proposal to marry you. And it is really
+for me to ask forgiveness of you. One thing especially," he murmured,
+fingering in his waistcoat-pocket the ear-rings she had given him,
+"pricks my conscience. I do feel that I ought not to have let you
+give me these two pearls--at any rate, not the one which went into
+premature mourning for me. As I have no means of deciding which of the
+two this one is, I enclose them both, with the hope that the pretty
+difference between them will in time reappear" . . . Or words to that
+effect . . . Stay! why not add to the joy of contriving that effect
+the greater joy of watching it? Why send Zuleika a letter? He would
+obey her summons. He would speed to her side. He snatched up a hat.
+
+In this haste, however, he detected a certain lack of dignity. He
+steadied himself, and went slowly to the mirror. There he adjusted his
+hat with care, and regarded himself very seriously, very sternly, from
+various angles, like a man invited to paint his own portrait for the
+Uffizi. He must be worthy of himself. It was well that Zuleika should
+be chastened. Great was her sin. Out of life and death she had
+fashioned toys for her vanity. But his joy must be in vindication of
+what was noble, not in making suffer what was vile. Yesterday he had
+been her puppet, her Jumping-Jack; to-day it was as avenging angel
+that he would appear before her. The gods had mocked him who was now
+their minister. Their minister? Their master, as being once more
+master of himself. It was they who had plotted his undoing. Because
+they loved him they were fain that he should die young. The Dobson
+woman was but their agent, their cat's-paw. By her they had all but
+got him. Not quite! And now, to teach them, through her, a lesson they
+would not soon forget, he would go forth.
+
+Shaking with laughter, the gods leaned over the thunder-clouds to
+watch him.
+
+He went forth.
+
+On the well-whitened doorstep he was confronted by a small boy in
+uniform bearing a telegram.
+
+"Duke of Dorset?" asked the small boy.
+
+Opening the envelope, the Duke saw that the message, with which was a
+prepaid form for reply, had been handed in at the Tankerton post-
+office. It ran thus:
+
+
+     Deeply regret inform your grace last night
+     two black owls came and perched on battlements
+     remained there through night hooting
+     at dawn flew away none knows whither
+     awaiting instructions            Jellings
+
+
+The Duke's face, though it grew white, moved not one muscle.
+
+Somewhat shamed now, the gods ceased from laughing.
+
+The Duke looked from the telegram to the boy. "Have you a pencil?" he
+asked.
+
+"Yes, my Lord," said the boy, producing a stump of pencil.
+
+Holding the prepaid form against the door, the Duke wrote:
+
+
+     Jellings Tankerton Hall
+     Prepare vault for funeral Monday
+
+                              Dorset
+
+
+His handwriting was as firmly and minutely beautiful as ever. Only in
+that he forgot there was nothing to pay did he belie his calm. "Here,"
+he said to the boy, "is a shilling; and you may keep the change."
+
+"Thank you, my Lord," said the boy, and went his way, as happy as a
+postman.
+
+
+XV
+
+Humphrey Greddon, in the Duke's place, would have taken a pinch of
+snuff. But he could not have made that gesture with a finer air than
+the Duke gave to its modern equivalent. In the art of taking and
+lighting a cigarette, there was one man who had no rival in Europe.
+This time he outdid even himself.
+
+"Ah," you say, "but 'pluck' is one thing, endurance another. A man who
+doesn't reel on receipt of his death-warrant may yet break down when
+he has had time to think it over. How did the Duke acquit himself when
+he came to the end of his cigarette? And by the way, how was it that
+after he had read the telegram you didn't give him again an hour's
+grace?"
+
+In a way, you have a perfect right to ask both those questions. But
+their very pertinence shows that you think I might omit things that
+matter. Please don't interrupt me again. Am _I_ writing this history,
+or are you?
+
+Though the news that he must die was a yet sharper douche, as you have
+suggested, than the douche inflicted by Zuleika, it did at least leave
+unscathed the Duke's pride. The gods can make a man ridiculous through
+a woman, but they cannot make him ridiculous when they deal him a blow
+direct. The very greatness of their power makes them, in that respect,
+impotent. They had decreed that the Duke should die, and they had told
+him so. There was nothing to demean him in that. True, he had just
+measured himself against them. But there was no shame in being
+gravelled. The peripety was according to the best rules of tragic
+art. The whole thing was in the grand manner.
+
+Thus I felt that there were no indelicacy, this time, in watching
+him. Just as "pluck" comes of breeding, so is endurance especially
+an attribute of the artist. Because he can stand outside himself,
+and (if there be nothing ignoble in them) take a pleasure in his own
+sufferings, the artist has a huge advantage over you and me. The Duke,
+so soon as Zuleika's spell was broken, had become himself again--a
+highly self-conscious artist in life. And now, standing pensive on the
+doorstep, he was almost enviable in his great affliction.
+
+Through the wreaths of smoke which, as they came from his lips, hung
+in the sultry air as they would have hung in a closed room, he gazed
+up at the steadfast thunder-clouds. How nobly they had been massed
+for him! One of them, a particularly large and dark one, might with
+advantage, he thought, have been placed a little further to the left.
+He made a gesture to that effect. Instantly the cloud rolled into
+position. The gods were painfully anxious, now, to humour him in
+trifles. His behaviour in the great emergency had so impressed them
+at a distance that they rather dreaded meeting him anon at close
+quarters. They rather wished they had not uncaged, last night, the
+two black owls. Too late. What they had done they had done.
+
+That faint monotonous sound in the stillness of the night--the Duke
+remembered it now. What he had thought to be only his fancy had been
+his death-knell, wafted to him along uncharted waves of ether, from
+the battlements of Tankerton. It had ceased at daybreak. He wondered
+now that he had not guessed its meaning. And he was glad that he had
+not. He was thankful for the peace that had been granted to him, the
+joyous arrogance in which he had gone to bed and got up for breakfast.
+He valued these mercies the more for the great tragic irony that came
+of them. Aye, and he was inclined to blame the gods for not having
+kept him still longer in the dark and so made the irony still more
+awful. Why had they not caused the telegram to be delayed in
+transmission? They ought to have let him go and riddle Zuleika with
+his scorn and his indifference. They ought to have let him hurl
+through her his defiance of them. Art aside, they need not have
+grudged him that excursion.
+
+He could not, he told himself, face Zuleika now. As artist, he saw
+that there was irony enough left over to make the meeting a fine one.
+As theologian, he did not hold her responsible for his destiny. But as
+a man, after what she had done to him last night, and before what he
+had to do for her to-day, he would not go out of his way to meet her.
+Of course, he would not actually avoid her. To seem to run away from
+her were beneath his dignity. But, if he did meet her, what in
+heaven's name should he say to her? He remembered his promise to
+lunch with The MacQuern, and shuddered. She would be there. Death,
+as he had said, cancelled all engagements. A very simple way out of
+the difficulty would be to go straight to the river. No, that would
+be like running away. It couldn't be done.
+
+Hardly had he rejected the notion when he had a glimpse of a female
+figure coming quickly round the corner--a glimpse that sent him
+walking quickly away, across the road, towards Turl Street, blushing
+violently. Had she seen him? he asked himself. And had she seen that
+he saw her? He heard her running after him. He did not look round, he
+quickened his pace. She was gaining on him. Involuntarily, he ran--ran
+like a hare, and, at the corner of Turl Street, rose like a trout, saw
+the pavement rise at him, and fell, with a bang, prone.
+
+Let it be said at once that in this matter the gods were absolutely
+blameless. It is true they had decreed that a piece of orange-peel
+should be thrown down this morning at the corner of Turl Street. But
+the Master of Balliol, not the Duke, was the person they had destined
+to slip on it. You must not imagine that they think out and appoint
+everything that is to befall us, down to the smallest detail.
+Generally, they just draw a sort of broad outline, and leave us to
+fill it in according to our taste. Thus, in the matters of which this
+book is record, it was they who made the Warden invite his grand-
+daughter to Oxford, and invite the Duke to meet her on the evening of
+her arrival. And it was they who prompted the Duke to die for her on
+the following (Tuesday) afternoon. They had intended that he should
+execute his resolve after, or before, the boat-race of that evening.
+But an oversight upset this plan. They had forgotten on Monday night
+to uncage the two black owls; and so it was necessary that the Duke's
+death should be postponed. They accordingly prompted Zuleika to save
+him. For the rest, they let the tragedy run its own course--merely
+putting in a felicitous touch here and there, or vetoing a
+superfluity, such as that Katie should open Zuleika's letter. It was
+no part of their scheme that the Duke should mistake Melisande for her
+mistress, or that he should run away from her, and they were genuinely
+sorry when he, instead of the Master of Balliol, came to grief over
+the orange-peel.
+
+Them, however, the Duke cursed as he fell; them again as he raised
+himself on one elbow, giddy and sore; and when he found that the woman
+bending over him was not she whom he dreaded, but her innocent maid,
+it was against them that he almost foamed at the mouth.
+
+"Monsieur le Duc has done himself harm--no?" panted Melisande. "Here
+is a letter from Miss Dobson's part. She say to me 'Give it him with
+your own hand.'"
+
+The Duke received the letter and, sitting upright, tore it to shreds,
+thus confirming a suspicion which Melisande had conceived at the
+moment when he took to his heels, that all English noblemen are mad,
+but mad, and of a madness.
+
+"Nom de Dieu," she cried, wringing her hands, "what shall I tell to
+Mademoiselle?"
+
+"Tell her--" the Duke choked back a phrase of which the memory would
+have shamed his last hours. "Tell her," he substituted, "that you have
+seen Marius sitting among the ruins of Carthage," and limped quickly
+away down the Turl.
+
+Both his hands had been abraded by the fall. He tended them angrily
+with his handkerchief. Mr. Druce, the chemist, had anon the privilege
+of bathing and plastering them, also of balming and binding the right
+knee and the left shin. "Might have been a very nasty accident, your
+Grace," he said. "It was," said the Duke. Mr. Druce concurred.
+
+Nevertheless, Mr. Druce's remark sank deep. The Duke thought it quite
+likely that the gods had intended the accident to be fatal, and that
+only by his own skill and lightness in falling had he escaped the
+ignominy of dying in full flight from a lady's-maid. He had not, you
+see, lost all sense of free-will. While Mr. Druce put the finishing
+touches to his shin, "I am utterly purposed," he said to himself,
+"that for this death of mine I will choose my own manner and my own
+--well, not 'time' exactly, but whatever moment within my brief span
+of life shall seem aptest to me. Unberufen," he added, lightly tapping
+Mr. Druce's counter.
+
+The sight of some bottles of Cold Mixture on that hospitable board
+reminded him of a painful fact. In the clash of the morning's
+excitements, he had hardly felt the gross ailment that was on him. He
+became fully conscious of it now, and there leapt in him a hideous
+doubt: had he escaped a violent death only to succumb to "natural
+causes"? He had never hitherto had anything the matter with him, and
+thus he belonged to the worst, the most apprehensive, class of
+patients. He knew that a cold, were it neglected, might turn
+malignant; and he had a vision of himself gripped suddenly in the
+street by internal agonies--a sympathetic crowd, an ambulance, his
+darkened bedroom; local doctor making hopelessly wrong diagnosis;
+eminent specialists served up hot by special train, commending local
+doctor's treatment, but shaking their heads and refusing to say more
+than "He has youth on his side"; a slight rally at sunset; the end.
+All this flashed through his mind. He quailed. There was not a moment
+to lose. He frankly confessed to Mr. Druce that he had a cold.
+
+Mr. Druce, trying to insinuate by his manner that this fact had not
+been obvious, suggested the Mixture--a teaspoonful every two hours.
+"Give me some now, please, at once," said the Duke.
+
+He felt magically better for the draught. He handled the little glass
+lovingly, and eyed the bottle. "Why not two teaspoonfuls every hour?"
+he suggested, with an eagerness almost dipsomaniacal. But Mr. Druce
+was respectfully firm against that. The Duke yielded. He fancied,
+indeed, that the gods had meant him to die of an overdose.
+
+Still, he had a craving for more. Few though his hours were, he hoped
+the next two would pass quickly. And, though he knew Mr. Druce could
+be trusted to send the bottle round to his rooms immediately, he
+preferred to carry it away with him. He slipped it into the breast-
+pocket of his coat, almost heedless of the slight extrusion it made
+there.
+
+Just as he was about to cross the High again, on his way home, a
+butcher's cart dashed down the slope, recklessly driven. He stepped
+well back on the pavement, and smiled a sardonic smile. He looked to
+right and to left, carefully gauging the traffic. Some time elapsed
+before he deemed the road clear enough for transit.
+
+Safely across, he encountered a figure that seemed to loom up out of
+the dim past. Oover! Was it but yesternight that Oover dined with him?
+With the sensation of a man groping among archives, he began to
+apologise to the Rhodes Scholar for having left him so abruptly at the
+Junta. Then, presto!--as though those musty archives were changed to a
+crisp morning paper agog with terrific head-lines--he remembered the
+awful resolve of Oover, and of all young Oxford.
+
+"Of course," he asked, with a lightness that hardly hid his dread of
+the answer, "you have dismissed the notion you were toying with when I
+left you?"
+
+Oover's face, like his nature, was as sensitive as it was massive, and
+it instantly expressed his pain at the doubt cast on his high
+seriousness. "Duke," he asked, "d'you take me for a skunk?"
+
+"Without pretending to be quite sure what a skunk is," said the Duke,
+"I take you to be all that it isn't. And the high esteem in which I
+hold you is the measure for me of the loss that your death would be to
+America and to Oxford."
+
+Oover blushed. "Duke" he said "that's a bully testimonial. But don't
+worry. America can turn out millions just like me, and Oxford can have
+as many of them as she can hold. On the other hand, how many of YOU
+can be turned out, as per sample, in England? Yet you choose to
+destroy yourself. You avail yourself of the Unwritten Law. And you're
+right, Sir. Love transcends all."
+
+"But does it? What if I told you I had changed my mind?"
+
+"Then, Duke," said Oover, slowly, "I should believe that all those
+yarns I used to hear about the British aristocracy were true, after
+all. I should aver that you were not a white man. Leading us on like
+that, and then--Say, Duke! Are you going to die to-day, or not?"
+
+"As a matter of fact, I am, but--"
+
+"Shake!"
+
+"But--"
+
+Oover wrung the Duke's hand, and was passing on. "Stay!" he was
+adjured.
+
+"Sorry, unable. It's just turning eleven o'clock, and I've a lecture.
+While life lasts, I'm bound to respect Rhodes' intentions." The
+conscientious Scholar hurried away.
+
+The Duke wandered down the High, taking counsel with himself. He was
+ashamed of having so utterly forgotten the mischief he had wrought at
+large. At dawn he had vowed to undo it. Undo it he must. But the task
+was not a simple one now. If he could say "Behold, I take back my
+word. I spurn Miss Dobson, and embrace life," it was possible that his
+example would suffice. But now that he could only say "Behold, I spurn
+Miss Dobson, and will not die for her, but I am going to commit
+suicide, all the same," it was clear that his words would carry very
+little force. Also, he saw with pain that they placed him in a
+somewhat ludicrous position. His end, as designed yesterday, had a
+large and simple grandeur. So had his recantation of it. But this new
+compromise between the two things had a fumbled, a feeble, an ignoble
+look. It seemed to combine all the disadvantages of both courses. It
+stained his honour without prolonging his life. Surely, this was a
+high price to pay for snubbing Zuleika . . . Yes, he must revert
+without more ado to his first scheme. He must die in the manner that
+he had blazoned forth. And he must do it with a good grace, none
+knowing he was not glad; else the action lost all dignity. True, this
+was no way to be a saviour. But only by not dying at all could he have
+set a really potent example. . . . He remembered the look that had
+come into Oover's eyes just now at the notion of his unfaith. Perhaps
+he would have been the mock, not the saviour, of Oxford. Better
+dishonour than death, maybe. But, since die he must, he must die not
+belittling or tarnishing the name of Tanville-Tankerton.
+
+Within these bounds, however, he must put forth his full might to
+avert the general catastrophe--and to punish Zuleika nearly well
+enough, after all, by intercepting that vast nosegay from her
+outstretched hands and her distended nostrils. There was no time
+to be lost, then. But he wondered, as he paced the grand curve
+between St. Mary's and Magdalen Bridge, just how was he to begin?
+
+Down the flight of steps from Queen's came lounging an average
+undergraduate.
+
+"Mr. Smith," said the Duke, "a word with you."
+
+"But my name is not Smith," said the young man.
+
+"Generically it is," replied the Duke. "You are Smith to all intents
+and purposes. That, indeed, is why I address you. In making your
+acquaintance, I make a thousand acquaintances. You are a short cut to
+knowledge. Tell me, do you seriously think of drowning yourself this
+afternoon?"
+
+"Rather," said the undergraduate.
+
+"A meiosis in common use, equivalent to 'Yes, assuredly,'" murmured
+the Duke. "And why," he then asked, "do you mean to do this?"
+
+"Why? How can you ask? Why are YOU going to do it?"
+
+"The Socratic manner is not a game at which two can play. Please
+answer my question, to the best of your ability."
+
+"Well, because I can't live without her. Because I want to prove my
+love for her. Because--"
+
+"One reason at a time please," said the Duke, holding up his hand.
+"You can't live without her? Then I am to assume that you look forward
+to dying?"
+
+"Rather."
+
+"You are truly happy in that prospect?"
+
+"Yes. Rather."
+
+"Now, suppose I showed you two pieces of equally fine amber--a big one
+and a little one. Which of these would you rather possess?"
+
+"The big one, I suppose."
+
+"And this because it is better to have more than to have less of a
+good thing?"
+
+"Just so."
+
+"Do you consider happiness a good thing or a bad one?"
+
+"A good one."
+
+"So that a man would rather have more than less of happiness?"
+
+"Undoubtedly."
+
+"Then does it not seem to you that you would do well to postpone your
+suicide indefinitely?"
+
+"But I have just said I can't live without her."
+
+"You have still more recently declared yourself truly happy."
+
+"Yes, but--"
+
+"Now, be careful, Mr. Smith. Remember, this is a matter of life and
+death. Try to do yourself justice. I have asked you--"
+
+But the undergraduate was walking away, not without a certain dignity.
+
+The Duke felt that he had not handled his man skilfully. He remembered
+that even Socrates, for all the popular charm of his mock-modesty and
+his true geniality, had ceased after a while to be tolerable. Without
+such a manner to grace his method, Socrates would have had a very
+brief time indeed. The Duke recoiled from what he took to be another
+pitfall. He almost smelt hemlock.
+
+A party of four undergraduates abreast was approaching. How should he
+address them? His choice wavered between the evangelic wistfulness of
+"Are you saved?" and the breeziness of the recruiting sergeant's
+"Come, you're fine upstanding young fellows. Isn't it a pity," etc.
+Meanwhile, the quartet had passed by.
+
+Two other undergraduates approached. The Duke asked them simply as a
+personal favour to himself not to throw away their lives. They said
+they were very sorry, but in this particular matter they must please
+themselves. In vain he pled. They admitted that but for his example
+they would never have thought of dying. They wished they could show
+him their gratitude in any way but the one which would rob them of it.
+
+The Duke drifted further down the High, bespeaking every undergraduate
+he met, leaving untried no argument, no inducement. For one man, whose
+name he happened to know, he invented an urgent personal message from
+Miss Dobson imploring him not to die on her account. On another man he
+offered to settle by hasty codicil a sum of money sufficient to yield
+an annual income of two thousand pounds--three thousand--any sum
+within reason. With another he offered to walk, arm in arm, to Carfax
+and back again. All to no avail.
+
+He found himself in the precincts of Magdalen, preaching from the
+little open-air pulpit there an impassioned sermon on the sacredness
+of human life, and referring to Zuleika in terms which John Knox would
+have hesitated to utter. As he piled up the invective, he noticed an
+ominous restiveness in the congregation--murmurs, clenching of hands,
+dark looks. He saw the pulpit as yet another trap laid for him by the
+gods. He had walked straight into it: another moment, and he might be
+dragged down, overwhelmed by numbers, torn limb from limb. All that
+was in him of quelling power he put hastily into his eyes, and
+manoeuvred his tongue to gentler discourse, deprecating his right to
+judge "this lady," and merely pointing the marvel, the awful though
+noble folly, of his resolve. He ended on a note of quiet pathos. "To-
+night I shall be among the shades. There be not you, my brothers."
+
+Good though the sermon was in style and sentiment, the flaw in its
+reasoning was too patent for any converts to be made. As he walked
+out of the quadrangle, the Duke felt the hopelessness of his cause.
+Still he battled bravely for it up the High, waylaying, cajoling,
+commanding, offering vast bribes. He carried his crusade into the
+Loder, and thence into Vincent's, and out into the street again,
+eager, untiring, unavailing: everywhere he found his precept
+checkmated by his example.
+
+The sight of The MacQuern coming out top-speed from the Market, with a
+large but inexpensive bunch of flowers, reminded him of the luncheon
+that was to be. Never to throw over an engagement was for him, as we
+have seen, a point of honour. But this particular engagement--hateful,
+when he accepted it, by reason of his love--was now impossible for the
+reason which had made him take so ignominiously to his heels this
+morning. He curtly told the Scot not to expect him.
+
+"Is SHE not coming?" gasped the Scot, with quick suspicion.
+
+"Oh," said the Duke, turning on his heel, "she doesn't know that I
+shan't be there. You may count on her." This he took to be the very
+truth, and he was glad to have made of it a thrust at the man who had
+so uncouthly asserted himself last night. He could not help smiling,
+though, at this little resentment erect after the cataclysm that had
+swept away all else. Then he smiled to think how uneasy Zuleika would
+be at his absence. What agonies of suspense she must have had all this
+morning! He imagined her silent at the luncheon, with a vacant gaze at
+the door, eating nothing at all. And he became aware that he was
+rather hungry. He had done all he could to save young Oxford. Now for
+some sandwiches! He went into the Junta.
+
+As he rang the dining-room bell, his eyes rested on the miniature of
+Nellie O'Mora. And the eyes of Nellie O'Mora seemed to meet his in
+reproach. Just as she may have gazed at Greddon when he cast her off,
+so now did she gaze at him who a few hours ago had refused to honour
+her memory.
+
+Yes, and many other eyes than hers rebuked him. It was around the
+walls of this room that hung those presentments of the Junta as
+focussed, year after year, in a certain corner of Tom Quad, by Messrs.
+Hills and Saunders. All around, the members of the little hierarchy, a
+hierarchy ever changing in all but youth and a certain sternness of
+aspect that comes at the moment of being immortalised, were gazing
+forth now with a sternness beyond their wont. Not one of them but had
+in his day handed on loyally the praise of Nellie O'Mora, in the form
+their Founder had ordained. And the Duke's revolt last night had so
+incensed them that they would, if they could, have come down from
+their frames and walked straight out of the club, in chronological
+order--first, the men of the 'sixties, almost as near in time to
+Greddon as to the Duke, all so gloriously be-whiskered and cravated,
+but how faded now, alas, by exposure; and last of all in the
+procession and angrier perhaps than any of them, the Duke himself
+--the Duke of a year ago, President and sole Member.
+
+But, as he gazed into the eyes of Nellie O'Mora now, Dorset needed not
+for penitence the reproaches of his past self or of his forerunners.
+"Sweet girl," he murmured, "forgive me. I was mad. I was under the
+sway of a deplorable infatuation. It is past. See," he murmured with a
+delicacy of feeling that justified the untruth, "I am come here for
+the express purpose of undoing my impiety." And, turning to the club-
+waiter who at this moment answered the bell, he said "Bring me a glass
+of port, please, Barrett." Of sandwiches he said nothing.
+
+At the word "See" he had stretched one hand towards Nellie; the other
+he had laid on his heart, where it seemed to encounter some sort of
+hard obstruction. This he vaguely fingered, wondering what it might
+be, while he gave his order to Barrett. With a sudden cry he dipped
+his hand into his breast-pocket and drew forth the bottle he had borne
+away from Mr. Druce's. He snatched out his watch: one o'clock!--
+fifteen minutes overdue. Wildly he called the waiter back. "A tea-
+spoon, quick! No port. A wine-glass and a tea-spoon. And--for I don't
+mind telling you, Barrett, that your mission is of an urgency beyond
+conjecture--take lightning for your model. Go!"
+
+Agitation mastered him. He tried vainly to feel his pulse, well
+knowing that if he found it he could deduce nothing from its action.
+He saw himself haggard in the looking-glass. Would Barrett never come?
+"Every two hours"--the directions were explicit. Had he delivered
+himself into the gods' hands? The eyes of Nellie O'Mora were on him
+compassionately; and all the eyes of his forerunners were on him in
+austere scorn: "See," they seemed to be saying, "the chastisement of
+last night's blasphemy." Violently, insistently, he rang the bell.
+
+In rushed Barrett at last. From the tea-spoon into the wine-glass
+the Duke poured the draught of salvation, and then, raising it
+aloft, he looked around at his fore-runners and in a firm voice cried
+"Gentlemen, I give you Nellie O'Mora, the fairest witch that ever was
+or will be." He drained his glass, heaved the deep sigh of a double
+satisfaction, dismissed with a glance the wondering Barrett, and sat
+down.
+
+He was glad to be able to face Nellie with a clear conscience. Her
+eyes were not less sad now, but it seemed to him that their sadness
+came of a knowledge that she would never see him again. She seemed to
+be saying to him "Had you lived in my day, it is you that I would have
+loved, not Greddon." And he made silent answer, "Had you lived in my
+day, I should have been Dobson-proof." He realised, however, that to
+Zuleika he owed the tenderness he now felt for Miss O'Mora. It was
+Zuleika that had cured him of his aseity. She it was that had made
+his heart a warm and negotiable thing. Yes, and that was the final
+cruelty. To love and be loved--this, he had come to know, was all that
+mattered. Yesterday, to love and die had seemed felicity enough. Now
+he knew that the secret, the open secret, of happiness was in mutual
+love--a state that needed not the fillip of death. And he had to die
+without having ever lived. Admiration, homage, fear, he had sown
+broadcast. The one woman who had loved him had turned to stone because
+he loved her. Death would lose much of its sting for him if there were
+somewhere in the world just one woman, however lowly, whose heart
+would be broken by his dying. What a pity Nellie O'Mora was not really
+extant!
+
+Suddenly he recalled certain words lightly spoken yesterday by
+Zuleika. She had told him he was loved by the girl who waited on
+him--the daughter of his landlady. Was this so? He had seen no sign
+of it, had received no token of it. But, after all, how should he
+have seen a sign of anything in one whom he had never consciously
+visualised? That she had never thrust herself on his notice might mean
+merely that she had been well brought-up. What likelier than that the
+daughter of Mrs. Batch, that worthy soul, had been well brought up?
+
+Here, at any rate, was the chance of a new element in his life, or
+rather in his death. Here, possibly, was a maiden to mourn him. He
+would lunch in his rooms.
+
+With a farewell look at Nellie's miniature, he took the medicine-
+bottle from the table, and went quickly out. The heavens had grown
+steadily darker and darker, the air more sulphurous and baleful. And
+the High had a strangely woebegone look, being all forsaken by youth,
+in this hour of luncheon. Even so would its look be all to-morrow,
+thought the Duke, and for many morrows. Well he had done what he
+could. He was free now to brighten a little his own last hours. He
+hastened on, eager to see the landlady's daughter. He wondered what
+she was like, and whether she really loved him.
+
+As he threw open the door of his sitting-room, he was aware of a
+rustle, a rush, a cry. In another instant, he was aware of Zuleika
+Dobson at his feet, at his knees, clasping him to her, sobbing,
+laughing, sobbing.
+
+
+XVI
+
+For what happened a few moments later you must not blame him. Some
+measure of force was the only way out of an impossible situation. It
+was in vain that he commanded the young lady to let go: she did but
+cling the closer. It was in vain that he tried to disentangle himself
+of her by standing first on one foot, then on the other, and veering
+sharply on his heel: she did but sway as though hinged to him. He had
+no choice but to grasp her by the wrists, cast her aside, and step
+clear of her into the room.
+
+Her hat, gauzily basking with a pair of long white gloves on one of
+his arm-chairs, proclaimed that she had come to stay.
+
+Nor did she rise. Propped on one elbow, with heaving bosom and parted
+lips, she seemed to be trying to realise what had been done to her.
+Through her undried tears her eyes shone up to him.
+
+He asked: "To what am I indebted for this visit?"
+
+"Ah, say that again!" she murmured. "Your voice is music."
+
+He repeated his question.
+
+"Music!" she said dreamily; and such is the force of habit that "I
+don't," she added, "know anything about music, really. But I know what
+I like."
+
+"Had you not better get up from the floor?" he said. "The door is
+open, and any one who passed might see you."
+
+Softly she stroked the carpet with the palms of her hands. "Happy
+carpet!" she crooned. "Aye, happy the very women that wove the threads
+that are trod by the feet of my beloved master. But hark! he bids his
+slave rise and stand before him!"
+
+Just after she had risen, a figure appeared in the doorway.
+
+"I beg pardon, your Grace; Mother wants to know, will you be lunching
+in?"
+
+"Yes," said the Duke. "I will ring when I am ready." And it dawned on
+him that this girl, who perhaps loved him, was, according to all known
+standards, extraordinarily pretty.
+
+"Will--" she hesitated, "will Miss Dobson be--"
+
+"No," he said. "I shall be alone." And there was in the girl's parting
+half-glance at Zuleika that which told him he was truly loved, and
+made him the more impatient of his offensive and accursed visitor.
+
+"You want to be rid of me?" asked Zuleika, when the girl was gone.
+
+"I have no wish to be rude; but--since you force me to say it--yes."
+
+"Then take me," she cried, throwing back her arms, "and throw me out
+of the window."
+
+He smiled coldly.
+
+"You think I don't mean it? You think I would struggle? Try me." She
+let herself droop sideways, in an attitude limp and portable. "Try
+me," she repeated.
+
+"All this is very well conceived, no doubt," said he, "and well
+executed. But it happens to be otiose."
+
+What do you mean?"
+
+"I mean you may set your mind at rest. I am not going to back out of
+my promise."
+
+Zuleika flushed. "You are cruel. I would give the world and all not to
+have written you that hateful letter. Forget it, forget it, for pity's
+sake!"
+
+The Duke looked searchingly at her. "You mean that you now wish to
+release me from my promise?"
+
+"Release you? As if you were ever bound! Don't torture me!"
+
+He wondered what deep game she was playing. Very real, though, her
+anguish seemed; and, if real it was, then--he stared, he gasped--there
+could be but one explanation. He put it to her. "You love me?"
+
+"With all my soul."
+
+His heart leapt. If she spoke truth, then indeed vengeance was his!
+But "What proof have I?" he asked her.
+
+"Proof? Have men absolutely NO intuition? If you need proof, produce
+it. Where are my ear-rings?"
+
+"Your ear-rings? Why?"
+
+Impatiently she pointed to two white pearls that fastened the front of
+her blouse. "These are your studs. It was from them I had the great
+first hint this morning."
+
+"Black and pink, were they not, when you took them?"
+
+"Of course. And then I forgot that I had them. When I undressed, they
+must have rolled on to the carpet. Melisande found them this morning
+when she was making the room ready for me to dress. That was just
+after she came back from bringing you my first letter. I was
+bewildered. I doubted. Might not the pearls have gone back to their
+natural state simply through being yours no more? That is why I wrote
+again to you, my own darling--a frantic little questioning letter.
+When I heard how you had torn it up, I knew, I knew that the pearls
+had not mocked me. I telescoped my toilet and came rushing round to
+you. How many hours have I been waiting for you?"
+
+The Duke had drawn her ear-rings from his waistcoat pocket, and was
+contemplating them in the palm of his hand. Blanched, both of them,
+yes. He laid them on the table. "Take them," he said.
+
+"No," she shuddered. "I could never forget that once they were both
+black." She flung them into the fender. "Oh John," she cried, turning
+to him and falling again to her knees, "I do so want to forget what I
+have been. I want to atone. You think you can drive me out of your
+life. You cannot, darling--since you won't kill me. Always I shall
+follow you on my knees, thus."
+
+He looked down at her over his folded arms,
+
+"I am not going to back out of my promise," he repeated.
+
+She stopped her ears.
+
+With a stern joy he unfolded his arms, took some papers from his
+breast-pocket, and, selecting one of them, handed it to her. It was
+the telegram sent by his steward.
+
+She read it. With a stern joy he watched her reading it.
+
+Wild-eyed, she looked up from it to him, tried to speak, and swerved
+down senseless.
+
+He had not foreseen this. "Help!" he vaguely cried--was she not a
+fellow-creature?--and rushed blindly out to his bedroom, whence he
+returned, a moment later, with the water-jug. He dipped his hand, and
+sprinkled the upturned face (Dew-drops on a white rose? But some
+other, sharper analogy hovered to him). He dipped and sprinkled. The
+water-beads broke, mingled--rivulets now. He dipped and flung, then
+caught the horrible analogy and rebounded.
+
+It was at this moment that Zuleika opened her eyes. "Where am I?" She
+weakly raised herself on one elbow; and the suspension of the Duke's
+hatred would have been repealed simultaneously with that of her
+consciousness, had it not already been repealed by the analogy. She
+put a hand to her face, then looked at the wet palm wonderingly,
+looked at the Duke, saw the water-jug beside him. She, too, it seemed,
+had caught the analogy; for with a wan smile she said "We are quits
+now, John, aren't we?"
+
+Her poor little jest drew to the Duke's face no answering smile, did
+but make hotter the blush there. The wave of her returning memory
+swept on--swept up to her with a roar the instant past. "Oh," she
+cried, staggering to her feet, "the owls, the owls!"
+
+Vengeance was his, and "Yes, there," he said, "is the ineluctable hard
+fact you wake to. The owls have hooted. The gods have spoken. This day
+your wish is to be fulfilled."
+
+"The owls have hooted. The gods have spoken. This day--oh, it must not
+be, John! Heaven have mercy on me!"
+
+"The unerring owls have hooted. The dispiteous and humorous gods have
+spoken. Miss Dobson, it has to be. And let me remind you," he added,
+with a glance at his watch, "that you ought not to keep The MacQuern
+waiting for luncheon."
+
+"That is unworthy of you," she said. There was in her eyes a look that
+made the words sound as if they had been spoken by a dumb animal.
+
+"You have sent him an excuse?"
+
+"No, I have forgotten him."
+
+"That is unworthy of you. After all, he is going to die for you, like
+the rest of us. I am but one of a number, you know. Use your sense of
+proportion."
+
+"If I do that," she said after a pause, "you may not be pleased by the
+issue. I may find that whereas yesterday I was great in my sinfulness,
+and to-day am great in my love, you, in your hate of me, are small. I
+may find that what I had taken to be a great indifference is nothing
+but a very small hate . . . Ah, I have wounded you? Forgive me, a weak
+woman, talking at random in her wretchedness. Oh John, John, if I
+thought you small, my love would but take on the crown of pity. Don't
+forbid me to call you John. I looked you up in Debrett while I was
+waiting for you. That seemed to bring you nearer to me. So many other
+names you have, too. I remember you told me them all yesterday, here
+in this room--not twenty-four hours ago. Hours? Years!" She laughed
+hysterically. "John, don't you see why I won't stop talking? It's
+because I dare not think."
+
+"Yonder in Balliol," he suavely said, "you will find the matter of my
+death easier to forget than here." He took her hat and gloves from the
+arm-chair, and held them carefully out to her; but she did not take
+them.
+
+"I give you three minutes," he told her. "Two minutes, that is, in
+which to make yourself tidy before the mirror. A third in which to say
+good-bye and be outside the front-door."
+
+"If I refuse?"
+
+"You will not."
+
+"If I do?"
+
+"I shall send for a policeman."
+
+She looked well at him. "Yes," she slowly said, "I think you would do
+that."
+
+She took her things from him, and laid them by the mirror. With a high
+hand she quelled the excesses of her hair--some of the curls still
+agleam with water--and knowingly poised and pinned her hat. Then,
+after a few swift touches and passes at neck and waist, she took her
+gloves and, wheeling round to him, "There!" she said, "I have been
+quick."
+
+"Admirably," he allowed.
+
+"Quick in more than meets the eye, John. Spiritually quick. You saw me
+putting on my hat; you did not see love taking on the crown of pity,
+and me bonneting her with it, tripping her up and trampling the life
+out of her. Oh, a most cold-blooded business, John! Had to be done,
+though. No other way out. So I just used my sense of proportion, as
+you rashly bade me, and then hardened my heart at sight of you as you
+are. One of a number? Yes, and a quite unlovable unit. So I am all
+right again. And now, where is Balliol? Far from here?"
+
+"No," he answered, choking a little, as might a card-player who,
+having been dealt a splendid hand, and having played it with flawless
+skill, has yet--damn it!--lost the odd trick. "Balliol is quite near.
+At the end of this street in fact. I can show it to you from the
+front-door."
+
+Yes, he had controlled himself. But this, he furiously felt, did not
+make him look the less a fool. What ought he to have SAID? He prayed,
+as he followed the victorious young woman downstairs, that l'esprit de
+l'escalier might befall him. Alas, it did not.
+
+"By the way," she said, when he had shown her where Balliol lay, "have
+you told anybody that you aren't dying just for me?"
+
+"No," he answered, "I have preferred not to."
+
+"Then officially, as it were, and in the eyes of the world, you die
+for me? Then all's well that ends well. Shall we say good-bye here? I
+shall be on the Judas Barge; but I suppose there will be a crush, as
+yesterday?"
+
+"Sure to be. There always is on the last night of the Eights, you
+know. Good-bye."
+
+"Good-bye, little John--small John," she cried across her shoulder,
+having the last word.
+
+
+XVII
+
+He might not have grudged her the last word, had she properly needed
+it. Its utter superfluity--the perfection of her victory without it--
+was what galled him. Yes, she had outflanked him, taken him unawares,
+and he had fired not one shot. Esprit de l'escalier--it was as he went
+upstairs that he saw how he might yet have snatched from her, if not
+the victory, the palm. Of course he ought to have laughed aloud--
+"Capital, capital! You really do deserve to fool me. But ah, yours is
+a love that can't be dissembled. Never was man by maiden loved more
+ardently than I by you, my poor girl, at this moment."
+
+And stay!--what if she really HAD been but pretending to have killed
+her love? He paused on the threshold of his room. The sudden doubt
+made his lost chance the more sickening. Yet was the doubt dear to him
+. . . What likelier, after all, than that she had been pretending? She
+had already twitted him with his lack of intuition. He had not seen
+that she loved him when she certainly did love him. He had needed the
+pearls' demonstration of that.--The pearls!  THEY would betray her. He
+darted to the fender, and one of them he espied there instantly--
+white? A rather flushed white, certainly. For the other he had to peer
+down. There it lay, not very distinct on the hearth's black-leading.
+
+He turned away. He blamed himself for not dismissing from his mind the
+hussy he had dismissed from his room. Oh for an ounce of civet and a
+few poppies! The water-jug stood as a reminder of the hateful visit
+and of . . . He took it hastily away into his bedroom. There he washed
+his hands. The fact that he had touched Zuleika gave to this ablution
+a symbolism that made it the more refreshing.
+
+Civet, poppies? Was there not, at his call, a sweeter perfume, a
+stronger anodyne? He rang the bell, almost caressingly.
+
+His heart beat at sound of the clinking and rattling of the tray borne
+up the stairs. She was coming, the girl who loved him, the girl whose
+heart would be broken when he died. Yet, when the tray appeared in the
+doorway, and she behind it, the tray took precedence of her in his
+soul not less than in his sight. Twice, after an arduous morning, had
+his luncheon been postponed, and the coming of it now made intolerable
+the pangs of his hunger.
+
+Also, while the girl laid the table-cloth, it occurred to him how
+flimsy, after all, was the evidence that she loved him. Suppose she
+did nothing of the kind! At the Junta, he had foreseen no difficulty
+in asking her. Now he found himself a prey to embarrassment. He
+wondered why. He had not failed in flow of gracious words to Nellie
+O'Mora. Well, a miniature by Hoppner was one thing, a landlady's live
+daughter was another. At any rate, he must prime himself with food. He
+wished Mrs. Batch had sent up something more calorific than cold
+salmon. He asked her daughter what was to follow.
+
+"There's a pigeon-pie, your Grace."
+
+"Cold? Then please ask your mother to heat it in the oven--quickly.
+Anything after that?"
+
+"A custard pudding, your Grace."
+
+"Cold? Let this, too, be heated. And bring up a bottle of champagne,
+please; and--and a bottle of port."
+
+His was a head that had always hitherto defied the grape. But he
+thought that to-day, by all he had gone through, by all the shocks he
+had suffered, and the strains he had steeled himself to bear, as well
+as by the actual malady that gripped him, he might perchance have been
+sapped enough to experience by reaction that cordial glow of which he
+had now and again seen symptoms in his fellows.
+
+Nor was he altogether disappointed of this hope. As the meal
+progressed, and the last of the champagne sparkled in his glass,
+certain things said to him by Zuleika--certain implied criticisms
+that had rankled, yes--lost their power to discommode him. He was
+able to smile at the impertinences of an angry woman, the tantrums of
+a tenth-rate conjurer told to go away. He felt he had perhaps acted
+harshly. With all her faults, she had adored him. Yes, he had been
+arbitrary. There seemed to be a strain of brutality in his nature.
+Poor Zuleika! He was glad for her that she had contrived to master her
+infatuation . . . Enough for him that he was loved by this exquisite
+meek girl who had served him at the feast. Anon, when he summoned her
+to clear the things away, he would bid her tell him the tale of her
+lowly passion. He poured a second glass of port, sipped it, quaffed
+it, poured a third. The grey gloom of the weather did but, as he eyed
+the bottle, heighten his sense of the rich sunshine so long ago
+imprisoned by the vintner and now released to make glad his soul. Even
+so to be released was the love pent for him in the heart of this sweet
+girl. Would that he loved her in return! . . . Why not?
+
+
+                             "Prius insolentem
+                    Serva Briseis niveo colore
+                          Movit Achillem."
+
+
+Nor were it gracious to invite an avowal of love and offer none in
+return. Yet, yet, expansive though his mood was, he could not pretend
+to himself that he was about to feel in this girl's presence anything
+but gratitude. He might pretend to her? Deception were a very poor
+return indeed for all her kindness. Besides, it might turn her head.
+Some small token of his gratitude--some trinket by which to remember
+him--was all that he could allow himself to offer . . . What trinket?
+Would she like to have one of his scarf-pins? Studs? Still more
+abs-- Ah! he had it, he literally and most providentially had it,
+there, in the fender: a pair of ear-rings!
+
+He plucked the pink pearl and the black from where they lay, and rang
+the bell.
+
+His sense of dramatic propriety needed that the girl should, before he
+addressed her, perform her task of clearing the table. If she had it
+to perform after telling her love, and after receiving his gift and
+his farewell, the bathos would be distressing for them both.
+
+But, while he watched her at her task, he did wish she would be a
+little quicker. For the glow in him seemed to be cooling momently. He
+wished he had had more than three glasses from the crusted bottle
+which she was putting away into the chiffonier. Down, doubt! Down,
+sense of disparity! The moment was at hand. Would he let it slip? Now
+she was folding up the table-cloth, now she was going.
+
+"Stay!" he uttered. "I have something to say to you." The girl turned
+to him.
+
+He forced his eyes to meet hers. "I understand," he said in a
+constrained voice, "that you regard me with sentiments of something
+more than esteem.--Is this so?"
+
+The girl had stepped quickly back, and her face was scarlet.
+
+"Nay," he said, having to go through with it now, "there is no cause
+for embarrassment. And I am sure you will acquit me of wanton
+curiosity. Is it a fact that you--love me?"
+
+She tried to speak, could not. But she nodded her head.
+
+The Duke, much relieved, came nearer to her.
+
+"What is your name?" he asked gently.
+
+"Katie," she was able to gasp.
+
+"Well, Katie, how long have you loved me?"
+
+"Ever since," she faltered, "ever since you came to engage the rooms."
+
+"You are not, of course, given to idolising any tenant of your
+mother's?"
+
+"No."
+
+"May I boast myself the first possessor of your heart?"
+
+"Yes." She had become very pale now, and was trembling painfully.
+
+"And may I assume that your love for me has been entirely
+disinterested? . . . You do not catch my meaning? I will put my
+question in another way. In loving me, you never supposed me
+likely to return your love?"
+
+The girl looked up at him quickly, but at once her eyelids fluttered
+down again.
+
+"Come, come!" said the Duke. "My question is a plain one. Did you ever
+for an instant suppose, Katie, that I might come to love you?"
+
+"No," she said in a whisper; "I never dared to hope that."
+
+"Precisely," said he. "You never imagined that you had anything to
+gain by your affection. You were not contriving a trap for me. You
+were upheld by no hope of becoming a young Duchess, with more frocks
+than you could wear and more dross than you could scatter. I am glad.
+I am touched. You are the first woman that has loved me in that way.
+Or rather," he muttered, "the first but one. And she . . . Answer me,"
+he said, standing over the girl, and speaking with a great intensity.
+"If I were to tell you that I loved you, would you cease to love me?"
+
+"Oh your Grace!" cried the girl. "Why no! I never dared--"
+
+"Enough!" he said. "The catechism is ended. I have something which I
+should like to give you. Are your ears pierced?"
+
+"Yes, your Grace."
+
+"Then, Katie, honour me by accepting this present." So saying, he
+placed in the girl's hand the black pearl and the pink. The sight of
+them banished for a moment all other emotions in their recipient. She
+forgot herself. "Lor!" she said.
+
+"I hope you will wear them always for my sake," said the Duke.
+
+She had expressed herself in the monosyllable. No words came to her
+lips, but to her eyes many tears, through which the pearls were
+visible. They whirled in her bewildered brain as a token that she was
+loved--loved by HIM, though but yesterday he had loved another. It was
+all so sudden, so beautiful. You might have knocked her down (she says
+so to this day) with a feather. Seeing her agitation, the Duke pointed
+to a chair, bade her be seated.
+
+Her mind was cleared by the new posture. Suspicion crept into it,
+followed by alarm. She looked at the ear-rings, then up at the Duke.
+
+"No," said he, misinterpreting the question in her eyes, "they are
+real pearls."
+
+"It isn't that," she quavered, "it is--it is--"
+
+"That they were given to me by Miss Dobson?"
+
+"Oh, they were, were they? Then"--Katie rose, throwing the pearls on
+the floor--"I'll have nothing to do with them. I hate her."
+
+"So do I," said the Duke, in a burst of confidence. "No, I don't," he
+added hastily. "Please forget that I said that."
+
+It occurred to Katie that Miss Dobson would be ill-pleased that the
+pearls should pass to her. She picked them up.
+
+"Only--only--" again her doubts beset her and she looked from the
+pearls to the Duke.
+
+"Speak on," he said.
+
+"Oh you aren't playing with me, are you? You don't mean me harm, do
+you? I have been well brought up. I have been warned against things.
+And it seems so strange, what you have said to me. You are a Duke, and
+I--I am only--"
+
+"It is the privilege of nobility to condescend."
+
+"Yes, yes," she cried. "I see. Oh I was wicked to doubt you. And love
+levels all, doesn't it? love and the Board school. Our stations are
+far apart, but I've been educated far above mine. I've learnt more
+than most real ladies have. I passed the Seventh Standard when I was
+only just fourteen. I was considered one of the sharpest girls in the
+school. And I've gone on learning since then," she continued eagerly.
+"I utilise all my spare moments. I've read twenty-seven of the Hundred
+Best Books. I collect ferns. I play the piano, whenever . . ." She
+broke off, for she remembered that her music was always interrupted by
+the ringing of the Duke's bell and a polite request that it should
+cease.
+
+"I am glad to hear of these accomplishments. They do you great credit,
+I am sure. But--well, I do not quite see why you enumerate them just
+now."
+
+"It isn't that I am vain," she pleaded. "I only mentioned them because
+. . . oh, don't you see? If I'm not ignorant, I shan't disgrace you.
+People won't be so able to say you've been and thrown yourself away."
+
+"Thrown myself away? What do you mean?"
+
+"Oh, they'll make all sorts of objections, I know. They'll all be
+against me, and--"
+
+"For heaven's sake, explain yourself."
+
+"Your aunt, she looked a very proud lady--very high and hard. I
+thought so when she came here last term. But you're of age. You're
+your own master. Oh, I trust you; you'll stand by me. If you love me
+really you won't listen to them."
+
+"Love you? I? Are you mad?"
+
+Each stared at the other, utterly bewildered.
+
+The girl was the first to break the silence. Her voice came in a
+whisper. "You've not been playing a joke on me? You meant what you
+said, didn't you?"
+
+"What have I said?"
+
+"You said you loved me."
+
+"You must be dreaming."
+
+"I'm not. Here are the ear-rings you gave me." She pinched them as
+material proof. "You said you loved me just before you gave me them.
+You know you did. And if I thought you'd been laughing at me all the
+time--I'd--I'd"--a sob choked her voice--"I'd throw them in your
+face!"
+
+"You must not speak to me in that manner," said the Duke coldly. "And
+let me warn you that this attempt to trap me and intimidate me--"
+
+The girl had flung the ear-rings at his face. She had missed her mark.
+But this did not extenuate the outrageous gesture. He pointed to the
+door. "Go!" he said.
+
+"Don't try that on!" she laughed. "I shan't go--not unless you drag me
+out. And if you do that, I'll raise the house. I'll have in the
+neighbours. I'll tell them all what you've done, and--" But defiance
+melted in the hot shame of humiliation. "Oh, you coward!" she gasped.
+"You coward!" She caught her apron to her face and, swaying against
+the wall, sobbed piteously.
+
+Unaccustomed to love-affairs, the Duke could not sail lightly over a
+flood of woman's tears. He was filled with pity for the poor quivering
+figure against the wall. How should he soothe her? Mechanically he
+picked up the two pearls from the carpet, and crossed to her side. He
+touched her on the shoulder. She shuddered away from him.
+
+"Don't," he said gently. "Don't cry. I can't bear it. I have been
+stupid and thoughtless. What did you say your name was? 'Katie,' to be
+sure. Well, Katie, I want to beg your pardon. I expressed myself
+badly. I was unhappy and lonely, and I saw in you a means of comfort.
+I snatched at you, Katie, as at a straw. And then, I suppose, I must
+have said something which made you think I loved you. I almost wish I
+did. I don't wonder you threw the ear-rings at me. I--I almost wish
+they had hit me . . . You see, I have quite forgiven you. Now do you
+forgive me. You will not refuse now to wear the ear-rings. I gave them
+to you as a keepsake. Wear them always in memory of me. For you will
+never see me again."
+
+The girl had ceased from crying, and her anger had spent itself in
+sobs. She was gazing at him woebegone but composed.
+
+"Where are you going?"
+
+"You must not ask that," said he. "Enough that my wings are spread."
+
+"Are you going because of ME?"
+
+"Not in the least. Indeed, your devotion is one of the things which
+make bitter my departure. And yet--I am glad you love me."
+
+"Don't go," she faltered. He came nearer to her, and this time she
+did not shrink from him. "Don't you find the rooms comfortable?" she
+asked, gazing up at him. "Have you ever had any complaint to make
+about the attendance?"
+
+"No," said the Duke, "the attendance has always been quite
+satisfactory. I have never felt that so keenly as I do to-day."
+
+"Then why are you leaving? Why are you breaking my heart?"
+
+"Suffice it that I cannot do otherwise. Henceforth you will see me no
+more. But I doubt not that in the cultivation of my memory you will
+find some sort of lugubrious satisfaction. See! here are the ear-
+rings. If you like, I will put them in with my own hands."
+
+She held up her face side-ways. Into the lobe of her left ear he
+insinuated the hook of the black pearl. On the cheek upturned to him
+there were still traces of tears; the eyelashes were still spangled.
+For all her blondness, they were quite dark, these glistening
+eyelashes. He had an impulse, which he put from him. "Now the other
+ear," he said. The girl turned her head. Soon the pink pearl was in
+its place. Yet the girl did not move. She seemed to be waiting. Nor
+did the Duke himself seem to be quite satisfied. He let his fingers
+dally with the pearl. Anon, with a sigh, he withdrew them. The girl
+looked up. Their eyes met. He looked away from her. He turned away
+from her. "You may kiss my hand," he murmured, extending it towards
+her. After a pause, the warm pressure of her lips was laid on it. He
+sighed, but did not look round. Another pause, a longer pause, and
+then the clatter and clink of the outgoing tray.
+
+
+XVIII
+
+Her actual offspring does not suffice a very motherly woman. Such a
+woman was Mrs. Batch. Had she been blest with a dozen children, she
+must yet have regarded herself as also a mother to whatever two young
+gentlemen were lodging under her roof. Childless but for Katie and
+Clarence, she had for her successive pairs of tenants a truly vast
+fund of maternal feeling to draw on. Nor were the drafts made in
+secret. To every gentleman, from the outset, she proclaimed the
+relation in which she would stand to him. Moreover, always she needed
+a strong filial sense in return: this was only fair.
+
+Because the Duke was an orphan, even more than because he was a Duke,
+her heart had with a special rush gone out to him when he and Mr.
+Noaks became her tenants. But, perhaps because he had never known a
+mother, he was evidently quite incapable of conceiving either Mrs.
+Batch as his mother or himself as her son. Indeed, there was that
+in his manner, in his look, which made her falter, for once, in
+exposition of her theory--made her postpone the matter to some more
+favourable time. That time never came, somehow. Still, her solicitude
+for him, her pride in him, her sense that he was a great credit to
+her, rather waxed than waned. He was more to her (such are the
+vagaries of the maternal instinct) than Katie or Mr. Noaks: he
+was as much as Clarence.
+
+It was, therefore, a deeply agitated woman who now came heaving up
+into the Duke's presence. His Grace was "giving notice"? She was sure
+she begged his pardon for coming up so sudden. But the news was that
+sudden. Hadn't her girl made a mistake, maybe? Girls were so vague-
+like nowadays. She was sure it was most kind of him to give those
+handsome ear-rings. But the thought of him going off so unexpected--
+middle of term, too--with never a why or a but! Well!
+
+In some such welter of homely phrase (how foreign to these classic
+pages!) did Mrs. Batch utter her pain. The Duke answered her tersely
+but kindly. He apologised for going so abruptly, and said he would be
+very happy to write for her future use a testimonial to the excellence
+of her rooms and of her cooking; and with it he would give her a
+cheque not only for the full term's rent, and for his board since the
+beginning of term, but also for such board as he would have been
+likely to have in the term's remainder. He asked her to present her
+accounts forthwith.
+
+He occupied the few minutes of her absence by writing the testimonial.
+It had shaped itself in his mind as a short ode in Doric Greek. But,
+for the benefit of Mrs. Batch, he chose to do a rough equivalent in
+English.
+
+
+     TO AN UNDERGRADUATE NEEDING
+     ROOMS IN OXFORD
+
+     (A Sonnet in Oxfordshire Dialect)
+
+     Zeek w'ere thee will in t'Univursity,
+     Lad, thee'll not vind nor bread nor bed that
+          matches
+     Them as thee'll vind, roight zure, at Mrs.
+          Batch's . . .
+
+
+I do not quote the poem in extenso, because, frankly, I think it
+was one of his least happily-inspired works. His was not a Muse that
+could with a good grace doff the grand manner. Also, his command of
+the Oxfordshire dialect seems to me based less on study than on
+conjecture. In fact, I do not place the poem higher than among the
+curiosities of literature. It has extrinsic value, however, as
+illustrating the Duke's thoughtfulness for others in the last hours of
+his life. And to Mrs. Batch the MS., framed and glazed in her hall, is
+an asset beyond price (witness her recent refusal of Mr. Pierpont
+Morgan's sensational bid for it).
+
+This MS. she received together with the Duke's cheque. The
+presentation was made some twenty minutes after she had laid
+her accounts before him.
+
+Lavish in giving large sums of his own accord, he was apt to be
+circumspect in the matter of small payments. Such is ever the way of
+opulent men. Nor do I see that we have a right to sneer at them for
+it. We cannot deny that their existence is a temptation to us. It is
+in our fallen nature to want to get something out of them; and, as we
+think in small sums (heaven knows), it is of small sums that they are
+careful. Absurd to suppose they really care about halfpence. It must,
+therefore, be about us that they care; and we ought to be grateful to
+them for the pains they are at to keep us guiltless. I do not suggest
+that Mrs. Batch had at any point overcharged the Duke; but how was he
+to know that she had not done so, except by checking the items, as was
+his wont? The reductions that he made, here and there, did not in all
+amount to three-and-sixpence. I do not say they were just. But I do
+say that his motive for making them, and his satisfaction at having
+made them, were rather beautiful than otherwise.
+
+Having struck an average of Mrs. Batch's weekly charges, and a similar
+average of his own reductions, he had a basis on which to reckon his
+board for the rest of the term. This amount he added to Mrs. Batch's
+amended total, plus the full term's rent, and accordingly drew a
+cheque on the local bank where he had an account. Mrs. Batch said she
+would bring up a stamped receipt directly; but this the Duke waived,
+saying that the cashed cheque itself would be a sufficient receipt.
+Accordingly, he reduced by one penny the amount written on the cheque.
+Remembering to initial the correction, he remembered also, with a
+melancholy smile, that to-morrow the cheque would not be negotiable.
+Handing it, and the sonnet, to Mrs. Batch, he bade her cash it before
+the bank closed. "And," he said, "with a glance at his watch, "you
+have no time to lose. It is a quarter to four." Only two hours and a
+quarter before the final races! How quickly the sands were running
+out!
+
+Mrs. Batch paused on the threshold, wanted to know if she could "help
+with the packing." The Duke replied that he was taking nothing with
+him: his various things would be sent for, packed, and removed, within
+a few days. No, he did not want her to order a cab. He was going to
+walk. And "Good-bye, Mrs. Batch," he said. "For legal reasons with
+which I won't burden you, you really must cash that cheque at once."
+
+He sat down in solitude; and there crept over him a mood of deep
+depression . . . Almost two hours and a quarter before the final
+races! What on earth should he do in the meantime? He seemed to have
+done all that there was for him to do. His executors would do the
+rest. He had no farewell-letters to write. He had no friends with whom
+he was on terms of valediction. There was nothing at all for him to
+do. He stared blankly out of the window, at the greyness and blackness
+of the sky. What a day! What a climate! Why did any sane person live
+in England? He felt positively suicidal.
+
+His dully vagrant eye lighted on the bottle of Cold Mixture. He ought
+to have dosed himself a full hour ago. Well, he didn't care.
+
+Had Zuleika noticed the bottle? he idly wondered. Probably not. She
+would have made some sprightly reference to it before she went.
+
+Since there was nothing to do but sit and think, he wished he could
+recapture that mood in which at luncheon he had been able to see
+Zuleika as an object for pity. Never, till to-day, had he seen things
+otherwise than they were. Nor had he ever needed to. Never, till last
+night, had there been in his life anything he needed to forget. That
+woman! As if it really mattered what she thought of him. He despised
+himself for wishing to forget she despised him. But the wish was the
+measure of the need. He eyed the chiffonier. Should he again solicit
+the grape?
+
+Reluctantly he uncorked the crusted bottle, and filled a glass. Was he
+come to this? He sighed and sipped, quaffed and sighed. The spell of
+the old stored sunshine seemed not to work, this time. He could not
+cease from plucking at the net of ignominies in which his soul lay
+enmeshed. Would that he had died yesterday, escaping how much!
+
+Not for an instant did he flinch from the mere fact of dying to-day.
+Since he was not immortal, as he had supposed, it were as well he
+should die now as fifty years hence. Better, indeed. To die
+"untimely," as men called it, was the timeliest of all deaths for
+one who had carved his youth to greatness. What perfection could he,
+Dorset, achieve beyond what was already his? Future years could but
+stale, if not actually mar, that perfection. Yes, it was lucky to
+perish leaving much to the imagination of posterity. Dear posterity
+was of a sentimental, not a realistic, habit. She always imagined the
+dead young hero prancing gloriously up to the Psalmist's limit a young
+hero still; and it was the sense of her vast loss that kept his memory
+green. Byron!--he would be all forgotten to-day if he had lived to be
+a florid old gentleman with iron-grey whiskers, writing very long,
+very able letters to "The Times" about the Repeal of the Corn Laws.
+Yes, Byron would have been that. It was indicated in him. He would
+have been an old gentleman exacerbated by Queen Victoria's invincible
+prejudice against him, her brusque refusal to "entertain" Lord John
+Russell's timid nomination of him for a post in the Government . . .
+Shelley would have been a poet to the last. But how dull, how very
+dull, would have been the poetry of his middle age!--a great
+unreadable mass interposed between him and us . . . Did Byron, mused
+the Duke, know what was to be at Missolonghi? Did he know that he was
+to die in service of the Greeks whom he despised? Byron might not have
+minded that. But what if the Greeks had told him, in so many words,
+that they despised HIM? How would he have felt then? Would he have
+been content with his potations of barley-water? . . . The Duke
+replenished his glass, hoping the spell might work yet. . . . Perhaps,
+had Byron not been a dandy--but ah, had he not been in his soul a
+dandy there would have been no Byron worth mentioning. And it was
+because he guarded not his dandyism against this and that irrelevant
+passion, sexual or political, that he cut so annoyingly incomplete a
+figure. He was absurd in his politics, vulgar in his loves. Only
+in himself, at the times when he stood haughtily aloof, was he
+impressive. Nature, fashioning him, had fashioned also a pedestal
+for him to stand and brood on, to pose and sing on. Off that pedestal
+he was lost. . . . "The idol has come sliding down from its pedestal"
+--the Duke remembered these words spoken yesterday by Zuleika. Yes, at
+the moment when he slid down, he, too, was lost. For him, master-
+dandy, the common arena was no place. What had he to do with love? He
+was an utter fool at it. Byron had at least had some fun out of it.
+What fun had HE had? Last night, he had forgotten to kiss Zuleika when
+he held her by the wrists. To-day it had been as much as he could do
+to let poor little Katie kiss his hand. Better be vulgar with Byron
+than a noodle with Dorset! he bitterly reflected . . . Still,
+noodledom was nearer than vulgarity to dandyism. It was a less
+flagrant lapse. And he had over Byron this further advantage: his
+noodledom was not a matter of common knowledge; whereas Byron's
+vulgarity had ever needed to be in the glare of the footlights of
+Europe. The world would say of him that he laid down his life for a
+woman. Deplorable somersault? But nothing evident save this in his
+whole life was faulty . . . The one other thing that might be carped
+at--the partisan speech he made in the Lords--had exquisitely
+justified itself by its result. For it was as a Knight of the Garter
+that he had set the perfect seal on his dandyism. Yes, he reflected,
+it was on the day when first he donned the most grandiose of all
+costumes, and wore it grandlier than ever yet in history had it been
+worn, than ever would it be worn hereafter, flaunting the robes with
+a grace unparalleled and inimitable, and lending, as it were, to the
+very insignia a glory beyond their own, that he once and for all
+fulfilled himself, doer of that which he had been sent into the world
+to do.
+
+And there floated into his mind a desire, vague at first, soon
+definite, imperious, irresistible, to see himself once more, before
+he died, indued in the fulness of his glory and his might.
+
+Nothing hindered. There was yet a whole hour before he need start for
+the river. His eyes dilated, somewhat as might those of a child about
+to "dress up" for a charade; and already, in his impatience, he had
+undone his neck-tie.
+
+One after another, he unlocked and threw open the black tin boxes,
+snatching out greedily their great good splendours of crimson and
+white and royal blue and gold. You wonder he was not appalled by the
+task of essaying unaided a toilet so extensive and so intricate? You
+wondered even when you heard that he was wont at Oxford to make
+without help his toilet of every day. Well, the true dandy is always
+capable of such high independence. He is craftsman as well as artist.
+And, though any unaided Knight but he with whom we are here concerned
+would belike have doddered hopeless in that labyrinth of hooks and
+buckles which underlies the visible glory of a Knight "arraied full
+and proper," Dorset threaded his way featly and without pause. He had
+mastered his first excitement. In his swiftness was no haste. His
+procedure had the ease and inevitability of a natural phenomenon, and
+was most like to the coming of a rainbow.
+
+Crimson-doubleted, blue-ribanded, white-trunk-hosed, he stooped
+to understrap his left knee with that strap of velvet round which
+sparkles the proud gay motto of the Order. He affixed to his breast
+the octoradiant star, so much larger and more lustrous than any
+actual star in heaven. Round his neck he slung that long daedal
+chain wherefrom St. George, slaying the Dragon, dangles. He bowed
+his shoulders to assume that vast mantle of blue velvet, so
+voluminous, so enveloping, that, despite the Cross of St. George
+blazing on it, and the shoulder-knots like two great white tropical
+flowers planted on it, we seem to know from it in what manner of
+mantle Elijah prophesied. Across his breast he knotted this mantle's
+two cords of gleaming bullion, one tassel a due trifle higher than
+its fellow. All these things being done, he moved away from the
+mirror, and drew on a pair of white kid gloves. Both of these being
+buttoned, he plucked up certain folds of his mantle into the hollow
+of his left arm, and with his right hand gave to his left hand that
+ostrich-plumed and heron-plumed hat of black velvet in which a Knight
+of the Garter is entitled to take his walks abroad. Then, with head
+erect, and measured tread, he returned to the mirror.
+
+You are thinking, I know, of Mr. Sargent's famous portrait of him.
+Forget it. Tankerton Hall is open to the public on Wednesdays. Go
+there, and in the dining-hall stand to study well Sir Thomas
+Lawrence's portrait of the eleventh Duke. Imagine a man some twenty
+years younger than he whom you there behold, but having some such
+features and some such bearing, and clad in just such robes. Sublimate
+the dignity of that bearing and of those features, and you will then
+have seen the fourteenth Duke somewhat as he stood reflected in the
+mirror of his room. Resist your impulse to pass on to the painting
+which hangs next but two to Lawrence's. It deserves, I know, all that
+you said about it when (at the very time of the events in this
+chronicle) it was hanging in Burlington House. Marvellous, I grant
+you, are those passes of the swirling brush by which the velvet of the
+mantle is rendered--passes so light and seemingly so fortuitous, yet,
+seen at the right distance, so absolute in their power to create an
+illusion of the actual velvet. Sheen of white satin and silk, glint of
+gold, glitter of diamonds--never were such things caught by surer hand
+obedient to more voracious eye. Yes, all the splendid surface of
+everything is there. Yet must you not look. The soul is not there.
+An expensive, very new costume is there, but no evocation of the high
+antique things it stands for; whereas by the Duke it was just these
+things that were evoked to make an aura round him, a warm symbolic
+glow sharpening the outlines of his own particular magnificence.
+Reflecting him, the mirror reflected, in due subordination, the
+history of England. There is nothing of that on Mr. Sargent's canvas.
+Obtruded instead is the astounding slickness of Mr. Sargent's
+technique: not the sitter, but the painter, is master here. Nay,
+though I hate to say it, there is in the portrayal of the Duke's
+attitude and expression a hint of something like mockery--
+unintentional, I am sure, but to a sensitive eye discernible.
+And--but it is clumsy of me to be reminding you of the very
+picture I would have you forget.
+
+Long stood the Duke gazing, immobile. One thing alone ruffled his deep
+inward calm. This was the thought that he must presently put off from
+him all his splendour, and be his normal self.
+
+The shadow passed from his brow. He would go forth as he was. He would
+be true to the motto he wore, and true to himself. A dandy he had
+lived. In the full pomp and radiance of his dandyism he would die.
+
+His soul rose from calm to triumph. A smile lit his face, and he held
+his head higher than ever. He had brought nothing into this world and
+could take nothing out of it? Well, what he loved best he could carry
+with him to the very end; and in death they would not be divided.
+
+The smile was still on his face as he passed out from his room. Down
+the stairs he passed, and "Oh," every stair creaked faintly, "I ought
+to have been marble!"
+
+And it did indeed seem that Mrs. Batch and Katie, who had hurried out
+into the hall, were turned to some kind of stone at sight of the
+descending apparition. A moment ago, Mrs. Batch had been hoping she
+might yet at the last speak motherly words. A hopeless mute now! A
+moment ago, Katie's eyelids had been red with much weeping. Even from
+them the colour suddenly ebbed now. Dead-white her face was between
+the black pearl and the pink. "And this is the man of whom I dared
+once for an instant hope that he loved me!"--it was thus that the
+Duke, quite correctly, interpreted her gaze.
+
+To her and to her mother he gave an inclusive bow as he swept slowly
+by. Stone was the matron, and stone the maid.
+
+Stone, too, the Emperors over the way; and the more poignantly thereby
+was the Duke a sight to anguish them, being the very incarnation of
+what themselves had erst been, or tried to be. But in this bitterness
+they did not forget their sorrow at his doom. They were in a mood to
+forgive him the one fault they had ever found in him--his indifference
+to their Katie. And now--o mirum mirorum--even this one fault was
+wiped out.
+
+For, stung by memory of a gibe lately cast at him by himself, the Duke
+had paused and, impulsively looking back into the hall, had beckoned
+Katie to him; and she had come (she knew not how) to him; and there,
+standing on the doorstep whose whiteness was the symbol of her love,
+he--very lightly, it is true, and on the upmost confines of the brow,
+but quite perceptibly--had kissed her.
+
+
+XIX
+
+And now he had passed under the little arch between the eighth and the
+ninth Emperor, rounded the Sheldonian, and been lost to sight of
+Katie, whom, as he was equally glad and sorry he had kissed her, he
+was able to dismiss from his mind.
+
+In the quadrangle of the Old Schools he glanced round at the familiar
+labels, blue and gold, over the iron-studded doors,--Schola Theologiae
+et Antiquae Philosophiae; Museum Arundelianum; Schola Musicae. And
+Bibliotheca Bodleiana--he paused there, to feel for the last time the
+vague thrill he had always felt at sight of the small and devious
+portal that had lured to itself, and would always lure, so many
+scholars from the ends of the earth, scholars famous and scholars
+obscure, scholars polyglot and of the most diverse bents, but none of
+them not stirred in heart somewhat on the found threshold of the
+treasure-house. "How deep, how perfect, the effect made here by
+refusal to make any effect whatsoever!" thought the Duke. Perhaps,
+after all . . . but no: one could lay down no general rule. He flung
+his mantle a little wider from his breast, and proceeded into
+Radcliffe Square.
+
+Another farewell look he gave to the old vast horse-chestnut that is
+called Bishop Heber's tree. Certainly, no: there was no general rule.
+With its towering and bulging masses of verdure tricked out all over
+in their annual finery of catkins, Bishop Heber's tree stood for the
+very type of ingenuous ostentation. And who should dare cavil? who not
+be gladdened? Yet awful, more than gladdening, was the effect that the
+tree made to-day. Strangely pale was the verdure against the black
+sky; and the multitudinous catkins had a look almost ghostly. The Duke
+remembered the legend that every one of these fair white spires of
+blossom is the spirit of some dead man who, having loved Oxford much
+and well, is suffered thus to revisit her, for a brief while, year by
+year. And it pleased him to doubt not that on one of the topmost
+branches, next Spring, his own spirit would be.
+
+"Oh, look!" cried a young lady emerging with her brother and her aunt
+through the gate of Brasenose.
+
+"For heaven's sake, Jessie, try to behave yourself," hissed her
+brother. "Aunt Mabel, for heaven's sake don't stare." He compelled the
+pair to walk on with him. "Jessie, if you look round over your
+shoulder . . . No, it is NOT the Vice-Chancellor. It's Dorset, of
+Judas--the Duke of Dorset . . . Why on earth shouldn't he? . . . No,
+it isn't odd in the least . . . No, I'm NOT losing my temper. Only,
+don't call me your dear boy . . . No, we will NOT walk slowly so as to
+let him pass us . . . Jessie, if you look round . . ."
+
+Poor fellow! However fond an undergraduate be of his womenfolk, at
+Oxford they keep him in a painful state of tension: at any moment they
+may somehow disgrace him. And if throughout the long day he shall have
+had the added strain of guarding them from the knowledge that he is
+about to commit suicide, a certain measure of irritability must be
+condoned.
+
+Poor Jessie and Aunt Mabel! They were destined to remember that Harold
+had been "very peculiar" all day. They had arrived in the morning,
+happy and eager despite the menace of the sky, and--well, they were
+destined to reproach themselves for having felt that Harold was
+"really rather impossible." Oh, if he had only confided in them! They
+could have reasoned with him, saved him--surely they could have saved
+him! When he told them that the "First Division" of the races was
+always very dull, and that they had much better let him go to it
+alone,--when he told them that it was always very rowdy, and that
+ladies were not supposed to be there--oh, why had they not guessed and
+clung to him, and kept him away from the river?
+
+Well, here they were, walking on Harold's either side, blind to fate,
+and only longing to look back at the gorgeous personage behind them.
+Aunt Mabel had inwardly calculated that the velvet of the mantle alone
+could not have cost less than four guineas a yard. One good look back,
+and she would be able to calculate how many yards there were . . . She
+followed the example of Lot's wife; and Jessie followed hers.
+
+"Very well," said Harold. "That settles it. I go alone." And he was
+gone like an arrow, across the High, down Oriel Street.
+
+The two women stood staring ruefully at each other.
+
+"Pardon me," said the Duke, with a sweep of his plumed hat. "I observe
+you are stranded; and, if I read your thoughts aright, you are
+impugning the courtesy of that young runagate. Neither of you, I am
+very sure, is as one of those ladies who in Imperial Rome took a saucy
+pleasure in the spectacle of death. Neither of you can have been
+warned by your escort that you were on the way to see him die, of his
+own accord, in company with many hundreds of other lads, myself
+included. Therefore, regard his flight from you as an act not of
+unkindness, but of tardy compunction. The hint you have had from him
+let me turn into a counsel. Go back, both of you, to the place whence
+you came."
+
+"Thank you SO much," said Aunt Mabel, with what she took to be great
+presence of mind. "MOST kind of you. We'll do JUST what you tell us.
+Come, Jessie dear," and she hurried her niece away with her.
+
+Something in her manner of fixing him with her eye had made the Duke
+suspect what was in her mind. Well, she would find out her mistake
+soon enough, poor woman. He desired, however, that her mistake should
+be made by no one else. He would give no more warnings.
+
+Tragic it was for him, in Merton Street, to see among the crowd
+converging to the meadows so many women, young and old, all
+imprescient, troubled by nothing but the thunder that was in the
+air, that was on the brows of their escorts. He knew not whether it
+was for their escorts or for them that he felt the greater pity;
+and an added load for his heart was the sense of his partial
+responsibility for what impended. But his lips were sealed now.
+Why should he not enjoy the effect he was creating?
+
+It was with a measured tread, as yesterday with Zuleika, that he
+entered the avenue of elms. The throng streamed past from behind him,
+parting wide, and marvelling as it streamed. Under the pall of this
+evil evening his splendour was the more inspiring. And, just as
+yesterday no man had questioned his right to be with Zuleika, so
+to-day there was none to deem him caparisoned too much. All the men
+felt at a glance that he, coming to meet death thus, did no more than
+the right homage to Zuleika--aye, and that he made them all partakers
+in his own glory, casting his great mantle over all commorients.
+Reverence forbade them to do more than glance. But the women with them
+were impelled by wonder to stare hard, uttering sharp little cries
+that mingled with the cawing of the rooks overhead. Thus did scores of
+men find themselves shamed like our friend Harold. But this, you say,
+was no more than a just return for their behaviour yesterday, when, in
+this very avenue, so many women were almost crushed to death by them
+in their insensate eagerness to see Miss Dobson.
+
+To-day by scores of women it was calculated not only that the velvet
+of the Duke's mantle could not have cost less than four guineas a
+yard, but also that there must be quite twenty-five yards of it. Some
+of the fair mathematicians had, in the course of the past fortnight,
+visited the Royal Academy and seen there Mr. Sargent's portrait of the
+wearer, so that their estimate now was but the endorsement of an
+estimate already made. Yet their impression of the Duke was above all
+a spiritual one. The nobility of his face and bearing was what most
+thrilled them as they went by; and those of them who had heard the
+rumour that he was in love with that frightfully flashy-looking
+creature, Zuleika Dobson, were more than ever sure there wasn't a
+word of truth in it.
+
+As he neared the end of the avenue, the Duke was conscious of a
+thinning in the procession on either side of him, and anon he was
+aware that not one undergraduate was therein. And he knew at once--
+did not need to look back to know--why this was. SHE was coming.
+
+Yes, she had come into the avenue, her magnetism speeding before her,
+insomuch that all along the way the men immediately ahead of her
+looked round, beheld her, stood aside for her. With her walked The
+MacQuern, and a little bodyguard of other blest acquaintances; and
+behind her swayed the dense mass of the disorganised procession. And
+now the last rank between her and the Duke was broken, and at the
+revealed vision of him she faltered midway in some raillery she was
+addressing to The MacQuern. Her eyes were fixed, her lips were parted,
+her tread had become stealthy. With a brusque gesture of dismissal to
+the men beside her, she darted forward, and lightly overtook the Duke
+just as he was turning towards the barges.
+
+"May I?" she whispered, smiling round into his face.
+
+His shoulder-knots just perceptibly rose.
+
+"There isn't a policeman in sight, John. You're at my mercy. No, no;
+I'm at yours. Tolerate me. You really do look quite wonderful. There,
+I won't be so impertinent as to praise you. Only let me be with you.
+Will you?"
+
+The shoulder-knots repeated their answer.
+
+"You needn't listen to me; needn't look at me--unless you care to use
+my eyes as mirrors. Only let me be seen with you. That's what I want.
+Not that your society isn't a boon in itself, John. Oh, I've been so
+bored since I left you. The MacQuern is too, too dull, and so are his
+friends. Oh, that meal with them in Balliol! As soon as I grew used to
+the thought that they were going to die for me, I simply couldn't
+stand them. Poor boys! it was as much as I could do not to tell them I
+wished them dead already. Indeed, when they brought me down for the
+first races, I did suggest that they might as well die now as later.
+Only they looked very solemn and said it couldn't possibly be done
+till after the final races. And oh, the tea with them! What have YOU
+been doing all the afternoon? Oh John, after THEM, I could almost love
+you again. Why can't one fall in love with a man's clothes? To think
+that all those splendid things you have on are going to be spoilt--all
+for me. Nominally for me, that is. It is very wonderful, John. I do
+appreciate it, really and truly, though I know you think I don't.
+John, if it weren't mere spite you feel for me--but it's no good
+talking about that. Come, let us be as cheerful as we may be. Is this
+the Judas house-boat?"
+
+"The Judas barge," said the Duke, irritated by a mistake which but
+yesterday had rather charmed him.
+
+As he followed his companion across the plank, there came dully from
+the hills the first low growl of the pent storm. The sound struck for
+him a strange contrast with the prattle he had perforce been listening
+to.
+
+"Thunder," said Zuleika over her shoulder.
+
+"Evidently," he answered.
+
+Half-way up the stairs to the roof, she looked round. "Aren't you
+coming?" she asked.
+
+He shook his head, and pointed to the raft in front of the barge. She
+quickly descended.
+
+"Forgive me," he said, "my gesture was not a summons. The raft is for
+men."
+
+"What do you want to do on it?"
+
+"To wait there till the races are over."
+
+"But--what do you mean? Aren't you coming up on to the roof at all?
+Yesterday--"
+
+"Oh, I see," said the Duke, unable to repress a smile. "But to-day I
+am not dressed for a flying-leap."
+
+Zuleika put a finger to her lips. "Don't talk so loud. Those women up
+there will hear you. No one must ever know I knew what was going to
+happen. What evidence should I have that I tried to prevent it? Only
+my own unsupported word--and the world is always against a woman. So
+do be careful. I've thought it all out. The whole thing must be SPRUNG
+on me. Don't look so horribly cynical . . . What was I saying? Oh yes;
+well, it doesn't really matter. I had it fixed in my mind that you--
+but no, of course, in that mantle you couldn't. But why not come up on
+the roof with me meanwhile, and then afterwards make some excuse
+and--" The rest of her whisper was lost in another growl of thunder.
+
+"I would rather make my excuses forthwith," said the Duke. "And, as
+the races must be almost due now, I advise you to go straight up and
+secure a place against the railing."
+
+"It will look very odd, my going all alone into a crowd of people whom
+I don't know. I'm an unmarried girl. I do think you might--"
+
+"Good-bye," said the Duke.
+
+Again Zuleika raised a warning finger.
+
+"Good-bye, John," she whispered. "See, I am still wearing your studs.
+Good-bye. Don't forget to call my name in a loud voice. You promised."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And," she added, after a pause, "remember this. I have loved but
+twice in my life; and none but you have I loved. This, too: if you
+hadn't forced me to kill my love, I would have died with you. And you
+know it is true."
+
+"Yes." It was true enough.
+
+Courteously he watched her up the stairs.
+
+As she reached the roof, she cried down to him from the throng, "Then
+you will wait down there to take me home afterwards?"
+
+He bowed silently.
+
+The raft was even more crowded than yesterday, but way was made for
+him by Judasians past and present. He took his place in the centre of
+the front row.
+
+At his feet flowed the fateful river. From the various barges the last
+punt-loads had been ferried across to the towing-path, and the last of
+the men who were to follow the boats in their course had vanished
+towards the starting-point. There remained, however, a fringe of
+lesser enthusiasts. Their figures stood outlined sharply in that
+strange dark clearness which immediately precedes a storm.
+
+The thunder rumbled around the hills, and now and again there was a
+faint glare on the horizon.
+
+Would Judas bump Magdalen? Opinion on the raft seemed to be divided.
+But the sanguine spirits were in a majority.
+
+"If I were making a book on the event," said a middle-aged clergyman,
+with that air of breezy emancipation which is so distressing to the
+laity, "I'd bet two to one we bump."
+
+"You demean your cloth, sir," the Duke would have said, "without
+cheating its disabilities," had not his mouth been stopped by a loud
+and prolonged thunder-clap.
+
+In the hush thereafter, came the puny sound of a gunshot. The boats
+were starting. Would Judas bump Magdalen? Would Judas be head of the
+river?
+
+Strange, thought the Duke, that for him, standing as he did on the
+peak of dandyism, on the brink of eternity, this trivial question of
+boats could have importance. And yet, and yet, for this it was that
+his heart was beating. A few minutes hence, an end to victors and
+vanquished alike; and yet . . .
+
+A sudden white vertical streak slid down the sky. Then there was a
+consonance to split the drums of the world's ears, followed by a
+horrific rattling as of actual artillery--tens of thousands of
+gun-carriages simultaneously at the gallop, colliding, crashing,
+heeling over in the blackness.
+
+Then, and yet more awful, silence; the little earth cowering voiceless
+under the heavens' menace. And, audible in the hush now, a faint
+sound; the sound of the runners on the towing-path cheering the crews
+forward, forward.
+
+And there was another faint sound that came to the Duke's ears. It he
+understood when, a moment later, he saw the surface of the river alive
+with infinitesimal fountains.
+
+Rain!
+
+His very mantle was aspersed. In another minute he would stand sodden,
+inglorious, a mock. He didn't hesitate.
+
+"Zuleika!" he cried in a loud voice. Then he took a deep breath, and,
+burying his face in his mantle, plunged.
+
+Full on the river lay the mantle outspread. Then it, too, went under.
+A great roll of water marked the spot. The plumed hat floated.
+
+There was a confusion of shouts from the raft, of screams from the
+roof. Many youths--all the youths there--cried "Zuleika!" and leapt
+emulously headlong into the water. "Brave fellows!" shouted the elder
+men, supposing rescue-work. The rain pelted, the thunder pealed. Here
+and there was a glimpse of a young head above water--for an instant
+only.
+
+Shouts and screams now from the infected barges on either side. A
+score of fresh plunges. "Splendid fellows!"
+
+Meanwhile, what of the Duke? I am glad to say that he was alive and
+(but for the cold he had caught last night) well. Indeed, his mind had
+never worked more clearly than in this swift dim underworld. His
+mantle, the cords of it having come untied, had drifted off him,
+leaving his arms free. With breath well-pent, he steadily swam,
+scarcely less amused than annoyed that the gods had, after all,
+dictated the exact time at which he should seek death.
+
+I am loth to interrupt my narrative at this rather exciting moment--a
+moment when the quick, tense style, exemplified in the last paragraph
+but one, is so very desirable. But in justice to the gods I must pause
+to put in a word of excuse for them. They had imagined that it was in
+mere irony that the Duke had said he could not die till after the
+bumping-races; and not until it seemed that he stood ready to make an
+end of himself had the signal been given by Zeus for the rain to fall.
+One is taught to refrain from irony, because mankind does tend to
+take it literally. In the hearing of the gods, who hear all, it is
+conversely unsafe to make a simple and direct statement. So what is
+one to do? The dilemma needs a whole volume to itself.
+
+But to return to the Duke. He had now been under water for a full
+minute, swimming down stream; and he calculated that he had yet
+another full minute of consciousness. Already the whole of his past
+life had vividly presented itself to him--myriads of tiny incidents,
+long forgotten, now standing out sharply in their due sequence. He had
+mastered this conspectus in a flash of time, and was already tired of
+it. How smooth and yielding were the weeds against his face! He
+wondered if Mrs. Batch had been in time to cash the cheque. If not, of
+course his executors would pay the amount, but there would be delays,
+long delays, Mrs. Batch in meshes of red tape. Red tape for her, green
+weeds for him--he smiled at this poor conceit, classifying it as a
+fair sample of merman's wit. He swam on through the quiet cool
+darkness, less quickly now. Not many more strokes now, he told
+himself; a few, only a few; then sleep. How was he come here? Some
+woman had sent him. Ever so many years ago, some woman. He forgave
+her. There was nothing to forgive her. It was the gods who had sent
+him--too soon, too soon. He let his arms rise in the water, and he
+floated up. There was air in that over-world, and something he needed
+to know there before he came down again to sleep.
+
+He gasped the air into his lungs, and he remembered what it was that
+he needed to know.
+
+Had he risen in mid-stream, the keel of the Magdalen boat might have
+killed him. The oars of Magdalen did all but graze his face. The eyes
+of the Magdalen cox met his. The cords of the Magdalen rudder slipped
+from the hands that held them; whereupon the Magdalen man who rowed
+"bow" missed his stroke.
+
+An instant later, just where the line of barges begins, Judas had
+bumped Magdalen.
+
+A crash of thunder deadened the din of the stamping and dancing crowd
+on the towing-path. The rain was a deluge making land and water as
+one.
+
+And the conquered crew, and the conquering, both now had seen the face
+of the Duke. A white smiling face, anon it was gone. Dorset was gone
+down to his last sleep.
+
+Victory and defeat alike forgotten, the crews staggered erect and
+flung themselves into the river, the slender boats capsizing and
+spinning futile around in a melley of oars.
+
+From the towing-path--no more din there now, but great single cries of
+"Zuleika!"--leapt figures innumerable through rain to river. The
+arrested boats of the other crews drifted zigzag hither and thither.
+The dropped oars rocked and clashed, sank and rebounded, as the men
+plunged across them into the swirling stream.
+
+And over all this confusion and concussion of men and man-made things
+crashed the vaster discords of the heavens; and the waters of the
+heavens fell ever denser and denser, as though to the aid of waters
+that could not in themselves envelop so many hundreds of struggling
+human forms.
+
+All along the soaked towing-path lay strewn the horns, the rattles,
+the motor-hooters, that the youths had flung aside before they leapt.
+Here and there among these relics stood dazed elder men, staring
+through the storm. There was one of them--a grey-beard--who stripped
+off his blazer, plunged, grabbed at some live man, grappled him, was
+dragged under. He came up again further along stream, swam choking to
+the bank, clung to the grasses. He whimpered as he sought foot-hold in
+the slime. It was ill to be down in that abominable sink of death.
+
+Abominable, yes, to them who discerned there death only; but
+sacramental and sweet enough to the men who were dying there for
+love. Any face that rose was smiling.
+
+The thunder receded; the rain was less vehement: the boats and the
+oars had drifted against the banks. And always the patient river bore
+its awful burden towards Iffley.
+
+As on the towing-path, so on the youth-bereft rafts of the barges,
+yonder, stood many stupefied elders, staring at the river, staring
+back from the river into one another's faces.
+
+Dispeopled now were the roofs of the barges. Under the first drops of
+the rain most of the women had come huddling down for shelter inside;
+panic had presently driven down the rest. Yet on one roof one woman
+still was. A strange, drenched figure, she stood bright-eyed in the
+dimness; alone, as it was well she should be in her great hour;
+draining the lees of such homage as had come to no woman in history
+recorded.
+
+
+XX
+
+Artistically, there is a good deal to be said for that old Greek
+friend of ours, the Messenger; and I dare say you blame me for
+having, as it were, made you an eye-witness of the death of the
+undergraduates, when I might so easily have brought some one in to
+tell you about it after it was all over . . . Some one? Whom? Are you
+not begging the question? I admit there were, that evening in Oxford,
+many people who, when they went home from the river, gave vivid
+reports of what they had seen. But among them was none who had seen
+more than a small portion of the whole affair. Certainly, I might have
+pieced together a dozen of the various accounts, and put them all into
+the mouth of one person. But credibility is not enough for Clio's
+servant. I aim at truth. And so, as I by my Zeus-given incorporeity
+was the one person who had a good view of the scene at large, you must
+pardon me for having withheld the veil of indirect narration.
+
+"Too late," you will say if I offer you a Messenger now. But it was
+not thus that Mrs. Batch and Katie greeted Clarence when, lamentably
+soaked with rain, that Messenger appeared on the threshold of the
+kitchen. Katie was laying the table-cloth for seven o'clock supper.
+Neither she nor her mother was clairvoyante. Neither of them knew
+what had been happening. But, as Clarence had not come home since
+afternoon-school, they had assumed that he was at the river; and
+they now assumed from the look of him that something very unusual
+had been happening there. As to what this was, they were not quickly
+enlightened. Our old Greek friend, after a run of twenty miles, would
+always reel off a round hundred of graphic verses unimpeachable in
+scansion. Clarence was of degenerate mould. He collapsed on to a
+chair, and sat there gasping; and his recovery was rather delayed than
+hastened by his mother, who, in her solicitude, patted him vigorously
+between the shoulders.
+
+"Let him alone, mother, do," cried Katie, wringing her hands.
+
+"The Duke, he's drowned himself," presently gasped the Messenger.
+
+Blank verse, yes, so far as it went; but delivered without the
+slightest regard for rhythm, and composed in stark defiance of those
+laws which should regulate the breaking of bad news. You, please
+remember, were carefully prepared by me against the shock of the
+Duke's death; and yet I hear you still mumbling that I didn't let the
+actual fact be told you by a Messenger. Come, do you really think your
+grievance against me is for a moment comparable with that of Mrs. and
+Miss Batch against Clarence? Did you feel faint at any moment in the
+foregoing chapter? No. But Katie, at Clarence's first words, fainted
+outright. Think a little more about this poor girl senseless on the
+floor, and a little less about your own paltry discomfort.
+
+Mrs. Batch herself did not faint, but she was too much overwhelmed to
+notice that her daughter had done so.
+
+"No! Mercy on us! Speak, boy, can't you?"
+
+"The river," gasped Clarence. "Threw himself in. On purpose. I was on
+the towing-path. Saw him do it."
+
+Mrs. Batch gave a low moan.
+
+"Katie's fainted," added the Messenger, not without a touch of
+personal pride.
+
+"Saw him do it," Mrs. Batch repeated dully. "Katie," she said, in the
+same voice, "get up this instant." But Katie did not hear her.
+
+The mother was loth to have been outdone in sensibility by the
+daughter, and it was with some temper that she hastened to make the
+necessary ministrations.
+
+"Where am I?" asked Katie, at length, echoing the words used in this
+very house, at a similar juncture, on this very day, by another lover
+of the Duke.
+
+"Ah, you may well ask that," said Mrs. Batch, with more force than
+reason. "A mother's support indeed! Well! And as for you," she cried,
+turning on Clarence, "sending her off like that with your--" She was
+face to face again with the tragic news. Katie, remembering it
+simultaneously, uttered a loud sob. Mrs. Batch capped this with a much
+louder one. Clarence stood before the fire, slowly revolving on one
+heel. His clothes steamed briskly.
+
+"It isn't true," said Katie. She rose and came uncertainly towards her
+brother, half threatening, half imploring.
+
+"All right," said he, strong in his advantage. "Then I shan't tell
+either of you anything more."
+
+Mrs. Batch through her tears called Katie a bad girl, and Clarence a
+bad boy.
+
+"Where did you get THEM?" asked Clarence, pointing to the ear-rings
+worn by his sister.
+
+"HE gave me them," said Katie. Clarence curbed the brotherly intention
+of telling her she looked "a sight" in them.
+
+She stood staring into vacancy. "He didn't love HER," she murmured.
+"That was all over. I'll vow he didn't love HER."
+
+"Who d'you mean by her?" asked Clarence.
+
+"That Miss Dobson that's been here."
+
+"What's her other name?"
+
+"Zuleika," Katie enunciated with bitterest abhorrence.
+
+"Well, then, he jolly well did love her. That's the name he called out
+just before he threw himself in. 'Zuleika!'--like that," added the
+boy, with a most infelicitous attempt to reproduce the Duke's manner.
+
+Katie had shut her eyes, and clenched her hands.
+
+"He hated her. He told me so," she said.
+
+"I was always a mother to him," sobbed Mrs. Batch, rocking to and fro
+on a chair in a corner. "Why didn't he come to me in his trouble?"
+
+"He kissed me," said Katie, as in a trance. "No other man shall ever
+do that."
+
+"He did?" exclaimed Clarence. "And you let him?"
+
+"You wretched little whipper-snapper!" flashed Katie.
+
+"Oh, I am, am I?" shouted Clarence, squaring up to his sister. "Say
+that again, will you?"
+
+There is no doubt that Katie would have said it again, had not her
+mother closed the scene with a prolonged wail of censure.
+
+"You ought to be thinking of ME, you wicked girl," said Mrs. Batch.
+Katie went across, and laid a gentle hand on her mother's shoulder.
+This, however, did but evoke a fresh flood of tears. Mrs. Batch had a
+keen sense of the deportment owed to tragedy. Katie, by bickering with
+Clarence, had thrown away the advantage she had gained by fainting.
+Mrs. Batch was not going to let her retrieve it by shining as a
+consoler. I hasten to add that this resolve was only sub-conscious in
+the good woman. Her grief was perfectly sincere. And it was not the
+less so because with it was mingled a certain joy in the greatness of
+the calamity. She came of good sound peasant stock. Abiding in her was
+the spirit of those old songs and ballads in which daisies and
+daffodillies and lovers' vows and smiles are so strangely inwoven with
+tombs and ghosts, with murders and all manner of grim things. She had
+not had education enough to spoil her nerve. She was able to take the
+rough with the smooth. She was able to take all life for her province,
+and death too.
+
+The Duke was dead. This was the stupendous outline she had grasped:
+now let it be filled in. She had been stricken: now let her be racked.
+Soon after her daughter had moved away, Mrs. Batch dried her eyes, and
+bade Clarence tell just what had happened. She did not flinch. Modern
+Katie did.
+
+Such had ever been the Duke's magic in the household that Clarence had
+at first forgotten to mention that any one else was dead. Of this
+omission he was glad. It promised him a new lease of importance.
+Meanwhile, he described in greater detail the Duke's plunge. Mrs.
+Batch's mind, while she listened, ran ahead, dog-like, into the
+immediate future, ranging around: "the family" would all be here
+to-morrow, the Duke's own room must be "put straight" to-night, "I
+was of speaking" . . .
+
+Katie's mind harked back to the immediate past--to the tone of that
+voice, to that hand which she had kissed, to the touch of those lips
+on her brow, to the door-step she had made so white for him, day by
+day . . .
+
+The sound of the rain had long ceased. There was the noise of a
+gathering wind.
+
+"Then in went a lot of others," Clarence was saying. "And they all
+shouted out 'Zuleika!' just like he did. Then a lot more went in.
+First I thought it was some sort of fun. Not it!" And he told how, by
+inquiries further down the river, he had learned the extent of the
+disaster. "Hundreds and hundreds of them--ALL of them," he summed up.
+"And all for the love of HER," he added, as with a sulky salute to
+Romance.
+
+Mrs. Batch had risen from her chair, the better to cope with such
+magnitude. She stood with wide-spread arms, silent, gaping. She
+seemed, by sheer force of sympathy, to be expanding to the dimensions
+of a crowd.
+
+Intensive Katie recked little of all these other deaths. "I only
+know," she said, "that he hated her."
+
+"Hundreds and hundreds--ALL," intoned Mrs. Batch, then gave a sudden
+start, as having remembered something. Mr. Noaks! He, too! She
+staggered to the door, leaving her actual offspring to their own
+devices, and went heavily up the stairs, her mind scampering again
+before her. . . . If he was safe and sound, dear young gentleman,
+heaven be praised! and she would break the awful news to him, very
+gradually. If not, there was another "family" to be solaced; "I'm a
+mother myself, Mrs. Noaks" . . .
+
+The sitting-room door was closed. Twice did Mrs. Batch tap on the
+panel, receiving no answer. She went in, gazed around in the dimness,
+sighed deeply, and struck a match. Conspicuous on the table lay a
+piece of paper. She bent to examine it. A piece of lined paper, torn
+from an exercise book, it was neatly inscribed with the words "What is
+Life without Love?" The final word and the note of interrogation were
+somewhat blurred, as by a tear. The match had burnt itself out. The
+landlady lit another, and read the legend a second time, that she
+might take in the full pathos of it. Then she sat down in the arm-
+chair. For some minutes she wept there. Then, having no more, tears,
+she went out on tip-toe, closing the door very quietly.
+
+As she descended the last flight of stairs, her daughter had just shut
+the front-door, and was coming along the hall.
+
+"Poor Mr. Noaks--he's gone," said the mother.
+
+"Has he?" said Katie listlessly.
+
+"Yes he has, you heartless girl. What's that you've got in your hand?
+Why, if it isn't the black-leading! And what have you been doing with
+that?"
+
+"Let me alone, mother, do," said poor Katie. She had done her lowly
+task. She had expressed her mourning, as best she could, there where
+she had been wont to express her love.
+
+
+XXI
+
+And Zuleika? She had done a wise thing, and was where it was best that
+she should be.
+
+Her face lay upturned on the water's surface, and round it were the
+masses of her dark hair, half floating, half submerged. Her eyes were
+closed, and her lips were parted. Not Ophelia in the brook could have
+seemed more at peace.
+
+          "Like a creature native and indued
+     Unto that element,"
+tranquil Zuleika lay.
+
+Gently to and fro her tresses drifted on the water, or under the water
+went ever ravelling and unravelling. Nothing else of her stirred.
+
+What to her now the loves that she had inspired and played on? the
+lives lost for her? Little thought had she now of them. Aloof she lay.
+
+Steadily rising from the water was a thick vapour that turned to dew
+on the window-pane. The air was heavy with scent of violets. These are
+the flowers of mourning; but their scent here and now signified
+nothing; for Eau de Violettes was the bath-essence that Zuleika always
+had.
+
+The bath-room was not of the white-gleaming kind to which she was
+accustomed. The walls were papered, not tiled, and the bath itself was
+of japanned tin, framed in mahogany. These things, on the evening of
+her arrival at the Warden's, had rather distressed her. But she was
+the better able to bear them because of that well-remembered past when
+a bath-room was in itself a luxury pined for--days when a not-large
+and not-full can of not-hot water, slammed down at her bedroom door by
+a governess-resenting housemaid, was as much as the gods allowed her.
+And there was, to dulcify for her the bath of this evening, the yet
+sharper contrast with the plight she had just come home in, sopped,
+shivering, clung to by her clothes. Because this bath was not a mere
+luxury, but a necessary precaution, a sure means of salvation from
+chill, she did the more gratefully bask in it, till Melisande came
+back to her, laden with warmed towels.
+
+A few minutes before eight o'clock she was fully ready to go down to
+dinner, with even more than the usual glow of health, and hungry
+beyond her wont.
+
+Yet, as she went down, her heart somewhat misgave her. Indeed, by
+force of the wide experience she had had as a governess, she never did
+feel quite at her ease when she was staying in a private house: the
+fear of not giving satisfaction haunted her; she was always on her
+guard; the shadow of dismissal absurdly hovered. And to-night she
+could not tell herself, as she usually did, not to be so silly. If her
+grandfather knew already the motive by which those young men had been
+actuated, dinner with him might be a rather strained affair. He might
+tell her, in so many words, that he wished he had not invited her to
+Oxford.
+
+Through the open door of the drawing room she saw him, standing
+majestic, draped in a voluminous black gown. Her instinct was to run
+away; but this she conquered. She went straight in, remembering not to
+smile.
+
+"Ah, ah," said the Warden, shaking a forefinger at her with old-world
+playfulness. "And what have you to say for yourself?"
+
+Relieved, she was also a trifle shocked. Was it possible that he, a
+responsible old man, could take things so lightly?
+
+"Oh, grand-papa," she answered, hanging her head, "what CAN I say? It
+is--it is too, too, dreadful."
+
+"There, there, my dear. I was but jesting. If you have had an
+agreeable time, you are forgiven for playing truant. Where have you
+been all day?"
+
+She saw that she had misjudged him. "I have just come from the river,"
+she said gravely.
+
+"Yes? And did the College make its fourth bump to-night?"
+
+"I--I don't know, grand-papa. There was so much happening. It--I will
+tell you all about it at dinner."
+
+"Ah, but to-night," he said, indicating his gown, "I cannot be with
+you. The bump-supper, you know. I have to preside in Hall."
+
+Zuleika had forgotten there was to be a bump-supper, and, though she
+was not very sure what a bump-supper was, she felt it would be a
+mockery to-night.
+
+"But grand-papa--" she began.
+
+"My dear, I cannot dissociate myself from the life of the College.
+And, alas," he said, looking at the clock, "I must leave you now. As
+soon as you have finished dinner, you might, if you would care to,
+come and peep down at us from the gallery. There is apt to be some
+measure of noise and racket, but all of it good-humoured and--boys
+will be boys--pardonable. Will you come?"
+
+"Perhaps, grand-papa," she said awkwardly. Left alone, she hardly knew
+whether to laugh or cry. In a moment, the butler came to her rescue,
+telling her that dinner was served.
+
+As the figure of the Warden emerged from Salt Cellar into the Front
+Quadrangle, a hush fell on the group of gowned Fellows outside the
+Hall. Most of them had only just been told the news, and (such is the
+force of routine in an University) were still sceptical of it. And in
+face of these doubts the three or four dons who had been down at the
+river were now half ready to believe that there must, after all, be
+some mistake, and that in this world of illusions they had to-night
+been specially tricked. To rebut this theory, there was the notable
+absence of undergraduates. Or was this an illusion, too? Men of
+thought, agile on the plane of ideas, devils of fellows among books,
+they groped feebly in this matter of actual life and death. The sight
+of their Warden heartened them. After all, he was the responsible
+person. He was father of the flock that had strayed, and grandfather
+of the beautiful Miss Zuleika.
+
+Like her, they remembered not to smile in greeting him.
+
+"Good evening, gentlemen," he said. "The storm seems to have passed."
+
+There was a murmur of "Yes, Warden."
+
+"And how did our boat acquit itself?"
+
+There was a shuffling pause. Every one looked at the Sub-Warden:
+it was manifestly for him to break the news, or to report the
+hallucination. He was nudged forward--a large man, with a large
+beard at which he plucked nervously.
+
+"Well, really, Warden," he said, "we--we hardly know,"* and he ended
+with what can only be described as a giggle. He fell low in the esteem
+of his fellows.
+
+
+   *Those of my readers who are interested in athletic sports will
+    remember the long controversy that raged as to whether Judas had
+    actually bumped Magdalen; and they will not need to be minded that
+    it was mainly through the evidence of Mr. E. T. A. Cook, who had
+    been on the towing-path at the time, that the 0. U. B. C. decided
+    the point in Judas' favour, and fixed the order of the boats for
+    the following year accordingly.
+
+
+Thinking of that past Sub-Warden whose fame was linked with the
+sun-dial, the Warden eyed this one keenly.
+
+"Well, gentlemen," he presently said, "our young men seem to be
+already at table. Shall we follow their example?" And he led the way
+up the steps.
+
+Already at table? The dons' dubiety toyed with this hypothesis. But
+the aspect of the Hall's interior was hard to explain away. Here were
+the three long tables, stretching white towards the dais, and laden
+with the usual crockery and cutlery, and with pots of flowers in
+honour of the occasion. And here, ranged along either wall, was the
+usual array of scouts, motionless, with napkins across their arms. But
+that was all.
+
+It became clear to the Warden that some organised prank or protest
+was afoot. Dignity required that he should take no heed whatsoever.
+Looking neither to the right nor to the left, stately he approached
+the dais, his Fellows to heel.
+
+In Judas, as in other Colleges, grace before meat is read by the
+Senior Scholar. The Judas grace (composed, they say, by Christopher
+Whitrid himself) is noted for its length and for the excellence of its
+Latinity. Who was to read it to-night? The Warden, having searched his
+mind vainly for a precedent, was driven to create one.
+
+"The Junior Fellow," he said, "will read grace."
+
+Blushing to the roots of his hair, and with crablike gait, Mr. Pedby,
+the Junior Fellow, went and unhooked from the wall that little shield
+of wood on which the words of the grace are carven. Mr. Pedby was--Mr.
+Pedby is--a mathematician. His treatise on the Higher Theory of Short
+Division by Decimals had already won for him an European reputation.
+Judas was--Judas is--proud of Pedby. Nor is it denied that in
+undertaking the duty thrust on him he quickly controlled his nerves
+and read the Latin out in ringing accents. Better for him had he not
+done so. The false quantities he made were so excruciating and so many
+that, while the very scouts exchanged glances, the dons at the high
+table lost all command of their features, and made horrible noises in
+the effort to contain themselves. The very Warden dared not look from
+his plate.
+
+In every breast around the high table, behind every shirt-front or
+black silk waistcoat, glowed the recognition of a new birth. Suddenly,
+unheralded, a thing of highest destiny had fallen into their academic
+midst. The stock of Common Room talk had to-night been re-inforced and
+enriched for all time. Summers and winters would come and go, old
+faces would vanish, giving place to new, but the story of Pedby's
+grace would be told always. Here was a tradition that generations of
+dons yet unborn would cherish and chuckle over. Something akin to awe
+mingled itself with the subsiding merriment. And the dons, having
+finished their soup, sipped in silence the dry brown sherry.
+
+Those who sat opposite to the Warden, with their backs to the void,
+were oblivious of the matter that had so recently teased them. They
+were conscious only of an agreeable hush, in which they peered down
+the vistas of the future, watching the tradition of Pedby's grace as
+it rolled brighter and ever brighter down to eternity.
+
+The pop of a champagne cork startled them to remembrance that this was
+a bump-supper, and a bump-supper of a peculiar kind. The turbot that
+came after the soup, the champagne that succeeded the sherry, helped
+to quicken in these men of thought the power to grapple with a
+reality. The aforesaid three or four who had been down at the river
+recovered their lost belief in the evidence of their eyes and ears.
+In the rest was a spirit of receptivity which, as the meal went on,
+mounted to conviction. The Sub-Warden made a second and more
+determined attempt to enlighten the Warden; but the Warden's eye met
+his with a suspicion so cruelly pointed that he again floundered and
+gave in.
+
+All adown those empty other tables gleamed the undisturbed cutlery,
+and the flowers in the pots innocently bloomed. And all adown either
+wall, unneeded but undisbanded, the scouts remained. Some of the elder
+ones stood with closed eyes and heads sunk forward, now and again
+jerking themselves erect, and blinking around, wondering, remembering.
+
+And for a while this scene was looked down on by a not disinterested
+stranger. For a while, her chin propped on her hands, Zuleika leaned
+over the rail of the gallery, just as she had lately leaned over the
+barge's rail, staring down and along. But there was no spark of
+triumph now in her eyes; only a deep melancholy; and in her mouth a
+taste as of dust and ashes. She thought of last night, and of all the
+buoyant life that this Hall had held. Of the Duke she thought, and of
+the whole vivid and eager throng of his fellows in love. Her will,
+their will, had been done. But. there rose to her lips the old, old
+question that withers victory--"To what end?"  Her eyes ranged along
+the tables, and an appalling sense of loneliness swept over her. She
+turned away, wrapping the folds of her cloak closer across her breast.
+Not in this College only, but through and through Oxford, there was no
+heart that beat for her--no, not one, she told herself, with that
+instinct for self-torture which comes to souls in torment. She was
+utterly alone to-night in the midst of a vast indifference. She! She!
+Was it possible? Were the gods so merciless? Ah no, surely . . .
+
+Down at the high table the feast drew to its close, and very different
+was the mood of the feasters from that of the young woman whose glance
+had for a moment rested on their unromantic heads. Generations of
+undergraduates had said that Oxford would be all very well but for the
+dons. Do you suppose that the dons had had no answering sentiment?
+Youth is a very good thing to possess, no doubt; but it is a tiresome
+setting for maturity. Youth all around prancing, vociferating,
+mocking; callow and alien youth, having to be looked after and
+studied and taught, as though nothing but it mattered, term after
+term--and now, all of a sudden, in mid-term, peace, ataraxy, a
+profound and leisured stillness. No lectures to deliver to-morrow;
+no "essays" to hear and criticise; time for the unvexed pursuit of
+pure learning . . .
+
+As the Fellows passed out on their way to Common Room, there to tackle
+with a fresh appetite Pedby's grace, they paused, as was their wont,
+on the steps of the Hall, looking up at the sky, envisaging the
+weather. The wind had dropped. There was even a glimpse of the moon
+riding behind the clouds. And now, a solemn and plangent token of
+Oxford's perpetuity, the first stroke of Great Tom sounded.
+
+
+XXII
+
+Stroke by stroke, the great familiar monody of that incomparable
+curfew rose and fell in the stillness.
+
+Nothing of Oxford lingers more surely than it in the memory of Oxford
+men; and to one revisiting these groves nothing is more eloquent of
+that scrupulous historic economy whereby his own particular past is
+utilised as the general present and future. "All's as it was, all's as
+it will be," says Great Tom; and that is what he stubbornly said on
+the evening I here record.
+
+Stroke by measured and leisured stroke, the old euphonious clangour
+pervaded Oxford, spreading out over the meadows, along the river,
+audible in Iffley. But to the dim groups gathering and dispersing on
+either bank, and to the silent workers in the boats, the bell's
+message came softened, equivocal; came as a requiem for these dead.
+
+Over the closed gates of Iffley lock, the water gushed down, eager for
+the sacrament of the sea. Among the supine in the field hard by, there
+was one whose breast bore a faint-gleaming star. And bending over him,
+looking down at him with much love and pity in her eyes, was the shade
+of Nellie O'Mora, that "fairest witch," to whose memory he had to-day
+atoned.
+
+And yonder, "sitting upon the river-bank o'ergrown," with questioning
+eyes, was another shade, more habituated to these haunts--the shade
+known so well to bathers "in the abandoned lasher," and to dancers
+"around the Fyfield elm in May." At the bell's final stroke, the
+Scholar Gipsy rose, letting fall on the water his gathered wild-
+flowers, and passed towards Cumnor.
+
+And now, duly, throughout Oxford, the gates of the Colleges were
+closed, and closed were the doors of the lodging-houses. Every night,
+for many years, at this hour precisely, Mrs. Batch had come out from
+her kitchen, to turn the key in the front-door. The function had long
+ago become automatic. To-night, however, it was the cue for further
+tears. These did not cease at her return to the kitchen, where she
+had gathered about her some sympathetic neighbours--women of her own
+age and kind, capacious of tragedy; women who might be relied on;
+founts of ejaculation, wells of surmise, downpours of remembered
+premonitions.
+
+With his elbows on the kitchen table, and his knuckles to his brow,
+sat Clarence, intent on belated "prep." Even an eye-witness of
+disaster may pall if he repeat his story too often. Clarence had
+noted in the last recital that he was losing his hold on his
+audience. So now he sat committing to memory the names of the
+cantons of Switzerland, and waving aside with a harsh gesture
+such questions as were still put to him by the women.
+
+Katie had sought refuge in the need for "putting the gentlemen's rooms
+straight," against the arrival of the two families to-morrow. Duster
+in hand, and by the light of a single candle that barely survived the
+draught from the open window, she moved to and fro about the Duke's
+room, a wan and listless figure, casting queerest shadows on the
+ceiling. There were other candles that she might have lit, but this
+ambiguous gloom suited her sullen humour. Yes, I am sorry to say,
+Katie was sullen. She had not ceased to mourn the Duke; but it was
+even more anger than grief that she felt at his dying. She was as sure
+as ever that he had not loved Miss Dobson; but this only made it the
+more outrageous that he had died because of her. What was there in
+this woman that men should so demean themselves for her? Katie, as you
+know, had at first been unaffected by the death of the undergraduates
+at large. But, because they too had died for Zuleika, she was bitterly
+incensed against them now. What could they have admired in such a
+woman? She didn't even look like a lady. Katie caught the dim
+reflection of herself in the mirror. She took the candle from the
+table, and examined the reflection closely. She was sure she was just
+as pretty as Miss Dobson. It was only the clothes that made the
+difference--the clothes and the behaviour. Katie threw back her head,
+and smiled brilliantly, hand on hip. She nodded reassuringly at
+herself; and the black pearl and the pink danced a duet. She put the
+candle down, and undid her hair, roughly parting it on one side, and
+letting it sweep down over the further eyebrow. She fixed it in that
+fashion, and posed accordingly. Now! But gradually her smile relaxed,
+and a mist came to her eyes. For she had to admit that even so, after
+all, she hadn't just that something which somehow Miss Dobson had. She
+put away from her the hasty dream she had had of a whole future
+generation of undergraduates drowning themselves, every one, in honour
+of her. She went wearily on with her work.
+
+Presently, after a last look round, she went up the creaking stairs,
+to do Mr. Noaks' room.
+
+She found on the table that screed which her mother had recited so
+often this evening. She put it in the waste-paper basket.
+
+Also on the table were a lexicon, a Thucydides, and some note-books.
+These she took and shelved without a tear for the closed labours they
+bore witness to.
+
+The next disorder that met her eye was one that gave her
+pause--seemed, indeed, to transfix her.
+
+Mr. Noaks had never, since he came to lodge here, possessed more than
+one pair of boots. This fact had been for her a lasting source of
+annoyance; for it meant that she had to polish Mr. Noaks' boots always
+in the early morning, when there were so many other things to be done,
+instead of choosing her own time. Her annoyance had been all the
+keener because Mr. Noaks' boots more than made up in size for what
+they lacked in number. Either of them singly took more time and polish
+than any other pair imaginable. She would have recognised them, at a
+glance, anywhere. Even so now, it was at a glance that she recognised
+the toes of them protruding from beneath the window-curtain. She
+dismissed the theory that Mr. Noaks might have gone utterly unshod to
+the river. She scouted the hypothesis that his ghost could be shod
+thus. By process of elimination she arrived at the truth. "Mr. Noaks,"
+she said quietly, "come out of there."
+
+There was a slight quiver of the curtain; no more. Katie repeated her
+words. There was a pause, then a convulsion of the curtain. Noaks
+stood forth.
+
+Always, in polishing his boots, Katie had found herself thinking of
+him as a man of prodigious stature, well though she knew him to be
+quite tiny. Even so now, at recognition of his boots, she had fixed
+her eyes to meet his, when he should emerge, a full yard too high.
+With a sharp drop she focussed him.
+
+"By what right," he asked, "do you come prying about my room?"
+
+This was a stroke so unexpected that it left Katie mute. It equally
+surprised Noaks, who had been about to throw himself on his knees and
+implore this girl not to betray him. He was quick, though, to clinch
+his advantage.
+
+"This," he said, "is the first time I have caught you. Let it be the
+last."
+
+Was this the little man she had so long despised, and so
+superciliously served? His very smallness gave him an air of
+concentrated force. She remembered having read that all the
+greatest men in history had been of less than the middle height.
+And--oh, her heart leapt--here was the one man who had scorned
+to die for Miss Dobson. He alone had held out against the folly
+of his fellows. Sole and splendid survivor he stood, rock-footed,
+before her. And impulsively she abased herself, kneeling at his
+feet as at the great double altar of some dark new faith.
+
+"You are great, sir, you are wonderful," she said, gazing up to him,
+rapt. It was the first time she had ever called him "sir."
+
+It is easier, as Michelet suggested, for a woman to change her opinion
+of a man than for him to change his opinion of himself. Noaks, despite
+the presence of mind he had shown a few moments ago, still saw himself
+as he had seen himself during the past hours: that is, as an arrant
+little coward--one who by his fear to die had put himself outside the
+pale of decent manhood. He had meant to escape from the house at dead
+of night and, under an assumed name, work his passage out to Australia
+--a land which had always made strong appeal to his imagination. No
+one, he had reflected, would suppose because his body was not
+retrieved from the water that he had not perished with the rest.
+And he had looked to Australia to make a man of him yet: in Encounter
+Bay, perhaps, or in the Gulf of Carpentaria, he might yet end nobly.
+
+Thus Katie's behaviour was as much an embarrassment as a relief; and
+he asked her in what way he was great and wonderful.
+
+"Modest, like all heroes!" she cried, and, still kneeling, proceeded
+to sing his praises with a so infectious fervour that Noaks did begin
+to feel he had done a fine thing in not dying. After all, was it not
+moral cowardice as much as love that had tempted him to die? He had
+wrestled with it, thrown it. "Yes," said he, when her rhapsody was
+over, "perhaps I am modest."
+
+"And that is why you hid yourself just now?"
+
+"Yes," he gladly said. "I hid myself for the same reason," he added,
+"when I heard your mother's footstep."
+
+"But," she faltered, with a sudden doubt, "that bit of writing which
+Mother found on the table--"
+
+"That? Oh, that was only a general reflection, copied out of a book."
+
+"Oh, won't poor Mother be glad when she knows!"
+
+"I don't want her to know," said Noaks, with a return of nervousness.
+"You mustn't tell any one. I--the fact is--"
+
+"Ah, that is so like you!" the girl said tenderly. "I suppose it was
+your modesty that all this while blinded me. Please, sir, I have a
+confession to make to you. Never till to-night have I loved you."
+
+Exquisite was the shock of these words to one who, not without reason,
+had always assumed that no woman would ever love him. Before he knew
+what he was doing, he had bent down and kissed the sweet upturned
+face. It was the first kiss he had ever given outside his family
+circle. It was an artless and a resounding kiss.
+
+He started back, dazed. What manner of man, he wondered, was he? A
+coward, piling profligacy on poltroonery? Or a hero, claiming
+exemption from moral law? What was done could not be undone; but it
+could be righted. He drew off from the little finger of his left hand
+that iron ring which, after a twinge of rheumatism, he had to-day
+resumed.
+
+"Wear it," he said.
+
+"You mean--?" She leapt to her feet.
+
+"That we are engaged. I hope you don't think we have any choice?"
+
+She clapped her hands, like the child she was, and adjusted the ring.
+
+"It is very pretty," she said.
+
+"It is very simple," he answered lightly. "But," he added, with a
+change of tone, "it is very durable. And that is the important thing.
+For I shall not be in a position to marry before I am forty."
+
+A shadow of disappointment hovered over Katie's clear young brow, but
+was instantly chased away by the thought that to be engaged was almost
+as splendid as to be married.
+
+"Recently," said her lover, "I meditated leaving Oxford for Australia.
+But now that you have come into my life, I am compelled to drop that
+notion, and to carve out the career I had first set for myself. A year
+hence, if I get a Second in Greats--and I SHALL" he said, with a
+fierce look that entranced her--"I shall have a very good chance of an
+assistant-mastership in a good private school. In eighteen years, if I
+am careful--and, with you waiting for me, I SHALL be careful--my
+savings will enable me to start a small school of my own, and to take
+a wife. Even then it would be more prudent to wait another five years,
+no doubt. But there was always a streak of madness in the Noakses. I
+say 'Prudence to the winds!'"
+
+"Ah, don't say that!" exclaimed Katie, laying a hand on his sleeve.
+
+"You are right. Never hesitate to curb me. And," he said, touching the
+ring, "an idea has just occurred to me. When the time comes, let this
+be the wedding-ring. Gold is gaudy--not at all the thing for a
+schoolmaster's bride. It is a pity," he muttered, examining her
+through his spectacles, "that your hair is so golden. A schoolmaster's
+bride should--Good heavens! Those ear-rings! Where did you get THEM?"
+
+"They were given to me to-day," Katie faltered. "The Duke gave me
+them."
+
+"Indeed?"
+
+"Please, sir, he gave me them as a memento."
+
+"And that memento shall immediately be handed over to his executors."
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"I should think so!" was on the tip of Noaks' tongue, but suddenly he
+ceased to see the pearls as trinkets finite and inapposite--saw them,
+in a flash, as things transmutable by sale hereafter into desks,
+forms, black-boards, maps, lockers, cubicles, gravel soil, diet
+unlimited, and special attention to backward pupils. Simultaneously,
+he saw how mean had been his motive for repudiating the gift. What
+more despicable than jealousy of a man deceased? What sillier than to
+cast pearls before executors? Sped by nothing but the pulse of his hot
+youth, he had wooed and won this girl. Why flinch from her unsought
+dowry?
+
+He told her his vision. Her eyes opened wide to it. "And oh," she
+cried, "then we can be married as soon as you take your degree!"
+
+He bade her not be so foolish. Who ever heard of a head-master aged
+three-and-twenty? What parent or guardian would trust a stripling? The
+engagement must run its course. "And," he said, fidgeting, "do you
+know that I have hardly done any reading to-day?"
+
+"You want to read NOW--TO-NIGHT?"
+
+"I must put in a good two hours. Where are the books that were on my
+table?"
+
+Reverently--he was indeed a king of men--she took the books down from
+the shelf, and placed them where she had found them. And she knew not
+which thrilled her the more--the kiss he gave her at parting, or the
+tone in which he told her that the one thing he could not and would
+not stand was having his books disturbed.
+
+Still less than before attuned to the lugubrious session downstairs,
+she went straight up to her attic, and did a little dance there in the
+dark. She threw open the lattice of the dormer-window, and leaned out,
+smiling, throbbing.
+
+The Emperors, gazing up, saw her happy, and wondered; saw Noaks' ring
+on her finger, and would fain have shaken their grey heads.
+
+Presently she was aware of a protrusion from the window beneath hers.
+The head of her beloved! Fondly she watched it, wished she could reach
+down to stroke it. She loved him for having, after all, left his
+books. It was sweet to be his excuse. Should she call softly to him?
+No, it might shame him to be caught truant. He had already chidden her
+for prying. So she did but gaze down on his head silently, wondering
+whether in eighteen years it would be bald, wondering whether her own
+hair would still have the fault of being golden. Most of all, she
+wondered whether he loved her half so much as she loved him.
+
+This happened to be precisely what he himself was wondering. Not that
+he wished himself free. He was one of those in whom the will does not,
+except under very great pressure, oppose the conscience. What pressure
+here? Miss Batch was a superior girl; she would grace any station in
+life. He had always been rather in awe of her. It was a fine thing to
+be suddenly loved by her, to be in a position to over-rule her every
+whim. Plighting his troth, he had feared she would be an encumbrance,
+only to find she was a lever. But--was he deeply in love with her?
+How was it that he could not at this moment recall her features, or
+the tone of her voice, while of deplorable Miss Dobson, every
+lineament, every accent, so vividly haunted him? Try as he would to
+beat off these memories, he failed, and--some very great pressure
+here!--was glad he failed; glad though he found himself relapsing to
+the self-contempt from which Miss Batch had raised him. He scorned
+himself for being alive. And again, he scorned himself for his
+infidelity. Yet he was glad he could not forget that face, that
+voice--that queen. She had smiled at him when she borrowed the ring.
+She had said "Thank you." Oh, and now, at this very moment, sleeping
+or waking, actually she was somewhere--she! herself! This was an
+incredible, an indubitable, an all-magical fact for the little fellow.
+
+From the street below came a faint cry that was as the cry of his own
+heart, uttered by her own lips. Quaking, he peered down, and dimly
+saw, over the way, a cloaked woman.
+
+She--yes, it was she herself--came gliding to the middle of the road,
+gazing up at him.
+
+"At last!" he heard her say. His instinct was to hide himself from the
+queen he had not died for. Yet he could not move.
+
+"Or," she quavered, "are you a phantom sent to mock me? Speak!"
+
+"Good evening," he said huskily.
+
+"I knew," she murmured, "I knew the gods were not so cruel. Oh man of
+my need," she cried, stretching out her arms to him, "oh heaven-sent,
+I see you only as a dark outline against the light of your room. But I
+know you. Your name is Noaks, isn't it? Dobson is mine. I am your
+Warden's grand-daughter. I am faint and foot-sore. I have ranged this
+desert city in search of--of YOU. Let me hear from your own lips that
+you love me. Tell me in your own words--" She broke off with a little
+scream, and did not stand with forefinger pointed at him, gazing,
+gasping.
+
+"Listen, Miss Dobson," he stammered, writhing under what he took to be
+the lash of her irony. "Give me time to explain. You see me here--"
+
+"Hush," she cried, "man of my greater, my deeper and nobler need! Oh
+hush, ideal which not consciously I was out for to-night--ideal
+vouchsafed to me by a crowning mercy! I sought a lover, I find a
+master. I sought but a live youth, was blind to what his survival
+would betoken. Oh master, you think me light and wicked. You stare
+coldly down at me through your spectacles, whose glint I faintly
+discern now that the moon peeps forth. You would be readier to forgive
+me the havoc I have wrought if you could for the life of you
+understand what charm your friends found in me. You marvel, as at the
+skull of Helen of Troy. No, you don't think me hideous: you simply
+think me plain. There was a time when I thought YOU plain--you whose
+face, now that the moon shines full on it, is seen to be of a beauty
+that is flawless without being insipid. Oh that I were a glove upon
+that hand, that I might touch that cheek! You shudder at the notion of
+such contact. My voice grates on you. You try to silence me with
+frantic though exquisite gestures, and with noises inarticulate but
+divine. I bow to your will, master. Chasten me with your tongue."
+
+"I am not what you think me," gibbered Noaks. "I was not afraid to die
+for you. I love you. I was on my way to the river this afternoon, but
+I--I tripped and sprained my ankle, and--and jarred my spine. They
+carried me back here. I am still very weak. I can't put my foot to the
+ground. As soon as I can--"
+
+Just then Zuleika heard a little sharp sound which, for the fraction
+of an instant, before she knew it to be a clink of metal on the
+pavement, she thought was the breaking of the heart within her.
+Looking quickly down, she heard a shrill girlish laugh aloft. Looking
+quickly up, she descried at the unlit window above her lover's a face
+which she remembered as that of the land-lady's daughter.
+
+"Find it, Miss Dobson," laughed the girl. "Crawl for it. It can't have
+rolled far, and it's the only engagement-ring you'll get from HIM,"
+she said, pointing to the livid face twisted painfully up at her from
+the lower window. "Grovel for it, Miss Dobson. Ask him to step down
+and help you. Oh, he can! That was all lies about his spine and ankle.
+Afraid, that's what he was--I see it all now--afraid of the water. I
+wish you'd found him as I did--skulking behind the curtain. Oh, you're
+welcome to him."
+
+"Don't listen," Noaks cried down. "Don't listen to that person. I
+admit I have trifled with her affections. This is her revenge--these
+wicked untruths--these--these--"
+
+Zuleika silenced him with a gesture. "Your tone to me," she said up to
+Katie, "is not without offence; but the stamp of truth is on what you
+tell me. We have both been deceived in this man, and are, in some
+sort, sisters."
+
+"Sisters?" cried Katie. "Your sisters are the snake and the spider,
+though neither of them wishes it known. I loathe you. And the Duke
+loathed you, too."
+
+"What's that?" gasped Zuleika.
+
+"Didn't he tell you? He told me. And I warrant he told you, too."
+
+"He died for love of me: d'you hear?"
+
+"Ah, you'd like people to think so, wouldn't you? Does a man who loves
+a woman give away the keepsake she gave him? Look!" Katie leaned
+forward, pointing to her ear-rings. "He loved ME," she cried. He put
+them in with his own hands--told me to wear them always. And he kissed
+me--kissed me good-bye in the street, where every one could see. He
+kissed me," she sobbed. "No other man shall ever do that."
+
+"Ah, that he did!" said a voice level with Zuleika. It was the voice
+of Mrs. Batch, who a few moments ago had opened the door for her
+departing guests.
+
+"Ah, that he did!" echoed the guests.
+
+"Never mind them, Miss Dobson," cried Noaks, and at the sound of his
+voice Mrs. Batch rushed into the middle of the road, to gaze up. "_I_
+love you. Think what you will of me. I--"
+
+"You!" flashed Zuleika. "As for you, little Sir Lily Liver, leaning
+out there, and, I frankly tell you, looking like nothing so much as
+a gargoyle hewn by a drunken stone-mason for the adornment of a
+Methodist Chapel in one of the vilest suburbs of Leeds or Wigan, I do
+but felicitate the river-god and his nymphs that their water was saved
+to-day by your cowardice from the contamination of your plunge."
+
+"Shame on you, Mr. Noaks," said Mrs. Batch, "making believe you were
+dead--"
+
+"Shame!" screamed Clarence, who had darted out into the fray.
+
+"I found him hiding behind the curtain," chimed in Katie.
+
+"And I a mother to him!" said Mrs. Batch, shaking her fist. "'What is
+life without love?' indeed! Oh, the cowardly, underhand--"
+
+"Wretch," prompted her cronies.
+
+"Let's kick him out of the house!" suggested Clarence, dancing for
+joy.
+
+Zuleika, smiling brilliantly down at the boy, said "Just you run up
+and fight him!"
+
+"Right you are," he answered, with a look of knightly devotion, and
+darted back into the house.
+
+"No escape!" she cried up to Noaks. "You've got to fight him now. He
+and you are just about evenly matched, I fancy."
+
+But, grimly enough, Zuleika's estimate was never put to the test. Is
+it harder for a coward to fight with his fists than to kill himself?
+Or again, is it easier for him to die than to endure a prolonged
+cross-fire of women's wrath and scorn? This I know: that in the life
+of even the least and meanest of us there is somewhere one fine
+moment--one high chance not missed. I like to think it was by
+operation of this law that Noaks had now clambered out upon the
+window-sill, silencing, sickening, scattering like chaff the women
+beneath him.
+
+He was already not there when Clarence bounded into the room. "Come
+on!" yelled the boy, first thrusting his head behind the door, then
+diving beneath the table, then plucking aside either window-curtain,
+vowing vengeance.
+
+Vengeance was not his. Down on the road without, not yet looked at but
+by the steadfast eyes of the Emperors, the last of the undergraduates
+lay dead; and fleet-footed Zuleika, with her fingers still pressed to
+her ears, had taken full toll now.
+
+
+XXIII
+
+Twisting and turning in her flight, with wild eyes that fearfully
+retained the image of that small man gathering himself to spring,
+Zuleika found herself suddenly where she could no further go.
+
+She was in that grim ravine by which you approach New College. At
+sight of the great shut gate before her, she halted, and swerved to
+the wall. She set her brow and the palms of her hands against the cold
+stones. She threw back her head, and beat the stones with her fists.
+
+It was not only what she had seen, it was what she had barely saved
+herself from seeing, and what she had not quite saved herself from
+hearing, that she strove so piteously to forget. She was sorrier for
+herself, angrier, than she had been last night when the Duke laid
+hands on her. Why should every day have a horrible ending? Last night
+she had avenged herself. To-night's outrage was all the more foul and
+mean because of its certain immunity. And the fact that she had in
+some measure brought it on herself did but whip her rage. What a fool
+she had been to taunt the man! Yet no, how could she have foreseen
+that he would--do THAT? How could she have guessed that he, who had
+not dared seemly death for her in the gentle river, would dare--THAT?
+
+She shuddered the more as she now remembered that this very day, in
+that very house, she had invited for her very self a similar fate.
+What if the Duke had taken her word? Strange! she wouldn't have
+flinched then. She had felt no horror at the notion of such a death.
+And thus she now saw Noaks' conduct in a new light--saw that he
+had but wished to prove his love, not at all to affront her. This
+understanding quickly steadied her nerves. She did not need now to
+forget what she had seen; and, not needing to forget it--thus are
+our brains fashioned--she was able to forget it.
+
+But by removal of one load her soul was but bared for a more grievous
+other. Her memory harked back to what had preceded the crisis. She
+recalled those moments of doomed rapture in which her heart had soared
+up to the apocalyptic window--recalled how, all the while she was
+speaking to the man there, she had been chafed by the inadequacy of
+language. Oh, how much more she had meant than she could express! Oh,
+the ecstasy of that self-surrender! And the brevity of it! the sudden
+odious awakening! Thrice in this Oxford she had been duped. Thrice all
+that was fine and sweet in her had leapt forth, only to be scourged
+back into hiding. Poor heart inhibited! She gazed about her. The stone
+alley she had come into, the terrible shut gate, were for her a
+visible symbol of the destiny she had to put up with. Wringing her
+hands, she hastened along the way she had come. She vowed she would
+never again set foot in Oxford. She wished herself out of the hateful
+little city to-night. She even wished herself dead.
+
+She deserved to suffer, you say? Maybe. I merely state that she did
+suffer.
+
+Emerging into Catherine Street, she knew whereabouts she was, and made
+straight for Judas, turning away her eyes as she skirted the Broad,
+that place of mocked hopes and shattered ideals.
+
+Coming into Judas Street, she remembered the scene of yesterday--the
+happy man with her, the noise of the vast happy crowd. She suffered in
+a worse form what she had suffered in the gallery of the Hall. For
+now--did I not say she was not without imagination?--her self-pity was
+sharpened by remorse for the hundreds of homes robbed. She realised
+the truth of what the poor Duke had once said to her: she was a danger
+in the world . . . Aye, and all the more dire now. What if the youth
+of all Europe were moved by Oxford's example? That was a horribly
+possible thing. It must be reckoned with. It must be averted. She must
+not show herself to men. She must find some hiding-place, and there
+abide. Were this a hardship? she asked herself. Was she not sickened
+for ever of men's homage? And was it not clear now that the absorbing
+need in her soul, the need to love, would never--except for a brief
+while, now and then, and by an unfortunate misunderstanding--be
+fulfilled?
+
+So long ago that you may not remember, I compared her favourably with
+the shepherdess Marcella, and pleaded her capacity for passion as an
+excuse for her remaining at large. I hope you will now, despite your
+rather evident animus against her, set this to her credit: that she
+did, so soon as she realised the hopelessness of her case, make just
+that decision which I blamed Marcella for not making at the outset. It
+was as she stood on the Warden's door-step that she decided to take
+the veil.
+
+With something of a conventual hush in her voice, she said to the
+butler, "Please tell my maid that we are leaving by a very early train
+to-morrow, and that she must pack my things to-night."
+
+"Very well, Miss," said the butler. "The Warden," he added, "is in the
+study, Miss, and was asking for you."
+
+She could face her grandfather without a tremour--now. She would hear
+meekly whatever reproaches he might have for her, but their sting was
+already drawn by the surprise she had in store for him.
+
+It was he who seemed a trifle nervous. In his
+
+"Well, did you come and peep down from the gallery?" there was a
+distinct tremour.
+
+Throwing aside her cloak, she went quickly to him, and laid a hand on
+the lapel of his coat. "Poor grand-papa!" she said.
+
+"Nonsense, my dear child," he replied, disengaging himself. "I didn't
+give it a thought. If the young men chose to be so silly as to stay
+away, I--I--"
+
+"Grand-papa, haven't you been told YET?"
+
+"Told? I am a Gallio for such follies. I didn't inquire."
+
+"But (forgive me, grand-papa, if I seem to you, for the moment, pert)
+you are Warden here. It is your duty, even your privilege, to GUARD.
+Is it not? Well, I grant you the adage that it is useless to bolt the
+stable door when the horse has been stolen. But what shall be said of
+the ostler who doesn't know--won't even 'inquire' whether--the horse
+HAS been stolen, grand-papa?"
+
+"You speak in riddles, Zuleika."
+
+"I wish with all my heart I need not tell you the answers. I think I
+have a very real grievance against your staff--or whatever it is you
+call your subordinates here. I go so far as to dub them dodderers. And
+I shall the better justify that term by not shirking the duty they
+have left undone. The reason why there were no undergraduates in your
+Hall to-night is that they were all dead."
+
+"Dead?" he gasped. "Dead? It is disgraceful that I was not told. What
+did they die of?"
+
+"Of me."
+
+"Of you?"
+
+"Yes. I am an epidemic, grand-papa, a scourge, such as the world has
+not known. Those young men drowned themselves for love of me."
+
+He came towards her. "Do you realise, girl, what this means to me? I
+am an old man. For more than half a century I have known this College.
+To it, when my wife died, I gave all that there was of heart left in
+me. For thirty years I have been Warden; and in that charge has been
+all my pride. I have had no thought but for this great College, its
+honour and prosperity. More than once lately have I asked myself
+whether my eyes were growing dim, my hand less steady. 'No' was my
+answer, and again 'No.' And thus it is that I have lingered on to let
+Judas be struck down from its high eminence, shamed in the eyes of
+England--a College for ever tainted, and of evil omen." He raised his
+head. "The disgrace to myself is nothing. I care not how parents shall
+rage against me, and the Heads of other Colleges make merry over my
+decrepitude. It is because you have wrought the downfall of Judas that
+I am about to lay my undying curse on you."
+
+"You mustn't do that!" she cried. "It would be a sort of sacrilege. I
+am going to be a nun. Besides, why should you? I can quite well
+understand your feeling for Judas. But how is Judas more disgraced
+than any other College? If it were only the Judas undergraduates who
+had--"
+
+"There were others?" cried the Warden. "How many?"
+
+"All. All the boys from all the Colleges."
+
+The Warden heaved a deep sigh. "Of course," he said, "this changes the
+aspect of the whole matter. I wish you had made it clear at once. You
+gave me a very great shock," he said sinking into his arm-chair, "and
+I have not yet recovered. You must study the art of exposition."
+
+"That will depend on the rules of the convent."
+
+"Ah, I forgot that you were going into a convent. Anglican, I hope?"
+
+Anglican, she supposed.
+
+"As a young man," he said, "I saw much of dear old Dr. Pusey. It might
+have somewhat reconciled him to my marriage if he had known that my
+grand-daughter would take the veil." He adjusted his glasses, and
+looked at her. "Are you sure you have a vocation?"
+
+"Yes. I want to be out of the world. I want to do no more harm."
+
+He eyed her musingly. "That," he said, "is rather a revulsion than a
+vocation. I remember that I ventured to point out to Dr. Pusey the
+difference between those two things, when he was almost persuading me
+to enter a Brotherhood founded by one of his friends. It may be that
+the world would be well rid of you, my dear child. But it is not the
+world only that we must consider. Would you grace the recesses of the
+Church?"
+
+"I could but try," said Zuleika.
+
+"'You could but try' are the very words Dr. Pusey used to me. I
+ventured to say that in such a matter effort itself was a stigma of
+unfitness. For all my moods of revulsion, I knew that my place was in
+the world. I stayed there."
+
+"But suppose, grand-papa"--and, seeing in fancy the vast agitated
+flotilla of crinolines, she could not forbear a smile--"suppose all
+the young ladies of that period had drowned themselves for love of
+you?"
+
+Her smile seemed to nettle the Warden. "I was greatly admired," he
+said. "Greatly," he repeated.
+
+"And you liked that, grand-papa?"
+
+"Yes, my dear. Yes, I am afraid I did. But I never encouraged it."
+
+"Your own heart was never touched?"
+
+"Never, until I met Laura Frith."
+
+"Who was she?"
+
+"She was my future wife."
+
+"And how was it you singled her out from the rest? Was she very
+beautiful?"
+
+"No. It cannot be said that she was beautiful. Indeed, she was
+accounted plain. I think it was her great dignity that attracted me.
+She did not smile archly at me, nor shake her ringlets. In those days
+it was the fashion for young ladies to embroider slippers for such men
+in holy orders as best pleased their fancy. I received hundreds--
+thousands--of such slippers. But never a pair from Laura Frith."
+
+"She did not love you?" asked Zuleika, who had seated herself on the
+floor at her grandfather's feet.
+
+I concluded that she did not. It interested me very greatly. It fired
+me."
+
+"Was she incapable of love?"
+
+"No, it was notorious in her circle that she had loved often, but
+loved in vain."
+
+"Why did she marry you?"
+
+"I think she was fatigued by my importunities. She was not very
+strong. But it may be that she married me out of pique. She never
+told me. I did not inquire."
+
+"Yet you were very happy with her?"
+
+"While she lived, I was ideally happy."
+
+The young woman stretched out a hand, and laid it on the clasped hands
+of the old man. He sat gazing into the past. She was silent for a
+while; and in her eyes, still fixed intently on his face, there were
+tears.
+
+"Grand-papa dear"--but there were tears in her voice, too.
+
+"My child, you don't understand. If I had needed pity--"
+
+"I do understand--so well. I wasn't pitying you, dear, I was envying
+you a little."
+
+"Me?--an old man with only the remembrance of happiness?"
+
+"You, who have had happiness granted to you. That isn't what made me
+cry, though. I cried because I was glad. You and I, with all this
+great span of years between us, and yet--so wonderfully alike! I had
+always thought of myself as a creature utterly apart."
+
+"Ah, that is how all young people think of themselves. It wears off.
+Tell me about this wonderful resemblance of ours."
+
+He sat attentive while she described her heart to him. But when, at
+the close of her confidences, she said, "So you see it's a case of
+sheer heredity, grand-papa," the word "Fiddlesticks!" would out.
+
+"Forgive me, my dear," he said, patting her hand. "I was very much
+interested. But I do believe young people are even more staggered by
+themselves than they were in my day. And then, all these grand
+theories they fall back on! Heredity . . . as if there were something
+to baffle us in the fact of a young woman liking to be admired! And as
+if it were passing strange of her to reserve her heart for a man she
+can respect and look up to! And as if a man's indifference to her were
+not of all things the likeliest to give her a sense of inferiority to
+him! You and I, my dear, may in some respects be very queer people,
+but in the matter of the affections we are ordinary enough."
+
+"Oh grand-papa, do you really mean that?" she cried eagerly.
+
+"At my age, a man husbands his resources. He says nothing that he
+does not really mean. The indifference between you and other young
+women is that which lay also between me and other young men: a
+special attractiveness . . . Thousands of slippers, did I say? Tens
+of thousands. I had hoarded them with a fatuous pride. On the evening
+of my betrothal I made a bonfire of them, visible from three counties.
+I danced round it all night." And from his old eyes darted even now
+the reflections of those flames.
+
+"Glorious!" whispered Zuleika. "But ah," she said, rising to her feet,
+"tell me no more of it--poor me! You see, it isn't a mere special
+attractiveness that _I_ have. _I_ am irresistible."
+
+"A daring statement, my child--very hard to prove."
+
+"Hasn't it been proved up to the hilt to-day?"
+
+"To-day? . . Ah, and so they did really all drown themselves for you?
+. . Dear, dear! . . The Duke--he, too?"
+
+"He set the example."
+
+"No! You don't say so! He was a greatly-gifted young man--a true
+ornament to the College. But he always seemed to me rather--what shall
+I say?--inhuman . . . I remember now that he did seem rather excited
+when he came to the concert last night and you weren't yet there . . .
+You are quite sure you were the cause of his death?"
+
+"Quite," said Zuleika, marvelling at the lie--or fib, rather: he had
+been GOING to die for her. But why not have told the truth? Was it
+possible, she wondered, that her wretched vanity had survived her
+renunciation of the world? Why had she so resented just now the doubt
+cast on that irresistibility which had blighted and cranked her whole
+life?
+
+"Well, my dear," said the Warden, "I confess that I am amazed--
+astounded." Again he adjusted his glasses, and looked at her.
+
+She found herself moving slowly around the study, with the gait of a
+mannequin in a dress-maker's show-room. She tried to stop this; but
+her body seemed to be quite beyond control of her mind. It had the
+insolence to go ambling on its own account. "Little space you'll have
+in a convent cell," snarled her mind vindictively. Her body paid no
+heed whatever.
+
+Her grandfather, leaning back in his chair, gazed at the ceiling, and
+meditatively tapped the finger-tips of one hand against those of the
+other. "Sister Zuleika," he presently said to the ceiling.
+
+"Well? and what is there so--so ridiculous in"--but the rest was lost
+in trill after trill of laughter; and these were then lost in sobs.
+
+The Warden had risen from his chair. "My dear," he said, "I wasn't
+laughing. I was only--trying to imagine. If you really want to retire
+from--"
+
+"I do," moaned Zuleika.
+
+"Then perhaps--"
+
+"But I don't," she wailed.
+
+"Of course, you don't, my dear."
+
+"Why, of course?"
+
+"Come, you are tired, my poor child. That is very natural after this
+wonderful, this historic day. Come dry your eyes. There, that's
+better. To-morrow--"
+
+"I do believe you're a little proud of me."
+
+"Heaven forgive me, I believe I am. A grandfather's heart-- But there,
+good night, my dear. Let me light your candle."
+
+She took her cloak, and followed him out to the hall table. There she
+mentioned that she was going away early to-morrow.
+
+"To the convent?" he slyly asked.
+
+"Ah, don't tease me, grand-papa."
+
+"Well, I am sorry you are going away, my dear. But perhaps, in the
+circumstances, it is best. You must come and stay here again, later
+on," he said, handing her the lit candle. "Not in term-time, though,"
+he added.
+
+"No," she echoed, "not in term-time."
+
+
+XXIV
+
+From the shifting gloom of the stair-case to the soft radiance cast
+through the open door of her bedroom was for poor Zuleika an almost
+heartening transition. She stood awhile on the threshold, watching
+Melisande dart to and fro like a shuttle across a loom. Already the
+main part of the packing seemed to have been accomplished. The
+wardrobe was a yawning void, the carpet was here and there visible,
+many of the trunks were already brimming and foaming over . . . Once
+more on the road! Somewhat as, when beneath the stars the great tent
+had been struck, and the lions were growling in their vans, and the
+horses were pawing the stamped grass and whinnying, and the elephants
+trumpeting, Zuleika's mother may often have felt within her a wan
+exhilaration, so now did the heart of that mother's child rise and
+flutter amidst the familiar bustle of "being off." Weary she was of
+the world, and angry she was at not being, after all, good enough
+for something better. And yet--well, at least, good-bye to Oxford!
+
+She envied Melisande, so nimbly and cheerfully laborious till the day
+should come when her betrothed had saved enough to start a little cafe
+of his own and make her his bride and dame de comptoir. Oh, to have a
+purpose, a prospect, a stake in the world, as this faithful soul had!
+
+"Can I help you at all, Melisande?" she asked, picking her way across
+the strewn floor.
+
+Melisande, patting down a pile of chiffon, seemed to be amused at such
+a notion. "Mademoiselle has her own art. Do I mix myself in that?" she
+cried, waving one hand towards the great malachite casket.
+
+Zuleika looked at the casket, and then very gratefully at the maid.
+Her art--how had she forgotten that? Here was solace, purpose. She
+would work as she had never worked yet. She KNEW that she had it in
+her to do better than she had ever done. She confessed to herself that
+she had too often been slack in the matter of practice and rehearsal,
+trusting her personal magnetism to carry her through. Only last night
+she had badly fumbled, more than once. Her bravura business with the
+Demon Egg-Cup had been simply vile. The audience hadn't noticed
+it, perhaps, but she had. Now she would perfect herself. Barely a
+fortnight now before her engagement at the Folies Bergeres! What
+if--no, she must not think of that! But the thought insisted. What
+if she essayed for Paris that which again and again she had meant
+to graft on to her repertory--the Provoking Thimble?
+
+She flushed at the possibility. What if her whole present repertory
+were but a passing phase in her art--a mere beginning--an earlier
+manner? She remembered how marvellously last night she had manipulated
+the ear-rings and the studs. Then lo! the light died out of her eyes,
+and her face grew rigid. That memory had brought other memories in its
+wake.
+
+For her, when she fled the Broad, Noaks' window had blotted out all
+else. Now she saw again that higher window, saw that girl flaunting
+her ear-rings, gibing down at her. "He put them in with his own
+hands!"--the words rang again in her ears, making her cheeks tingle.
+Oh, he had thought it a very clever thing to do, no doubt--a splendid
+little revenge, something after his own heart! "And he kissed me in
+the open street"--excellent, excellent! She ground her teeth. And
+these doings must have been fresh in his mind when she overtook him
+and walked with him to the house-boat! Infamous! And she had then been
+wearing his studs! She drew his attention to them when--
+
+Her jewel-box stood open, to receive the jewels she wore to-night. She
+went very calmly to it. There, in a corner of the topmost tray, rested
+the two great white pearls--the pearls which, in one way and another,
+had meant so much to her.
+
+"Melisande!"
+
+"Mademoiselle?"
+
+"When we go to Paris, would you like to make a little present to your
+fiance?"
+
+"Je voudrais bien, mademoiselle."
+
+"Then you shall give him these," said Zuleika, holding out the two
+studs.
+
+"Mais jamais de la vie! Chez Tourtel tout le monde le dirait
+millionaire. Un garcon de cafe qui porte au plastron des perles
+pareilles--merci!"
+
+Tell him he may tell every one that they were given to me by the late
+Duke of Dorset, and given by me to you, and by you to him."
+
+"Mais--"  The protest died on Melisande's lips. Suddenly she had
+ceased to see the pearls as trinkets finite and inapposite--saw them
+as things presently transmutable into little marble tables, bocks,
+dominos, absinthes au sucre, shiny black portfolios with weekly
+journals in them, yellow staves with daily journals flapping from
+them, vermouths secs, vermouths cassis . . .
+
+"Mademoiselle is too amiable," she said, taking the pearls.
+
+And certainly, just then, Zuleika was looking very amiable indeed. The
+look was transient. Nothing, she reflected, could undo what the Duke
+had done. That hateful, impudent girl would take good care that every
+one should know. "He put them in with his own hands." HER ear-rings!
+"He kissed me in the public street. He loved me" . . . Well, he had
+called out "Zuleika!" and every one around had heard him. That was
+something. But how glad all the old women in the world would be to
+shake their heads and say "Oh, no, my dear, believe me! It wasn't
+anything to do with HER. I'm told on the very best authority," and
+so forth, and so on. She knew he had told any number of undergraduates
+he was going to die for her. But they, poor fellows, could not bear
+witness. And good heavens! If there were a doubt as to the Duke's
+motive, why not doubts as to theirs? . . But many of them had called
+out "Zuleika!" too. And of course any really impartial person who knew
+anything at all about the matter at first hand would be sure in his
+own mind that it was perfectly absurd to pretend that the whole thing
+wasn't entirely and absolutely for her . . . And of course some of the
+men must have left written evidence of their intention. She remembered
+that at The MacQuern's to-day was a Mr. Craddock, who had made a will
+in her favour and wanted to read it aloud to her in the middle of
+luncheon. Oh, there would be proof positive as to many of the men. But
+of the others it would be said that they died in trying to rescue
+their comrades. There would be all sorts of silly far-fetched
+theories, and downright lies that couldn't be disproved . . .
+
+"Melisande, that crackling of tissue paper is driving me mad! Do leave
+off! Can't you see that I am waiting to be undressed?"
+
+The maid hastened to her side, and with quick light fingers began to
+undress her. "Mademoiselle va bien dormir--ca se voit," she purred.
+
+"I shan't," said Zuleika.
+
+Nevertheless, it was soothing to be undressed, and yet more soothing
+anon to sit merely night-gowned before the mirror, while, slowly and
+gently, strongly and strand by strand, Melisande brushed her hair.
+
+After all, it didn't so much matter what the world thought. Let the
+world whisper and insinuate what it would. To slur and sully, to
+belittle and drag down--that was what the world always tried to do.
+But great things were still great, and fair things still fair. With no
+thought for the world's opinion had these men gone down to the water
+to-day. Their deed was for her and themselves alone. It had sufficed
+them. Should it not suffice her? It did, oh it did. She was a wretch
+to have repined.
+
+At a gesture from her, Melisande brought to a close the rhythmical
+ministrations, and--using no tissue paper this time--did what was yet
+to be done among the trunks.
+
+"WE know, you and I," Zuleika whispered to the adorable creature in
+the mirror; and the adorable creature gave back her nod and smile.
+
+THEY knew, these two.
+
+Yet, in their happiness, rose and floated a shadow between them. It
+was the ghost of that one man who--THEY knew--had died irrelevantly,
+with a cold heart.
+
+Came also the horrid little ghost of one who had died late and
+unseemly.
+
+And now, thick and fast, swept a whole multitude of other ghosts, the
+ghosts of all them who, being dead, could not die again; the poor
+ghosts of them who had done what they could, and could do no more.
+
+No more? Was it not enough? The lady in the mirror gazed at the lady
+in the room, reproachfully at first, then--for were they not sisters?
+--relentingly, then pityingly. Each of the two covered her face with
+her hands.
+
+And there recurred, as by stealth, to the lady in the room a thought
+that had assailed her not long ago in Judas Street . . . a thought
+about the power of example . . .
+
+And now, with pent breath and fast-beating heart, she stood staring at
+the lady of the mirror, without seeing her; and now she wheeled round
+and swiftly glided to that little table on which stood her two books.
+She snatched Bradshaw.
+
+We always intervene between Bradshaw and any one whom we see
+consulting him. "Mademoiselle will permit me to find that which
+she seeks?" asked Melisande.
+
+"Be quiet," said Zuleika. We always repulse, at first, any one who
+intervenes between us and Bradshaw.
+
+We always end by accepting the intervention. "See if it is possible to
+go direct from here to Cambridge," said Zuleika, handing the book on.
+"If it isn't, then--well, see how to get there."
+
+We never have any confidence in the intervener. Nor is the intervener,
+when it comes to the point, sanguine. With mistrust mounting to
+exasperation Zuleika sat watching the faint and frantic researches
+of her maid.
+
+"Stop!" she said suddenly. "I have a much better idea. Go down very
+early to the station. See the station-master. Order me a special
+train. For ten o'clock, say."
+
+Rising, she stretched her arms above her head. Her lips parted in a
+yawn, met in a smile. With both hands she pushed back her hair from
+her shoulders, and twisted it into a loose knot. Very lightly she
+slipped up into bed, and very soon she was asleep.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of Zuleika Dobson, by Max Beerbohm
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+<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Zuleika Dobson,
+<br>by Max Beerbohm</h1>
+
+<pre>
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+*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!*****
+
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+Title: Zuleika Dobson
+
+Author: Max Beerbohm
+
+Release Date: August, 1999  [EBook #1845]
+[Most recently updated: February 17, 2003]
+
+Edition: 11
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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, ZULEIKA DOBSON ***
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+This Etext prepared by Judy Boss, of Omaha, NE 
+
+<p>ZULEIKA DOBSON OR AN OXFORD LOVE STORY</p>
+
+<p>by Max Beerbohm</p>
+
+<p>NOTE to the 1922 edition</p>
+
+<p>I was in Italy when this book was first published. A year
+later (1912) I visited London, and I found that most of my
+friends and acquaintances spoke to me of Zu-like-a -- a name
+which I hardly recognised and thoroughly disapproved. I had
+always thought of the lady as Zu-leek-a. Surely it was thus that
+Joseph thought of his Wife, and Selim of his Bride? And I do hope
+that it is thus that any reader of these pages will think of Miss
+Dobson.</p>
+
+<p>M.B. Rapallo, 1922.</p>
+
+<p>ILLI ALMAE MATRI</p>
+
+<p>�</p>
+
+<p>�</p>
+
+<h2 align="center">ZULEIKA DOBSON</h2>
+
+<p>�</p>
+
+<h3>I</h3>
+
+<p>That old bell, presage of a train, had just sounded through
+Oxford station; and the undergraduates who were waiting there,
+gay figures in tweed or flannel, moved to the margin of the
+platform and gazed idly up the line. Young and careless, in the
+glow of the afternoon sunshine, they struck a sharp note of
+incongruity with the worn boards they stood on, with the fading
+signals and grey eternal walls of that antique station, which,
+familiar to them and insignificant, does yet whisper to the
+tourist the last enchantments of the Middle Age.</p>
+
+<p>At the door of the first-class waiting-room, aloof and
+venerable, stood the Warden of Judas. An ebon pillar of tradition
+seemed he, in his garb of old-fashioned cleric. Aloft, between
+the wide brim of his silk hat and the white extent of his
+shirt-front, appeared those eyes which hawks, that nose which
+eagles, had often envied. He supported his years on an ebon
+stick. He alone was worthy of the background.</p>
+
+<p>Came a whistle from the distance. The breast of an engine was
+descried, and a long train curving after it, under a flight of
+smoke. It grew and grew. Louder and louder, its noise foreran it.
+It became a furious, enormous monster, and, with an instinct for
+safety, all men receded from the platform's margin. (Yet came
+there with it, unknown to them, a danger far more terrible than
+itself.) Into the station it came blustering, with cloud and
+clangour. Ere it had yet stopped, the door of one carriage flew
+open, and from it, in a white travelling dress, in a toque
+a-twinkle with fine diamonds, a lithe and radiant creature
+slipped nimbly down to the platform.</p>
+
+<p>A cynosure indeed! A hundred eyes were fixed on her, and half
+as many hearts lost to her. The Warden of Judas himself had
+mounted on his nose a pair of black-rimmed glasses. Him espying,
+the nymph darted in his direction. The throng made way for her.
+She was at his side.</p>
+
+<p>"Grandpapa!" she cried, and kissed the old man on either
+cheek. (Not a youth there but would have bartered fifty years of
+his future for that salute.)</p>
+
+<p>"My dear Zuleika," he said, "welcome to Oxford! Have you no
+luggage?"</p>
+
+<p>"Heaps!" she answered. "And a maid who will find it."</p>
+
+<p>"Then," said the Warden, "let us drive straight to College."
+He offered her his arm, and they proceeded slowly to the
+entrance. She chatted gaily, blushing not in the long avenue of
+eyes she passed through. All the youths, under her spell, were
+now quite oblivious of the relatives they had come to meet.
+Parents, sisters, cousins, ran unclaimed about the platform.
+Undutiful, all the youths were forming a serried suite to their
+enchantress. In silence they followed her. They saw her leap into
+the Warden's landau, they saw the Warden seat himself upon her
+left. Nor was it until the landau was lost to sight that they
+turned--how slowly, and with how bad a grace!--to look for their
+relatives.</p>
+
+<p>Through those slums which connect Oxford with the world, the
+landau rolled on towards Judas. Not many youths occurred, for
+nearly all--it was the Monday of Eights Week--were down by the
+river, cheering the crews. There did, however, come spurring by,
+on a polo-pony, a very splendid youth. His straw hat was
+encircled with a riband of blue and white, and he raised it to
+the Warden.</p>
+
+<p>"That," said the Warden, "is the Duke of Dorset, a member of
+my College. He dines at my table to-night."</p>
+
+<p>Zuleika, turning to regard his Grace, saw that he had not
+reined in and was not even glancing back at her over his
+shoulder. She gave a little start of dismay, but scarcely had her
+lips pouted ere they curved to a smile--a smile with no malice in
+its corners.</p>
+
+<p>As the landau rolled into "the Corn," another youth--a
+pedestrian, and very different--saluted the Warden. He wore a
+black jacket, rusty and amorphous. His trousers were too short,
+and he himself was too short: almost a dwarf. His face was as
+plain as his gait was undistinguished. He squinted behind
+spectacles.</p>
+
+<p>"And who is that?" asked Zuleika.</p>
+
+<p>A deep flush overspread the cheek of the Warden. "That," he
+said, "is also a member of Judas. His name, I believe, is
+Noaks."</p>
+
+<p>"Is he dining with us to-night?" asked Zuleika.</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly not," said the Warden. "Most decidedly not."</p>
+
+<p>Noaks, unlike the Duke, had stopped for an ardent retrospect.
+He gazed till the landau was out of his short sight; then,
+sighing, resumed his solitary walk.</p>
+
+<p>The landau was rolling into "the Broad," over that ground
+which had once blackened under the fagots lit for Latimer and
+Ridley. It rolled past the portals of Balliol and of Trinity,
+past the Ashmolean. From those pedestals which intersperse the
+railing of the Sheldonian, the high grim busts of the Roman
+Emperors stared down at the fair stranger in the equipage.
+Zuleika returned their stare with but a casual glance. The
+inanimate had little charm for her.</p>
+
+<p>A moment later, a certain old don emerged from Blackwell's,
+where he had been buying books. Looking across the road, he saw,
+to his amazement, great beads of perspiration glistening on the
+brows of those Emperors. He trembled, and hurried away. That
+evening, in Common Room, he told what he had seen; and no amount
+of polite scepticism would convince him that it was but the
+hallucination of one who had been reading too much Mommsen. He
+persisted that he had seen what he described. It was not until
+two days had elapsed that some credence was accorded him.</p>
+
+<p>Yes, as the landau rolled by, sweat started from the brows of
+the Emperors. They, at least, foresaw the peril that was
+overhanging Oxford, and they gave such warning as they could. Let
+that be remembered to their credit. Let that incline us to think
+more gently of them. In their lives we know, they were infamous,
+some of them-- "nihil non commiserunt stupri, saevitiae,
+impietatis." But are they too little punished, after all? Here in
+Oxford, exposed eternally and inexorably to heat and frost, to
+the four winds that lash them and the rains that wear them away,
+they are expiating, in effigy, the abominations of their pride
+and cruelty and lust. Who were lechers, they are without bodies;
+who were tyrants, they are crowned never but with crowns of snow;
+who made themselves even with the gods, they are by American
+visitors frequently mistaken for the Twelve Apostles. It is but a
+little way down the road that the two Bishops perished for their
+faith, and even now we do never pass the spot without a tear for
+them. Yet how quickly they died in the flames! To these Emperors,
+for whom none weeps, time will give no surcease. Surely, it is
+sign of some grace in them that they rejoiced not, this bright
+afternoon, in the evil that was to befall the city of their
+penance.</p>
+
+<p>�</p>
+
+<h3>II</h3>
+
+<p>The sun streamed through the bay-window of a "best" bedroom in
+the Warden's house, and glorified the pale crayon-portraits on
+the wall, the dimity curtains, the old fresh chintz. He invaded
+the many trunks which--all painted Z. D.--gaped, in various
+stages of excavation, around the room. The doors of the huge
+wardrobe stood, like the doors of Janus' temple in time of war,
+majestically open; and the sun seized this opportunity of
+exploring the mahogany recesses. But the carpet, which had faded
+under his immemorial visitations, was now almost ENTIRELY hidden
+from him, hidden under layers of fair fine linen, layers of silk,
+brocade, satin, chiffon, muslin. All the colours of the rainbow,
+materialised by modistes, were there. Stacked on chairs were I
+know not what of sachets, glove-cases, fan-cases. There were
+innumerable packages in silver-paper and pink ribands. There was
+a pyramid of bandboxes. There was a virgin forest of boot-trees.
+And rustling quickly hither and thither, in and out of this
+profusion, with armfuls of finery, was an obviously French maid.
+Alert, unerring, like a swallow she dipped and darted. Nothing
+escaped her, and she never rested. She had the air of the born
+unpacker--swift and firm, yet withal tender. Scarce had her arms
+been laden but their loads were lying lightly between shelves or
+tightly in drawers. To calculate, catch, distribute, seemed in
+her but a single process. She was one of those who are born to
+make chaos cosmic.</p>
+
+<p>Insomuch that ere the loud chapel-clock tolled another hour
+all the trunks had been sent empty away. The carpet was unflecked
+by any scrap of silver-paper. From the mantelpiece, photographs
+of Zuleika surveyed the room with a possessive air. Zuleika's
+pincushion, a-bristle with new pins, lay on the dimity-flounced
+toilet-table, and round it stood a multitude of multiform glass
+vessels, domed, all of them, with dull gold, on which Z. D., in
+zianites and diamonds, was encrusted. On a small table stood a
+great casket of malachite, initialled in like fashion. On another
+small table stood Zuleika's library. Both books were in covers of
+dull gold. On the back of one cover BRADSHAW, in beryls, was
+encrusted; on the back of the other, A.B.C. GUIDE, in amethysts,
+beryls, chrysoprases, and garnets. And Zuleika's great
+cheval-glass stood ready to reflect her. Always it travelled with
+her, in a great case specially made for it. It was framed in
+ivory, and of fluted ivory were the slim columns it swung
+between. Of gold were its twin sconces, and four tall tapers
+stood in each of them.</p>
+
+<p>The door opened, and the Warden, with hospitable words, left
+his grand-daughter at the threshold.</p>
+
+<p>Zuleika wandered to her mirror. "Undress me, Melisande," she
+said. Like all who are wont to appear by night before the public,
+she had the habit of resting towards sunset.</p>
+
+<p>Presently Melisande withdrew. Her mistress, in a white
+peignoir tied with a blue sash, lay in a great chintz chair,
+gazing out of the bay-window. The quadrangle below was very
+beautiful, with its walls of rugged grey, its cloisters, its
+grass carpet. But to her it was of no more interest than if it
+had been the rattling court-yard to one of those hotels in which
+she spent her life. She saw it, but heeded it not. She seemed to
+be thinking of herself, or of something she desired, or of some
+one she had never met. There was ennui, and there was
+wistfulness, in her gaze. Yet one would have guessed these things
+to be transient--to be no more than the little shadows that
+sometimes pass between a bright mirror and the brightness it
+reflects.</p>
+
+<p>Zuleika was not strictly beautiful. Her eyes were a trifle
+large, and their lashes longer than they need have been. An
+anarchy of small curls was her chevelure, a dark upland of
+misrule, every hair asserting its rights over a not discreditable
+brow. For the rest, her features were not at all original. They
+seemed to have been derived rather from a gallimaufry of familiar
+models. From Madame la Marquise de Saint-Ouen came the shapely
+tilt of the nose. The mouth was a mere replica of Cupid's bow,
+lacquered scarlet and strung with the littlest pearls. No
+apple-tree, no wall of peaches, had not been robbed, nor any
+Tyrian rose-garden, for the glory of Miss Dobson's cheeks. Her
+neck was imitation-marble. Her hands and feet were of very mean
+proportions. She had no waist to speak of.</p>
+
+<p>Yet, though a Greek would have railed at her asymmetry, and an
+Elizabethan have called her "gipsy," Miss Dobson now, in the
+midst of the Edvardian Era, was the toast of two hemispheres.
+Late in her 'teens she had become an orphan and a governess. Her
+grandfather had refused her appeal for a home or an allowance, on
+the ground that he would not be burdened with the upshot of a
+marriage which he had once forbidden and not yet forgiven.
+Lately, however, prompted by curiosity or by remorse, he had
+asked her to spend a week or so of his declining years with him.
+And she, "resting" between two engagements--one at Hammerstein's
+Victoria, N.Y.C., the other at the Folies Bergeres, Paris--and
+having never been in Oxford, had so far let bygones be bygones as
+to come and gratify the old man's whim.</p>
+
+<p>It may be that she still resented his indifference to those
+early struggles which, even now, she shuddered to recall. For a
+governess' life she had been, indeed, notably unfit. Hard she had
+thought it, that penury should force her back into the
+school-room she was scarce out of, there to champion the sums and
+maps and conjugations she had never tried to master. Hating her
+work, she had failed signally to pick up any learning from her
+little pupils, and had been driven from house to house, a sullen
+and most ineffectual maiden. The sequence of her situations was
+the swifter by reason of her pretty face. Was there a grown-up
+son, always he fell in love with her, and she would let his eyes
+trifle boldly with hers across the dinner-table. When he offered
+her his hand, she would refuse it--not because she "knew her
+place," but because she did not love him. Even had she been a
+good teacher, her presence could not have been tolerated
+thereafter. Her corded trunk, heavier by another packet of
+billets-doux and a month's salary in advance, was soon carried up
+the stairs of some other house.</p>
+
+<p>It chanced that she came, at length, to be governess in a
+large family that had Gibbs for its name and Notting Hill for its
+background. Edward, the eldest son, was a clerk in the city, who
+spent his evenings in the practice of amateur conjuring. He was a
+freckled youth, with hair that bristled in places where it should
+have lain smooth, and he fell in love with Zuleika duly, at first
+sight, during high-tea. In the course of the evening, he sought
+to win her admiration by a display of all his tricks. These were
+familiar to this household, and the children had been sent to
+bed, the mother was dozing, long before the seance was at an end.
+But Miss Dobson, unaccustomed to any gaieties, sat fascinated by
+the young man's sleight of hand, marvelling that a top-hat could
+hold so many goldfish, and a handkerchief turn so swiftly into a
+silver florin. All that night, she lay wide awake, haunted by the
+miracles he had wrought. Next evening, when she asked him to
+repeat them, "Nay," he whispered, "I cannot bear to deceive the
+girl I love. Permit me to explain the tricks." So he explained
+them. His eyes sought hers across the bowl of gold-fish, his
+fingers trembled as he taught her to manipulate the magic
+canister. One by one, she mastered the paltry secrets. Her
+respect for him waned with every revelation. He complimented her
+on her skill. "I could not do it more neatly myself!" he said.
+"Oh, dear Miss Dobson, will you but accept my hand, all these
+things shall be yours--the cards, the canister, the goldfish, the
+demon egg-cup--all yours!" Zuleika, with ravishing coyness,
+answered that if he would give her them now, she would "think it
+over." The swain consented, and at bed-time she retired with the
+gift under her arm. In the light of her bedroom candle Marguerite
+hung not in greater ecstasy over the jewel-casket than hung
+Zuleika over the box of tricks. She clasped her hands over the
+tremendous possibilities it held for her--manumission from her
+bondage, wealth, fame, power. Stealthily, so soon as the house
+slumbered, she packed her small outfit, embedding therein the
+precious gift. Noiselessly, she shut the lid of her trunk, corded
+it, shouldered it, stole down the stairs with it. Outside--how
+that chain had grated! and her shoulder, how it was aching!--she
+soon found a cab. She took a night's sanctuary in some
+railway-hotel. Next day, she moved into a small room in a
+lodging- house off the Edgware Road, and there for a whole week
+she was sedulous in the practice of her tricks. Then she
+inscribed her name on the books of a "Juvenile Party
+Entertainments Agency."</p>
+
+<p>The Christmas holidays were at hand, and before long she got
+an engagement. It was a great evening for her. Her repertory was,
+it must be confessed, old and obvious; but the children, in
+deference to their hostess, pretended not to know how the tricks
+were done, and assumed their prettiest airs of wonder and
+delight. One of them even pretended to be frightened, and was led
+howling from the room. In fact, the whole thing went off
+splendidly. The hostess was charmed, and told Zuleika that a
+glass of lemonade would be served to her in the hall. Other
+engagements soon followed. Zuleika was very, very happy. I cannot
+claim for her that she had a genuine passion for her art. The
+true conjurer finds his guerdon in the consciousness of work done
+perfectly and for its own sake. Lucre and applause are not
+necessary to him. If he were set down, with the materials of his
+art, on a desert island, he would yet be quite happy. He would
+not cease to produce the barber's-pole from his mouth. To the
+indifferent winds he would still speak his patter, and even in
+the last throes of starvation would not eat his live rabbit or
+his gold-fish. Zuleika, on a desert island, would have spent most
+of her time in looking for a man's foot-print. She was, indeed,
+far too human a creature to care much for art. I do not say that
+she took her work lightly. She thought she had genius, and she
+liked to be told that this was so. But mainly she loved her work
+as a means of mere self-display. The frank admiration which, into
+whatsoever house she entered, the grown-up sons flashed on her;
+their eagerness to see her to the door; their impressive way of
+putting her into her omnibus--these were the things she revelled
+in. She was a nymph to whom men's admiration was the greater part
+of life. By day, whenever she went into the streets, she was
+conscious that no man passed her without a stare; and this
+consciousness gave a sharp zest to her outings. Sometimes she was
+followed to her door--crude flattery which she was too innocent
+to fear. Even when she went into the haberdasher's to make some
+little purchase of tape or riband, or into the grocer's--for she
+was an epicure in her humble way--to buy a tin of potted meat for
+her supper, the homage of the young men behind the counter did
+flatter and exhilarate her. As the homage of men became for her,
+more and more, a matter of course, the more subtly necessary was
+it to her happiness. The more she won of it, the more she
+treasured it. She was alone in the world, and it saved her from
+any moment of regret that she had neither home nor friends. For
+her the streets that lay around her had no squalor, since she
+paced them always in the gold nimbus of her fascinations. Her
+bedroom seemed not mean nor lonely to her, since the little
+square of glass, nailed above the wash-stand, was ever there to
+reflect her face. Thereinto, indeed, she was ever peering. She
+would droop her head from side to side, she would bend it forward
+and see herself from beneath her eyelashes, then tilt it back and
+watch herself over her supercilious chin. And she would smile,
+frown, pout, languish--let all the emotions hover upon her face;
+and always she seemed to herself lovelier than she had ever
+been.</p>
+
+<p>Yet was there nothing Narcissine in her spirit. Her love for
+her own image was not cold aestheticism. She valued that image
+not for its own sake, but for sake of the glory it always won for
+her. In the little remote music-hall, where she was soon
+appearing nightly as an "early turn," she reaped glory in a
+nightly harvest. She could feel that all the gallery-boys,
+because of her, were scornful of the sweethearts wedged between
+them, and she knew that she had but to say "Will any gentleman in
+the audience be so good as to lend me his hat?" for the stalls to
+rise as one man and rush towards the platform. But greater things
+were in store for her. She was engaged at two halls in the West
+End. Her horizon was fast receding and expanding. Homage became
+nightly tangible in bouquets, rings, brooches--things acceptable
+and (luckier than their donors) accepted. Even Sunday was not
+barren for Zuleika: modish hostesses gave her postprandially to
+their guests. Came that Sunday night, notanda candidissimo
+calculo! when she received certain guttural compliments which
+made absolute her vogue and enabled her to command, thenceforth,
+whatever terms she asked for.</p>
+
+<p>Already, indeed, she was rich. She was living at the most
+exorbitant hotel in all Mayfair. She had innumerable gowns and no
+necessity to buy jewels; and she also had, which pleased her
+most, the fine cheval- glass I have described. At the close of
+the Season, Paris claimed her for a month's engagement. Paris saw
+her and was prostrate. Boldini did a portrait of her. Jules Bloch
+wrote a song about her; and this, for a whole month, was howled
+up and down the cobbled alleys of Montmartre. And all the little
+dandies were mad for "la Zuleika." The jewellers of the Rue de la
+Paix soon had nothing left to put in their windows-- everything
+had been bought for "la Zuleika." For a whole month, baccarat was
+not played at the Jockey Club--every member had succumbed to a
+nobler passion. For a whole month, the whole demi-monde was
+forgotten for one English virgin. Never, even in Paris, had a
+woman triumphed so. When the day came for her departure, the city
+wore such an air of sullen mourning as it had not worn since the
+Prussians marched to its Elysee. Zuleika, quite untouched, would
+not linger in the conquered city. Agents had come to her from
+every capital in Europe, and, for a year, she ranged, in
+triumphal nomady, from one capital to another. In Berlin, every
+night, the students escorted her home with torches. Prince
+Vierfuenfsechs-Siebenachtneun offered her his hand, and was
+condemned by the Kaiser to six months' confinement in his little
+castle. In Yildiz Kiosk, the tyrant who still throve there
+conferred on her the Order of Chastity, and offered her the
+central couch in his seraglio. She gave her performance in the
+Quirinal, and, from the Vatican, the Pope launched against her a
+Bull which fell utterly flat. In Petersburg, the Grand Duke
+Salamander Salamandrovitch fell enamoured of her. Of every
+article in the apparatus of her conjuring-tricks he caused a
+replica to be made in finest gold. These treasures he presented
+to her in that great malachite casket which now stood on the
+little table in her room; and thenceforth it was with these that
+she performed her wonders. They did not mark the limit of the
+Grand Duke's generosity. He was for bestowing on Zuleika the half
+of his immensurable estates. The Grand Duchess appealed to the
+Tzar. Zuleika was conducted across the frontier, by an escort of
+love-sick Cossacks. On the Sunday before she left Madrid, a great
+bull-fight was held in her honour. Fifteen bulls received the
+coup-de-grace, and Alvarez, the matador of matadors, died in the
+arena with her name on his lips. He had tried to kill the last
+bull without taking his eyes off la divina senorita. A prettier
+compliment had never been paid her, and she was immensely pleased
+with it. For that matter, she was immensely pleased with
+everything. She moved proudly to the incessant music of a paean,
+aye! of a paean that was always crescendo.</p>
+
+<p>Its echoes followed her when she crossed the Atlantic, till
+they were lost in the louder, deeper, more blatant paean that
+rose for her from the shores beyond. All the stops of that
+"mighty organ, many-piped," the New York press, were pulled out
+simultaneously, as far as they could be pulled, in Zuleika's
+honour. She delighted in the din. She read every line that was
+printed about her, tasting her triumph as she had never tasted it
+before. And how she revelled in the Brobdingnagian drawings of
+her, which, printed in nineteen colours, towered between the
+columns or sprawled across them! There she was, measuring herself
+back to back with the Statue of Liberty; scudding through the
+firmament on a comet, whilst a crowd of tiny men in evening-dress
+stared up at her from the terrestrial globe; peering through a
+microscope held by Cupid over a diminutive Uncle Sam; teaching
+the American Eagle to stand on its head; and doing a
+hundred-and-one other things--whatever suggested itself to the
+fancy of native art. And through all this iridescent maze of
+symbolism were scattered many little slabs of realism. At home,
+on the street, Zuleika was the smiling target of all
+snap-shooters, and all the snap-shots were snapped up by the
+press and reproduced with annotations: Zuleika Dobson walking on
+Broadway in the sables gifted her by Grand Duke Salamander--she
+says "You can bounce blizzards in them"; Zuleika Dobson yawning
+over a love-letter from millionaire Edelweiss; relishing a cup of
+clam-broth--she says "They don't use clams out there"; ordering
+her maid to fix her a warm bath; finding a split in the gloves
+she has just drawn on before starting for the musicale given in
+her honour by Mrs. Suetonius X. Meistersinger, the most exclusive
+woman in New York; chatting at the telephone to Miss Camille Van
+Spook, the best-born girl in New York; laughing over the
+recollection of a compliment made her by George Abimelech Post,
+the best-groomed man in New York; meditating a new trick;
+admonishing a waiter who has upset a cocktail over her skirt;
+having herself manicured; drinking tea in bed. Thus was Zuleika
+enabled daily to be, as one might say, a spectator of her own
+wonderful life. On her departure from New York, the papers spoke
+no more than the truth when they said she had had "a lovely
+time." The further she went West-- millionaire Edelweiss had
+loaned her his private car--the lovelier her time was. Chicago
+drowned the echoes of New York; final Frisco dwarfed the
+headlines of Chicago. Like one of its own prairie-fires, she
+swept the country from end to end. Then she swept back, and
+sailed for England. She was to return for a second season in the
+coming Fall. At present, she was, as I have said, "resting."</p>
+
+<p>As she sat here in the bay-window of her room, she was not
+reviewing the splendid pageant of her past. She was a young
+person whose reveries never were in retrospect. For her the past
+was no treasury of distinct memories, all hoarded and classified,
+some brighter than others and more highly valued. All memories
+were for her but as the motes in one fused radiance that followed
+her and made more luminous the pathway of her future. She was
+always looking forward. She was looking forward now--that shade
+of ennui had passed from her face--to the week she was to spend
+in Oxford. A new city was a new toy to her, and--for it was
+youth's homage that she loved best--this city of youths was a toy
+after her own heart.</p>
+
+<p>Aye, and it was youths who gave homage to her most freely. She
+was of that high-stepping and flamboyant type that captivates
+youth most surely. Old men and men of middle age admired her, but
+she had not that flower-like quality of shyness and helplessness,
+that look of innocence, so dear to men who carry life's secrets
+in their heads. Yet Zuleika WAS very innocent, really. She was as
+pure as that young shepherdess Marcella, who, all unguarded,
+roved the mountains and was by all the shepherds adored. Like
+Marcella, she had given her heart to no man, had preferred none.
+Youths were reputed to have died for love of her, as Chrysostom
+died for love of the shepherdess; and she, like the shepherdess,
+had shed no tear. When Chrysostom was lying on his bier in the
+valley, and Marcella looked down from the high rock, Ambrosio,
+the dead man's comrade, cried out on her, upbraiding her with
+bitter words--"Oh basilisk of our mountains!" Nor do I think
+Ambrosio spoke too strongly. Marcella cared nothing for men's
+admiration, and yet, instead of retiring to one of those
+nunneries which are founded for her kind, she chose to rove the
+mountains, causing despair to all the shepherds. Zuleika, with
+her peculiar temperament, would have gone mad in a nunnery.
+"But," you may argue, "ought not she to have taken the veil, even
+at the cost of her reason, rather than cause so much despair in
+the world? If Marcella was a basilisk, as you seem to think, how
+about Miss Dobson?" Ah, but Marcella knew quite well, boasted
+even, that she never would or could love any man. Zuleika, on the
+other hand, was a woman of really passionate fibre. She may not
+have had that conscious, separate, and quite explicit desire to
+be a mother with which modern playwrights credit every unmated
+member of her sex. But she did know that she could love. And,
+surely, no woman who knows that of herself can be rightly
+censured for not recluding herself from the world: it is only
+women without the power to love who have no right to provoke
+men's love.</p>
+
+<p>Though Zuleika had never given her heart, strong in her were
+the desire and the need that it should be given. Whithersoever
+she had fared, she had seen nothing but youths fatuously
+prostrate to her--not one upright figure which she could respect.
+There were the middle-aged men, the old men, who did not bow down
+to her; but from middle-age, as from eld, she had a sanguine
+aversion. She could love none but a youth. Nor--though she
+herself, womanly, would utterly abase herself before her
+ideal--could she love one who fell prone before her. And before
+her all youths always did fall prone. She was an empress, and all
+youths were her slaves. Their bondage delighted her, as I have
+said. But no empress who has any pride can adore one of her
+slaves. Whom, then, could proud Zuleika adore? It was a question
+which sometimes troubled her. There were even moments when,
+looking into her cheval-glass, she cried out against that
+arrangement in comely lines and tints which got for her the dulia
+she delighted in. To be able to love once--would not that be
+better than all the homage in the world? But would she ever meet
+whom, looking up to him, she could love--she, the omnisubjugant?
+Would she ever, ever meet him?</p>
+
+<p>It was when she wondered thus, that the wistfulness came into
+her eyes. Even now, as she sat by the window, that shadow
+returned to them. She was wondering, shyly, had she met him at
+length? That young equestrian who had not turned to look at her;
+whom she was to meet at dinner to-night . . . was it he? The ends
+of her blue sash lay across her lap, and she was lazily
+unravelling their fringes. "Blue and white!" she remembered.
+"They were the colours he wore round his hat." And she gave a
+little laugh of coquetry. She laughed, and, long after, her lips
+were still parted in a smile.</p>
+
+<p>So did she sit, smiling, wondering, with the fringes of her
+sash between her fingers, while the sun sank behind the opposite
+wall of the quadrangle, and the shadows crept out across the
+grass, thirsty for the dew.</p>
+
+<p>�</p>
+
+<h3>III</h3>
+
+<p>The clock in the Warden's drawing-room had just struck eight,
+and already the ducal feet were beautiful on the white bearskin
+hearthrug. So slim and long were they, of instep so nobly arched,
+that only with a pair of glazed ox-tongues on a breakfast-table
+were they comparable. Incomparable quite, the figure and face and
+vesture of him who ended in them.</p>
+
+<p>The Warden was talking to him, with all the deference of
+elderly commoner to patrician boy. The other guests--an Oriel don
+and his wife--were listening with earnest smile and submissive
+droop, at a slight distance. Now and again, to put themselves at
+their ease, they exchanged in undertone a word or two about the
+weather.</p>
+
+<p>"The young lady whom you may have noticed with me," the Warden
+was saying, "is my orphaned grand-daughter." (The wife of the
+Oriel don discarded her smile, and sighed, with a glance at the
+Duke, who was himself an orphan.) "She has come to stay with me."
+(The Duke glanced quickly round the room.) "I cannot think why
+she is not down yet." (The Oriel don fixed his eyes on the clock,
+as though he suspected it of being fast.) "I must ask you to
+forgive her. She appears to be a bright, pleasant young
+woman."</p>
+
+<p>"Married?" asked the Duke.</p>
+
+<p>"No," said the Warden; and a cloud of annoyance crossed the
+boy's face. "No; she devotes her life entirely to good
+works."</p>
+
+<p>"A hospital nurse?" the Duke murmured.</p>
+
+<p>"No, Zuleika's appointed task is to induce delightful wonder
+rather than to alleviate pain. She performs
+conjuring-tricks."</p>
+
+<p>"Not--not Miss Zuleika Dobson?" cried the Duke.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah yes. I forgot that she had achieved some fame in the outer
+world. Perhaps she has already met you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Never," said the young man coldly. "But of course I have
+heard of Miss Dobson. I did not know she was related to you."</p>
+
+<p>The Duke had an intense horror of unmarried girls. All his
+vacations were spent in eluding them and their chaperons. That he
+should be confronted with one of them--with such an one of
+them!--in Oxford, seemed to him sheer violation of sanctuary. The
+tone, therefore, in which he said "I shall be charmed," in answer
+to the Warden's request that he would take Zuleika into dinner,
+was very glacial. So was his gaze when, a moment later, the young
+lady made her entry.</p>
+
+<p>"She did not look like an orphan," said the wife of the Oriel
+don, subsequently, on the way home. The criticism was a just one.
+Zuleika would have looked singular in one of those lowly
+double-files of straw-bonnets and drab cloaks which are so
+steadying a feature of our social system. Tall and lissom, she
+was sheathed from the bosom downwards in flamingo silk, and she
+was liberally festooned with emeralds. Her dark hair was not even
+strained back from her forehead and behind her ears, as an
+orphan's should be. Parted somewhere at the side, it fell in an
+avalanche of curls upon one eyebrow. From her right ear drooped
+heavily a black pearl, from her left a pink; and their difference
+gave an odd, bewildering witchery to the little face between.</p>
+
+<p>Was the young Duke bewitched? Instantly, utterly. But none
+could have guessed as much from his cold stare, his easy and
+impassive bow. Throughout dinner, none guessed that his
+shirt-front was but the screen of a fierce warfare waged between
+pride and passion. Zuleika, at the foot of the table, fondly
+supposed him indifferent to her. Though he sat on her right, not
+one word or glance would he give her. All his conversation was
+addressed to the unassuming lady who sat on his other side, next
+to the Warden. Her he edified and flustered beyond measure by his
+insistent courtesy. Her husband, alone on the other side of the
+table, was mortified by his utter failure to engage Zuleika in
+small-talk. Zuleika was sitting with her profile turned to
+him--the profile with the pink pearl--and was gazing full at the
+young Duke. She was hardly more affable than a cameo. "Yes,"
+"No," "I don't know," were the only answers she would vouchsafe
+to his questions. A vague "Oh really?" was all he got for his
+timid little offerings of information. In vain he started the
+topic of modern conjuring-tricks as compared with the
+conjuring-tricks performed by the ancient Egyptians. Zuleika did
+not even say "Oh really?" when he told her about the
+metamorphosis of the bulls in the Temple of Osiris. He primed
+himself with a glass of sherry, cleared his throat. "And what,"
+he asked, with a note of firmness, "did you think of our cousins
+across the water?" Zuleika said "Yes;" and then he gave in. Nor
+was she conscious that he ceased talking to her. At intervals
+throughout the rest of dinner, she murmured "Yes," and "No," and
+"Oh really?" though the poor little don was now listening
+silently to the Duke and the Warden.</p>
+
+<p>She was in a trance of sheer happiness. At last, she thought,
+her hope was fulfilled--that hope which, although she had seldom
+remembered it in the joy of her constant triumphs, had been
+always lurking in her, lying near to her heart and chafing her,
+like the shift of sackcloth which that young brilliant girl,
+loved and lost of Giacopone di Todi, wore always in secret
+submission to her own soul, under the fair soft robes and the
+rubies men saw on her. At last, here was the youth who would not
+bow down to her; whom, looking up to him, she could adore. She
+ate and drank automatically, never taking her gaze from him. She
+felt not one touch of pique at his behaviour. She was tremulous
+with a joy that was new to her, greater than any joy she had
+known. Her soul was as a flower in its opetide. She was in love.
+Rapt, she studied every lineament of the pale and perfect
+face--the brow from which bronze-coloured hair rose in tiers of
+burnished ripples; the large steel-coloured eyes, with their
+carven lids; the carven nose, and the plastic lips. She noted how
+long and slim were his fingers, and how slender his wrists. She
+noted the glint cast by the candles upon his shirt-front. The two
+large white pearls there seemed to her symbols of his nature.
+They were like two moons: cold, remote, radiant. Even when she
+gazed at the Duke's face, she was aware of them in her
+vision.</p>
+
+<p>Nor was the Duke unconscious, as he seemed to be, of her
+scrutiny. Though he kept his head averse, he knew that always her
+eyes were watching him. Obliquely, he saw them; saw, too, the
+contour of the face, and the black pearl and the pink; could not
+blind himself, try as he would. And he knew that he was in
+love.</p>
+
+<p>Like Zuleika herself, this young Duke was in love for the
+first time. Wooed though he had been by almost as many maidens as
+she by youths, his heart, like hers, had remained cold. But he
+had never felt, as she had, the desire to love. He was not now
+rejoicing, as she was, in the sensation of first love; nay, he
+was furiously mortified by it, and struggled with all his might
+against it. He had always fancied himself secure against any so
+vulgar peril; always fancied that by him at least, the proud old
+motto of his family--"Pas si bete"--would not be belied. And I
+daresay, indeed, that had he never met Zuleika, the irresistible,
+he would have lived, and at a very ripe old age died, a dandy
+without reproach. For in him the dandiacal temper had been
+absolute hitherto, quite untainted and unruffled. He was too much
+concerned with his own perfection ever to think of admiring any
+one else. Different from Zuleika, he cared for his wardrobe and
+his toilet-table not as a means to making others admire him the
+more, but merely as a means through which he could intensify, a
+ritual in which to express and realise, his own idolatry. At Eton
+he had been called "Peacock," and this nick-name had followed him
+up to Oxford. It was not wholly apposite, however. For, whereas
+the peacock is a fool even among birds, the Duke had already
+taken (besides a particularly brilliant First in Mods) the
+Stanhope, the Newdigate, the Lothian, and the Gaisford Prize for
+Greek Verse. And these things he had achieved currente calamo,
+"wielding his pen," as Scott said of Byron, "with the easy
+negligence of a nobleman." He was now in his third year of
+residence, and was reading, a little, for Literae Humaniores.
+There is no doubt that but for his untimely death he would have
+taken a particularly brilliant First in that school also.</p>
+
+<p>For the rest, he had many accomplishments. He was adroit in
+the killing of all birds and fishes, stags and foxes. He played
+polo, cricket, racquets, chess, and billiards as well as such
+things can be played. He was fluent in all modern languages, had
+a very real talent in water-colour, and was accounted, by those
+who had had the privilege of hearing him, the best amateur
+pianist on this side of the Tweed. Little wonder, then, that he
+was idolised by the undergraduates of his day. He did not,
+however, honour many of them with his friendship. He had a
+theoretic liking for them as a class, as the "young barbarians
+all at play" in that little antique city; but individually they
+jarred on him, and he saw little of them. Yet he sympathised with
+them always, and, on occasion, would actively take their part
+against the dons. In the middle of his second year, he had gone
+so far that a College Meeting had to be held, and he was sent
+down for the rest of term. The Warden placed his own landau at
+the disposal of the illustrious young exile, who therein was
+driven to the station, followed by a long, vociferous procession
+of undergraduates in cabs. Now, it happened that this was a time
+of political excitement in London. The Liberals, who were in
+power, had passed through the House of Commons a measure more
+than usually socialistic; and this measure was down for its
+second reading in the Lords on the very day that the Duke left
+Oxford, an exile. It was but a few weeks since he had taken his
+seat in the Lords; and this afternoon, for the want of anything
+better to do, he strayed in. The Leader of the House was already
+droning his speech for the bill, and the Duke found himself on
+one of the opposite benches. There sat his compeers, sullenly
+waiting to vote for a bill which every one of them detested. As
+the speaker subsided, the Duke, for the fun of the thing, rose.
+He made a long speech against the bill. His gibes at the
+Government were so scathing, so utterly destructive his criticism
+of the bill itself, so lofty and so irresistible the flights of
+his eloquence, that, when he resumed his seat, there was only one
+course left to the Leader of the House. He rose and, in a few
+husky phrases, moved that the bill "be read this day six months."
+All England rang with the name of the young Duke. He himself
+seemed to be the one person unmoved by his exploit. He did not
+re-appear in the Upper Chamber, and was heard to speak in
+slighting terms of its architecture, as well as of its
+upholstery. Nevertheless, the Prime Minister became so nervous
+that he procured for him, a month later, the Sovereign's offer of
+a Garter which had just fallen vacant. The Duke accepted it. He
+was, I understand, the only undergraduate on whom this Order had
+ever been conferred. He was very much pleased with the insignia,
+and when, on great occasions, he wore them, no one dared say that
+the Prime Minister's choice was not fully justified. But you must
+not imagine that he cared for them as symbols of achievement and
+power. The dark blue riband, and the star scintillating to eight
+points, the heavy mantle of blue velvet, with its lining of
+taffeta and shoulder-knots of white satin, the crimson surcoat,
+the great embullioned tassels, and the chain of linked gold, and
+the plumes of ostrich and heron uprising from the black velvet
+hat--these things had for him little significance save as a fine
+setting, a finer setting than the most elaborate smoking-suit,
+for that perfection of aspect which the gods had given him. This
+was indeed the gift he valued beyond all others. He knew well,
+however, that women care little for a man's appearance, and that
+what they seek in a man is strength of character, and rank, and
+wealth. These three gifts the Duke had in a high degree, and he
+was by women much courted because of them. Conscious that every
+maiden he met was eager to be his Duchess, he had assumed always
+a manner of high austerity among maidens, and even if he had
+wished to flirt with Zuleika he would hardly have known how to do
+it. But he did not wish to flirt with her. That she had bewitched
+him did but make it the more needful that he should shun all
+converse with her. It was imperative that he should banish her
+from his mind, quickly. He must not dilute his own soul's
+essence. He must not surrender to any passion his dandihood. The
+dandy must be celibate, cloistral; is, indeed, but a monk with a
+mirror for beads and breviary --an anchorite, mortifying his soul
+that his body may be perfect. Till he met Zuleika, the Duke had
+not known the meaning of temptation. He fought now, a St.
+Anthony, against the apparition. He would not look at her, and he
+hated her. He loved her, and he could not help seeing her. The
+black pearl and the pink seemed to dangle ever nearer and clearer
+to him, mocking him and beguiling. Inexpellible was her
+image.</p>
+
+<p>So fierce was the conflict in him that his outward nonchalance
+gradually gave way. As dinner drew to its close, his conversation
+with the wife of the Oriel don flagged and halted. He sank, at
+length, into a deep silence. He sat with downcast eyes, utterly
+distracted.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly, something fell, plump! into the dark whirlpool of
+his thoughts. He started. The Warden was leaning forward, had
+just said something to him.</p>
+
+<p>"I beg your pardon?" asked the Duke. Dessert, he noticed, was
+on the table, and he was paring an apple. The Oriel don was
+looking at him with sympathy, as at one who had swooned and was
+just "coming to."</p>
+
+<p>"Is it true, my dear Duke," the Warden repeated, "that you
+have been persuaded to play to-morrow evening at the Judas
+concert?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ah yes, I am going to play something."</p>
+
+<p>Zuleika bent suddenly forward, addressed him. "Oh," she cried,
+clasping her hands beneath her chin, "will you let me come and
+turn over the leaves for you?"</p>
+
+<p>He looked her full in the face. It was like seeing suddenly at
+close quarters some great bright monument that one has long known
+only as a sun-caught speck in the distance. He saw the large
+violet eyes open to him, and their lashes curling to him; the
+vivid parted lips; and the black pearl, and the pink.</p>
+
+<p>"You are very kind," he murmured, in a voice which sounded to
+him quite far away. "But I always play without notes."</p>
+
+<p>Zuleika blushed. Not with shame, but with delirious pleasure.
+For that snub she would just then have bartered all the homage
+she had hoarded. This, she felt, was the climax. She would not
+outstay it. She rose, smiling to the wife of the Oriel don. Every
+one rose. The Oriel don held open the door, and the two ladies
+passed out of the room.</p>
+
+<p>The Duke drew out his cigarette case. As he looked down at the
+cigarettes, he was vaguely conscious of some strange phenomenon
+somewhere between them and his eyes. Foredone by the agitation of
+the past hour, he did not at once realise what it was that he
+saw. His impression was of something in bad taste, some discord
+in his costume . . . a black pearl and a pink pearl in his
+shirt-front!</p>
+
+<p>Just for a moment, absurdly over-estimating poor Zuleika's
+skill, he supposed himself a victim of legerdemain. Another
+moment, and the import of the studs revealed itself. He staggered
+up from his chair, covering his breast with one arm, and murmured
+that he was faint. As he hurried from the room, the Oriel don was
+pouring out a tumbler of water and suggesting burnt feathers. The
+Warden, solicitous, followed him into the hall. He snatched up
+his hat, gasping that he had spent a delightful evening--was very
+sorry--was subject to these attacks. Once outside, he took
+frankly to his heels.</p>
+
+<p>At the corner of the Broad, he looked back over his shoulder.
+He had half expected a scarlet figure skimming in pursuit. There
+was nothing. He halted. Before him, the Broad lay empty beneath
+the moon. He went slowly, mechanically, to his rooms.</p>
+
+<p>The high grim busts of the Emperors stared down at him, their
+faces more than ever tragically cavernous and distorted. They saw
+and read in that moonlight the symbols on his breast. As he stood
+on his doorstep, waiting for the door to be opened, he must have
+seemed to them a thing for infinite compassion. For were they not
+privy to the doom that the morrow, or the morrow's morrow, held
+for him--held not indeed for him alone, yet for him especially,
+as it were, and for him most lamentably?</p>
+
+<p>IV</p>
+
+<p>The breakfast-things were not yet cleared away. A plate
+freaked with fine strains of marmalade, an empty toast-rack, a
+broken roll--these and other things bore witness to a day
+inaugurated in the right spirit.</p>
+
+<p>Away from them, reclining along his window-seat, was the Duke.
+Blue spirals rose from his cigarette, nothing in the still air to
+trouble them. From their railing, across the road, the Emperors
+gazed at him.</p>
+
+<p>For a young man, sleep is a sure solvent of distress. There
+whirls not for him in the night any so hideous a phantasmagoria
+as will not become, in the clarity of next morning, a spruce
+procession for him to lead. Brief the vague horror of his
+awakening; memory sweeps back to him, and he sees nothing
+dreadful after all. "Why not?" is the sun's bright message to
+him, and "Why not indeed?" his answer. After hours of agony and
+doubt prolonged to cock-crow, sleep had stolen to the Duke's
+bed-side. He awoke late, with a heavy sense of disaster; but lo!
+when he remembered, everything took on a new aspect. He was in
+love. "Why not?" He mocked himself for the morbid vigil he had
+spent in probing and vainly binding the wounds of his false
+pride. The old life was done with. He laughed as he stepped into
+his bath. Why should the disseizin of his soul have seemed
+shameful to him? He had had no soul till it passed out of his
+keeping. His body thrilled to the cold water, his soul as to a
+new sacrament. He was in love, and that was all he wished for . .
+. There, on the dressing-table, lay the two studs, visible
+symbols of his love. Dear to him, now, the colours of them! He
+took them in his hand, one by one, fondling them. He wished he
+could wear them in the day-time; but this, of course, was
+impossible. His toilet finished, he dropped them into the left
+pocket of his waistcoat.</p>
+
+<p>Therein, near to his heart, they were lying now, as he looked
+out at the changed world--the world that had become Zuleika.
+"Zuleika!" his recurrent murmur, was really an apostrophe to the
+whole world.</p>
+
+<p>Piled against the wall were certain boxes of black japanned
+tin, which had just been sent to him from London. At any other
+time he would certainly not have left them unopened. For they
+contained his robes of the Garter. Thursday, the day after
+to-morrow, was the date fixed for the investiture of a foreign
+king who was now visiting England: and the full chapter of
+Knights had been commanded to Windsor for the ceremony. Yesterday
+the Duke had looked keenly forward to his excursion. It was only
+in those too rarely required robes that he had the sense of being
+fully dressed. But to-day not a thought had he of them.</p>
+
+<p>Some clock clove with silver the stillness of the morning. Ere
+came the second stroke, another and nearer clock was striking.
+And now there were others chiming in. The air was confused with
+the sweet babel of its many spires, some of them booming deep,
+measured sequences, some tinkling impatiently and outwitting
+others which had begun before them. And when this anthem of
+jealous antiphonies and uneven rhythms had dwindled quite away
+and fainted in one last solitary note of silver, there started
+somewhere another sequence; and this, almost at its last stroke,
+was interrupted by yet another, which went on to tell the hour of
+noon in its own way, quite slowly and significantly, as though
+none knew it.</p>
+
+<p>And now Oxford was astir with footsteps and laughter--the
+laughter and quick footsteps of youths released from
+lecture-rooms. The Duke shifted from the window. Somehow, he did
+not care to be observed, though it was usually at this hour that
+he showed himself for the setting of some new fashion in costume.
+Many an undergraduate, looking up, missed the picture in the
+window-frame.</p>
+
+<p>The Duke paced to and fro, smiling ecstatically. He took the
+two studs from his pocket and gazed at them. He looked in the
+glass, as one seeking the sympathy of a familiar. For the first
+time in his life, he turned impatiently aside. It was a new kind
+of sympathy he needed to-day.</p>
+
+<p>The front door slammed, and the staircase creaked to the
+ascent of two heavy boots. The Duke listened, waited irresolute.
+The boots passed his door, were already clumping up the next
+flight. "Noaks!" he cried. The boots paused, then clumped down
+again. The door opened and disclosed that homely figure which
+Zuleika had seen on her way to Judas.</p>
+
+<p>Sensitive reader, start not at the apparition! Oxford is a
+plexus of anomalies. These two youths were (odd as it may seem to
+you) subject to the same Statutes, affiliated to the same
+College, reading for the same School; aye! and though the one had
+inherited half a score of noble and castellated roofs, whose mere
+repairs cost him annually thousands and thousands of pounds, and
+the other's people had but one little mean square of lead, from
+which the fireworks of the Crystal Palace were clearly visible
+every Thursday evening, in Oxford one roof sheltered both of
+them. Furthermore, there was even some measure of intimacy
+between them. It was the Duke's whim to condescend further in the
+direction of Noaks than in any other. He saw in Noaks his own
+foil and antithesis, and made a point of walking up the High with
+him at least once in every term. Noaks, for his part, regarded
+the Duke with feelings mingled of idolatry and disapproval. The
+Duke's First in Mods oppressed him (who, by dint of dogged
+industry, had scraped a Second) more than all the other
+differences between them. But the dullard's envy of brilliant men
+is always assuaged by the suspicion that they will come to a bad
+end. Noaks may have regarded the Duke as a rather pathetic
+figure, on the whole.</p>
+
+<p>"Come in, Noaks," said the Duke. "You have been to a
+lecture?"</p>
+
+<p>"Aristotle's Politics," nodded Noaks.</p>
+
+<p>"And what were they?" asked the Duke. He was eager for
+sympathy in his love. But so little used was he to seeking
+sympathy that he could not unburden himself. He temporised. Noaks
+muttered something about getting back to work, and fumbled with
+the door-handle.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, my dear fellow, don't go," said the Duke. "Sit down. Our
+Schools don't come on for another year. A few minutes can't make
+a difference in your Class. I want to--to tell you something,
+Noaks. Do sit down."</p>
+
+<p>Noaks sat down on the edge of a chair. The Duke leaned against
+the mantel-piece, facing him. "I suppose, Noaks," he said, "you
+have never been in love."</p>
+
+<p>"Why shouldn't I have been in love?" asked the little man,
+angrily.</p>
+
+<p>"I can't imagine you in love," said the Duke, smiling.</p>
+
+<p>"And I can't imagine YOU. You're too pleased with yourself,"
+growled Noaks.</p>
+
+<p>"Spur your imagination, Noaks," said his friend. "I AM in
+love."</p>
+
+<p>"So am I," was an unexpected answer, and the Duke (whose need
+of sympathy was too new to have taught him sympathy with others)
+laughed aloud. "Whom do you love?" he asked, throwing himself
+into an arm-chair.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know who she is," was another unexpected answer.</p>
+
+<p>"When did you meet her?" asked the Duke. "Where? What did you
+say to her?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yesterday. In the Corn. I didn't SAY anything to her."</p>
+
+<p>"Is she beautiful?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. What's that to you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Dark or fair?"</p>
+
+<p>"She's dark. She looks like a foreigner. She looks like--like
+one of those photographs in the shop-windows."</p>
+
+<p>"A rhapsody, Noaks! What became of her? Was she alone?"</p>
+
+<p>"She was with the old Warden, in his carriage."</p>
+
+<p>Zuleika--Noaks! The Duke started, as at an affront, and
+glared. Next moment, he saw the absurdity of the situation. He
+relapsed into his chair, smiling. "She's the Warden's niece," he
+said. "I dined at the Warden's last night."</p>
+
+<p>Noaks sat still, peering across at the Duke. For the first
+time in his life, he was resentful of the Duke's great elegance
+and average stature, his high lineage and incomputable wealth.
+Hitherto, these things had been too remote for envy. But now,
+suddenly, they seemed near to him--nearer and more overpowering
+than the First in Mods had ever been. "And of course she's in
+love with you?" he snarled.</p>
+
+<p>Really, this was for the Duke a new issue. So salient was his
+own passion that he had not had time to wonder whether it were
+returned. Zuleika's behaviour during dinner . . . But that was
+how so many young women had behaved. It was no sign of
+disinterested love. It might mean merely . . . Yet no! Surely,
+looking into her eyes, he had seen there a radiance finer than
+could have been lit by common ambition. Love, none other, must
+have lit in those purple depths the torches whose clear flames
+had leapt out to him. She loved him. She, the beautiful, the
+wonderful, had not tried to conceal her love for him. She had
+shown him all--had shown all, poor darling! only to be snubbed by
+a prig, driven away by a boor, fled from by a fool. To the
+nethermost corner of his soul, he cursed himself for what he had
+done, and for all he had left undone. He would go to her on his
+knees. He would implore her to impose on him insufferable
+penances. There was no penance, how bittersweet soever, could
+make him a little worthy of her.</p>
+
+<p>"Come in!" he cried mechanically. Entered the landlady's
+daughter.</p>
+
+<p>"A lady downstairs," she said, "asking to see your Grace. Says
+she'll step round again later if your Grace is busy."</p>
+
+<p>"What is her name?" asked the Duke, vacantly. He was gazing at
+the girl with pain-shot eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Zuleika Dobson," pronounced the girl.</p>
+
+<p>He rose.</p>
+
+<p>"Show Miss Dobson up," he said.</p>
+
+<p>Noaks had darted to the looking-glass and was smoothing his
+hair with a tremulous, enormous hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Go!" said the Duke, pointing to the door. Noaks went,
+quickly. Echoes of his boots fell from the upper stairs and met
+the ascending susurrus of a silk skirt.</p>
+
+<p>The lovers met. There was an interchange of ordinary
+greetings: from the Duke, a comment on the weather; from Zuleika,
+a hope that he was well again--they had been so sorry to lose him
+last night. Then came a pause. The landlady's daughter was
+clearing away the breakfast-things. Zuleika glanced
+comprehensively at the room, and the Duke gazed at the hearthrug.
+The landlady's daughter clattered out with her freight. They were
+alone.</p>
+
+<p>"How pretty!" said Zuleika. She was looking at his star of the
+Garter, which sparkled from a litter of books and papers on a
+small side-table.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," he answered. "It is pretty, isn't it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Awfully pretty!" she rejoined.</p>
+
+<p>This dialogue led them to another hollow pause. The Duke's
+heart beat violently within him. Why had he not asked her to take
+the star and keep it as a gift? Too late now! Why could he not
+throw himself at her feet? Here were two beings, lovers of each
+other, with none by. And yet . . .</p>
+
+<p>She was examining a water-colour on the wall, seemed to be
+absorbed by it. He watched her. She was even lovelier than he had
+remembered; or rather her loveliness had been, in some subtle
+way, transmuted. Something had given to her a graver, nobler
+beauty. Last night's nymph had become the Madonna of this
+morning. Despite her dress, which was of a tremendous tartan, she
+diffused the pale authentic radiance of a spirituality most high,
+most simple. The Duke wondered where lay the change in her. He
+could not understand. Suddenly she turned to him, and he
+understood. No longer the black pearl and the pink, but two white
+pearls! . . . He thrilled to his heart's core.</p>
+
+<p>"I hope," said Zuleika, "you aren't awfully vexed with me for
+coming like this?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not at all," said the Duke. "I am delighted to see you." How
+inadequate the words sounded, how formal and stupid!</p>
+
+<p>"The fact is," she continued, "I don't know a soul in Oxford.
+And I thought perhaps you'd give me luncheon, and take me to see
+the boat-races. Will you?"</p>
+
+<p>"I shall be charmed," he said, pulling the bell-rope. Poor
+fool! he attributed the shade of disappointment on Zuleika's face
+to the coldness of his tone. He would dispel that shade. He would
+avow himself. He would leave her no longer in this false
+position. So soon as he had told them about the meal, he would
+proclaim his passion.</p>
+
+<p>The bell was answered by the landlady's daughter.</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Dobson will stay to luncheon," said the Duke. The girl
+withdrew. He wished he could have asked her not to.</p>
+
+<p>He steeled himself. "Miss Dobson," he said, "I wish to
+apologise to you."</p>
+
+<p>Zuleika looked at him eagerly. "You can't give me luncheon?
+You've got something better to do?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. I wish to ask you to forgive me for my behaviour last
+night."</p>
+
+<p>"There is nothing to forgive."</p>
+
+<p>"There is. My manners were vile. I know well what happened.
+Though you, too, cannot have forgotten, I won't spare myself the
+recital. You were my hostess, and I ignored you. Magnanimous, you
+paid me the prettiest compliment woman ever paid to man, and I
+insulted you. I left the house in order that I might not see you
+again. To the doorsteps down which he should have kicked me, your
+grandfather followed me with words of kindliest courtesy. If he
+had sped me with a kick so skilful that my skull had been
+shattered on the kerb, neither would he have outstepped those
+bounds set to the conduct of English gentlemen, nor would you
+have garnered more than a trifle on account of your proper
+reckoning. I do not say that you are the first person whom I have
+wantonly injured. But it is a fact that I, in whom pride has ever
+been the topmost quality, have never expressed sorrow to any one
+for anything. Thus, I might urge that my present abjectness must
+be intolerably painful to me, and should incline you to forgive.
+But such an argument were specious merely. I will be quite frank
+with you. I will confess to you that, in this humbling of myself
+before you, I take a pleasure as passionate as it is strange. A
+confusion of feelings? Yet you, with a woman's instinct, will
+have already caught the clue to it. It needs no mirror to assure
+me that the clue is here for you, in my eyes. It needs no
+dictionary of quotations to remind me that the eyes are the
+windows of the soul. And I know that from two open windows my
+soul has been leaning and signalling to you, in a code far more
+definitive and swifter than words of mine, that I love you."</p>
+
+<p>Zuleika, listening to him, had grown gradually paler and
+paler. She had raised her hands and cowered as though he were
+about to strike her. And then, as he pronounced the last three
+words, she had clasped her hands to her face and with a wild sob
+darted away from him. She was leaning now against the window, her
+head bowed and her shoulders quivering.</p>
+
+<p>The Duke came softly behind her. "Why should you cry? Why
+should you turn away from me? Did I frighten you with the
+suddenness of my words? I am not versed in the tricks of wooing.
+I should have been more patient. But I love you so much that I
+could hardly have waited. A secret hope that you loved me too
+emboldened me, compelled me. You DO love me. I know it. And,
+knowing it, I do but ask you to give yourself to me, to be my
+wife. Why should you cry? Why should you shrink from me? Dear, if
+there were anything . . . any secret . . . if you had ever loved
+and been deceived, do you think I should honour you the less
+deeply, should not cherish you the more tenderly? Enough for me,
+that you are mine. Do you think I should ever reproach you for
+anything that may have--"</p>
+
+<p>Zuleika turned on him. "How dare you?" she gasped. "How dare
+you speak to me like that?"</p>
+
+<p>The Duke reeled back. Horror had come into his eyes. "You do
+not love me!" he cried.</p>
+
+<p>"LOVE you?" she retorted. "YOU?"</p>
+
+<p>"You no longer love me. Why? Why?"</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean?"</p>
+
+<p>"You loved me. Don't trifle with me. You came to me loving me
+with all your heart."</p>
+
+<p>"How do you know?"</p>
+
+<p>"Look in the glass." She went at his bidding. He followed her.
+"You see them?" he said, after a long pause. Zuleika nodded. The
+two pearls quivered to her nod.</p>
+
+<p>"They were white when you came to me," he sighed. "They were
+white because you loved me. From them it was that I knew you
+loved me even as I loved you. But their old colours have come
+back to them. That is how I know that your love for me is
+dead."</p>
+
+<p>Zuleika stood gazing pensively, twitching the two pearls
+between her fingers. Tears gathered in her eyes. She met the
+reflection of her lover's eyes, and her tears brimmed over. She
+buried her face in her hands, and sobbed like a child.</p>
+
+<p>Like a child's, her sobbing ceased quite suddenly. She groped
+for her handkerchief, angrily dried her eyes, and straightened
+and smoothed herself.</p>
+
+<p>"Now I'm going," she said.</p>
+
+<p>"You came here of your own accord, because you loved me," said
+the Duke. "And you shall not go till you have told me why you
+have left off loving me."</p>
+
+<p>"How did you know I loved you?" she asked after a pause. "How
+did you know I hadn't simply put on another pair of
+ear-rings?"</p>
+
+<p>The Duke, with a melancholy laugh, drew the two studs from his
+waistcoat-pocket. "These are the studs I wore last night," he
+said.</p>
+
+<p>Zuleika gazed at them. "I see," she said; then, looking up,
+"When did they become like that?"</p>
+
+<p>"It was when you left the dining-room that I saw the change in
+them."</p>
+
+<p>"How strange! It was when I went into the drawing-room that I
+noticed mine. I was looking in the glass, and"-- She started.
+"Then you were in love with me last night?"</p>
+
+<p>"I began to be in love with you from the moment I saw
+you."</p>
+
+<p>"Then how could you have behaved as you did?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because I was a pedant. I tried to ignore you, as pedants
+always do try to ignore any fact they cannot fit into their pet
+system. The basis of my pet system was celibacy. I don't mean the
+mere state of being a bachelor. I mean celibacy of the
+soul--egoism, in fact. You have converted me from that. I am now
+a confirmed tuist."</p>
+
+<p>"How dared you insult me?" she cried, with a stamp of her
+foot. "How dared you make a fool of me before those people? Oh,
+it is too infamous!"</p>
+
+<p>"I have already asked you to forgive me for that. You said
+there was nothing to forgive."</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't dream that you were in love with me."</p>
+
+<p>"What difference can that make?"</p>
+
+<p>"All the difference! All the difference in life!"</p>
+
+<p>"Sit down! You bewilder me," said the Duke. "Explain
+yourself!" he commanded.</p>
+
+<p>"Isn't that rather much for a man to ask of a woman?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know. I have no experience of women. In the abstract,
+it seems to me that every man has a right to some explanation
+from the woman who has ruined his life."</p>
+
+<p>"You are frightfully sorry for yourself," said Zuleika, with a
+bitter laugh. "Of course it doesn't occur to you that _I_ am at
+all to be pitied. No! you are blind with selfishness. You love
+me--I don't love you: that is all you can realise. Probably you
+think you are the first man who has ever fallen on such a
+plight."</p>
+
+<p>Said the Duke, bowing over a deprecatory hand, "If there were
+to pass my window one tithe of them whose hearts have been lost
+to Miss Dobson, I should win no solace from that interminable
+parade."</p>
+
+<p>Zuleika blushed. "Yet," she said more gently, "be sure they
+would all be not a little envious of YOU! Not one of them ever
+touched the surface of my heart. You stirred my heart to its very
+depths. Yes, you made me love you madly. The pearls told you no
+lie. You were my idol--the one thing in the wide world to me. You
+were so different from any man I had ever seen except in dreams.
+You did not make a fool of yourself. I admired you. I respected
+you. I was all afire with adoration of you. And now," she passed
+her hand across her eyes, "now it is all over. The idol has come
+sliding down its pedestal to fawn and grovel with all the other
+infatuates in the dust about my feet."</p>
+
+<p>The Duke looked thoughtfully at her. "I thought," he said,
+"that you revelled in your power over men's hearts. I had always
+heard that you lived for admiration."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," said Zuleika, "of course I like being admired. Oh yes, I
+like all that very much indeed. In a way, I suppose, I'm even
+pleased that YOU admire me. But oh, what a little miserable
+pleasure that is in comparison with the rapture I have forfeited!
+I had never known the rapture of being in love. I had longed for
+it, but I had never guessed how wonderfully wonderful it was. It
+came to me. I shuddered and wavered like a fountain in the wind.
+I was more helpless and flew lightlier than a shred of
+thistledown among the stars. All night long, I could not sleep
+for love of you; nor had I any desire of sleep, save that it
+might take me to you in a dream. I remember nothing that happened
+to me this morning before I found myself at your door."</p>
+
+<p>"Why did you ring the bell? Why didn't you walk away?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why? I had come to see you, to be near you, to be WITH
+you."</p>
+
+<p>"To force yourself on me."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"You know the meaning of the term 'effective occupation'?
+Having marched in, how could you have held your position,
+unless"--</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, a man doesn't necessarily drive a woman away because he
+isn't in love with her."</p>
+
+<p>"Yet that was what you thought I had done to you last
+night."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, but I didn't suppose you would take the trouble to do it
+again. And if you had, I should have only loved you the more. I
+thought you would most likely be rather amused, rather touched,
+by my importunity. I thought you would take a listless advantage,
+make a plaything of me --the diversion of a few idle hours in
+summer, and then, when you had tired of me, would cast me aside,
+forget me, break my heart. I desired nothing better than that.
+That is what I must have been vaguely hoping for. But I had no
+definite scheme. I wanted to be with you and I came to you. It
+seems years ago, now! How my heart beat as I waited on the
+doorstep! 'Is his Grace at home?' 'I don't know. I'll inquire.
+What name shall I say?' I saw in the girl's eyes that she, too,
+loved you. Have YOU seen that?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have never looked at her," said the Duke.</p>
+
+<p>"No wonder, then, that she loves you," sighed Zuleika. "She
+read my secret at a glance. Women who love the same man have a
+kind of bitter freemasonry. We resented each other. She envied me
+my beauty, my dress. I envied the little fool her privilege of
+being always near to you. Loving you, I could conceive no life
+sweeter than hers--to be always near you; to black your boots,
+carry up your coals, scrub your doorstep; always to be working
+for you, hard and humbly and without thanks. If you had refused
+to see me, I would have bribed that girl with all my jewels to
+cede me her position."</p>
+
+<p>The Duke made a step towards her. "You would do it still," he
+said in a low voice.</p>
+
+<p>Zuleika raised her eyebrows. "I would not offer her one
+garnet," she said, "now."</p>
+
+<p>"You SHALL love me again," he cried. "I will force you to. You
+said just now that you had ceased to love me because I was just
+like other men. I am not. My heart is no tablet of mere wax, from
+which an instant's heat can dissolve whatever impress it may
+bear, leaving it blank and soft for another impress, and another,
+and another. My heart is a bright hard gem, proof against any
+die. Came Cupid, with one of his arrow-points for graver, and
+what he cut on the gem's surface never can be effaced. There,
+deeply and forever, your image is intagliated. No years, nor
+fires, nor cataclysm of total Nature, can efface from that great
+gem your image."</p>
+
+<p>"My dear Duke," said Zuleika, "don't be so silly. Look at the
+matter sensibly. I know that lovers don't try to regulate their
+emotions according to logic; but they do, nevertheless,
+unconsciously conform with some sort of logical system. I left
+off loving you when I found that you loved me. There is the
+premiss. Very well! Is it likely that I shall begin to love you
+again because you can't leave off loving me?"</p>
+
+<p>The Duke groaned. There was a clatter of plates outside, and
+she whom Zuleika had envied came to lay the table for
+luncheon.</p>
+
+<p>A smile flickered across Zuleika's lips; and "Not one garnet!"
+she murmured.</p>
+
+<p>�</p>
+
+<h3>V</h3>
+
+<p>Luncheon passed in almost unbroken silence. Both Zuleika and
+the Duke were ravenously hungry, as people always are after the
+stress of any great emotional crisis. Between them, they made
+very short work of a cold chicken, a salad, a gooseberry-tart and
+a Camembert. The Duke filled his glass again and again. The cold
+classicism of his face had been routed by the new romantic
+movement which had swept over his soul. He looked two or three
+months older than when first I showed him to my reader.</p>
+
+<p>He drank his coffee at one draught, pushed back his chair,
+threw away the cigarette he had just lit. "Listen!" he said.</p>
+
+<p>Zuleika folded her hands on her lap.</p>
+
+<p>"You do not love me. I accept as final your hint that you
+never will love me. I need not say--could not, indeed, ever
+say--how deeply, deeply you have pained me. As lover, I am
+rejected. But that rejection," he continued, striking the table,
+"is no stopper to my suit. It does but drive me to the use of
+arguments. My pride shrinks from them. Love, however, is greater
+than pride; and I, John, Albert, Edward, Claude, Orde, Angus,
+Tankerton,* Tanville-Tankerton,** fourteenth Duke of Dorset,
+Marquis of Dorset, Earl of Grove, Earl of Chastermaine, Viscount
+Brewsby, Baron Grove, Baron Petstrap, and Baron Wolock, in the
+Peerage of England, offer you my hand. Do not interrupt me. Do
+not toss your head. Consider well what I am saying. Weigh the
+advantages you would gain by acceptance of my hand. Indeed, they
+are manifold and tremendous. They are also obvious: do not shut
+your eyes to them. You, Miss Dobson, what are you? A conjurer,
+and a vagrant; without means, save such as you can earn by the
+sleight of your hand; without position; without a home; all
+unguarded but by your own self- respect. That you follow an
+honourable calling, I do not for one moment deny. I do, however,
+ask you to consider how great are its perils and hardships, its
+fatigues and inconveniences. From all these evils I offer you
+instant refuge. I offer you, Miss Dobson, a refuge more glorious
+and more augustly gilded than you, in your airiest flights of
+fancy, can ever have hoped for or imagined. I own about 340,000
+acres. My town-residence is in St. James's Square. Tankerton, of
+which you may have seen photographs, is the chief of my country-
+seats. It is a Tudor house, set on the ridge of a valley. The
+valley, its park, is halved by a stream so narrow that the deer
+leap across. The gardens are estraded upon the slope. Round the
+house runs a wide paven terrace. There are always two or three
+peacocks trailing their sheathed feathers along the balustrade,
+and stepping how stiffly! as though they had just been
+unharnessed from Juno's chariot. Two flights of shallow steps
+lead down to the flowers and fountains. Oh, the gardens are
+wonderful. There is a Jacobean garden of white roses. Between the
+ends of two pleached alleys, under a dome of branches, is a
+little lake, with a Triton of black marble, and with
+water-lilies. Hither and thither under the archipelago of
+water-lilies, dart gold- fish--tongues of flame in the dark
+water. There is also a long strait alley of clipped yew. It ends
+in an alcove for a pagoda of painted porcelain which the Prince
+Regent--peace be to his ashes!--presented to my
+great-grandfather. There are many twisting paths, and sudden
+aspects, and devious, fantastic arbours. Are you fond of horses?
+In my stables of pine-wood and plated-silver seventy are
+installed. Not all of them together could vie in power with one
+of the meanest of my motor-cars."</p>
+
+<p>*Pronounced as Tacton.</p>
+
+<p>**Pronounced as Tavvle-Tacton.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I never go in motors," said Zuleika. "They make one look
+like nothing on earth, and like everybody else."</p>
+
+<p>"I myself," said the Duke, "use them little for that very
+reason. Are you interested in farming? At Tankerton there is a
+model farm which would at any rate amuse you, with its heifers
+and hens and pigs that are like so many big new toys. There is a
+tiny dairy, which is called 'Her Grace's.' You could make,
+therein, real butter with your own hands, and round it into
+little pats, and press every pat with a different device. The
+boudoir that would be yours is a blue room. Four Watteaus hang in
+it. In the dining-hall hang portraits of my forefathers--in
+petto, your forefathers-in-law--by many masters. Are you fond of
+peasants? My tenantry are delightful creatures, and there is not
+one of them who remembers the bringing of the news of the Battle
+of Waterloo. When a new Duchess is brought to Tankerton, the
+oldest elm in the park must be felled. That is one of many
+strange old customs. As she is driven through the village, the
+children of the tenantry must strew the road with daisies. The
+bridal chamber must be lighted with as many candles as years have
+elapsed since the creation of the Dukedom. If you came into it,
+there would be"--and the youth, closing his eyes, made a rapid
+calculation--"exactly three hundred and eighty-eight candles. On
+the eve of the death of a Duke of Dorset, two black owls come and
+perch on the battlements. They remain there through the night,
+hooting. At dawn they fly away, none knows whither. On the eve of
+the death of any other Tanville-Tankerton, comes (no matter what
+be the time of year) a cuckoo. It stays for an hour, cooing, then
+flies away, none knows whither. Whenever this portent occurs, my
+steward telegraphs to me, that I, as head of the family, be not
+unsteeled against the shock of a bereavement, and that my
+authority be sooner given for the unsealing and garnishing of the
+family-vault. Not every forefather of mine rests quiet beneath
+his escutcheoned marble. There are they who revisit, in their
+wrath or their remorse, the places wherein erst they suffered or
+wrought evil. There is one who, every Halloween, flits into the
+dining-hall, and hovers before the portrait which Hans Holbein
+made of him, and flings his diaphanous grey form against the
+canvas, hoping, maybe, to catch from it the fiery flesh-tints and
+the solid limbs that were his, and so to be re-incarnate. He
+flies against the painting, only to find himself t'other side of
+the wall it hangs on. There are five ghosts permanently residing
+in the right wing of the house, two in the left, and eleven in
+the park. But all are quite noiseless and quite harmless. My
+servants, when they meet them in the corridors or on the stairs,
+stand aside to let them pass, thus paying them the respect due to
+guests of mine; but not even the rawest housemaid ever screams or
+flees at sight of them. I, their host, often waylay them and try
+to commune with them; but always they glide past me. And how
+gracefully they glide, these ghosts! It is a pleasure to watch
+them. It is a lesson in deportment. May they never be laid! Of
+all my household- pets, they are the dearest to me. I am Duke of
+Strathsporran and Cairngorm, Marquis of Sorby, and Earl
+Cairngorm, in the Peerage of Scotland. In the glens of the hills
+about Strathsporran are many noble and nimble stags. But I have
+never set foot in my house there, for it is carpeted throughout
+with the tartan of my clan. You seem to like tartan. What tartan
+is it you are wearing?"</p>
+
+<p>Zuleika looked down at her skirt. "I don't know," she said. "I
+got it in Paris."</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said the Duke, "it is very ugly. The Dalbraith tartan
+is harmonious in comparison, and has, at least, the excuse of
+history. If you married me, you would have the right to wear it.
+You would have many strange and fascinating rights. You would go
+to Court. I admit that the Hanoverian Court is not much. Still,
+it is better than nothing. At your presentation, moreover, you
+would be given the entree. Is that nothing to you? You would be
+driven to Court in my statecoach. It is swung so high that the
+streetsters can hardly see its occupant. It is lined with
+rose-silk; and on its panels, and on its hammer-cloth, my arms
+are emblazoned--no one has ever been able to count the
+quarterings. You would be wearing the family-jewels, reluctantly
+surrendered to you by my aunt. They are many and marvellous, in
+their antique settings. I don't want to brag. It humiliates me to
+speak to you as I am speaking. But I am heart-set on you, and to
+win you there is not a precious stone I would leave unturned.
+Conceive a parure all of white stones--diamonds, white sapphires,
+white topazes, tourmalines. Another, of rubies and amethysts, set
+in gold filigree. Rings that once were poison-combs on Florentine
+fingers. Red roses for your hair--every petal a hollowed ruby.
+Amulets and ape-buckles, zones and fillets. Aye! know that you
+would be weeping for wonder before you had seen a tithe of these
+gauds. Know, too, Miss Dobson, that in the Peerage of France I am
+Duc d'Etretat et de la Roche Guillaume. Louis Napoleon gave the
+title to my father for not cutting him in the Bois. I have a
+house in the Champs Elysees. There is a Swiss in its courtyard.
+He stands six-foot- seven in his stockings, and the chasseurs are
+hardly less tall than he. Wherever I go, there are two chefs in
+my retinue. Both are masters in their art, and furiously jealous
+of each other. When I compliment either of them on some dish, the
+other challenges him. They fight with rapiers, next morning, in
+the garden of whatever house I am occupying. I do not know
+whether you are greedy? If so, it may interest you to learn that
+I have a third chef, who makes only souffles, and an Italian
+pastry-cook; to say nothing of a Spaniard for salads, an
+Englishwoman for roasts, and an Abyssinian for coffee. You found
+no trace of their handiwork in the meal you have just had with
+me? No; for in Oxford it is a whim of mine--I may say a point of
+honour--to lead the ordinary life of an undergraduate. What I eat
+in this room is cooked by the heavy and unaided hand of Mrs.
+Batch, my landlady. It is set before me by the unaided and--or
+are you in error?--loving hand of her daughter. Other ministers
+have I none here. I dispense with my private secretaries. I am
+unattended by a single valet. So simple a way of life repels you?
+You would never be called upon to share it. If you married me, I
+should take my name off the books of my College. I propose that
+we should spend our honeymoon at Baiae. I have a villa at Baiae.
+It is there that I keep my grandfather's collection of majolica.
+The sun shines there always. A long olive-grove secretes the
+garden from the sea. When you walk in the garden, you know the
+sea only in blue glimpses through the vacillating leaves.
+White-gleaming from the bosky shade of this grove are several
+goddesses. Do you care for Canova? I don't myself. If you do,
+these figures will appeal to you: they are in his best manner. Do
+you love the sea? This is not the only house of mine that looks
+out on it. On the coast of County Clare --am I not Earl of
+Enniskerry and Baron Shandrin in the Peerage of Ireland?--I have
+an ancient castle. Sheer from a rock stands it, and the sea has
+always raged up against its walls. Many ships lie wrecked under
+that loud implacable sea. But mine is a brave strong castle. No
+storm affrights it; and not the centuries, clustering houris,
+with their caresses can seduce it from its hard austerity. I have
+several titles which for the moment escape me. Baron Llffthwchl
+am I, and . . . and . . . but you can find them for yourself in
+Debrett. In me you behold a Prince of the Holy Roman Empire, and
+a Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Garter. Look well at me!
+I am Hereditary Comber of the Queen's Lap-Dogs. I am young. I am
+handsome. My temper is sweet, and my character without blemish.
+In fine, Miss Dobson, I am a most desirable parti."</p>
+
+<p>"But," said Zuleika, "I don't love you."</p>
+
+<p>The Duke stamped his foot. "I beg your pardon," he said
+hastily. "I ought not to have done that. But--you seem to have
+entirely missed the point of what I was saying."</p>
+
+<p>"No, I haven't," said Zuleika.</p>
+
+<p>"Then what," cried the Duke, standing over her, "what is your
+reply?"</p>
+
+<p>Said Zuleika, looking up at him, "My reply is that I think you
+are an awful snob."</p>
+
+<p>The Duke turned on his heel, and strode to the other end of
+the room. There he stood for some moments, his back to
+Zuleika.</p>
+
+<p>"I think," she resumed in a slow, meditative voice, "that you
+are, with the possible exception of a Mr. Edelweiss, THE most
+awful snob I have ever met."</p>
+
+<p>he Duke looked back over his shoulder. He gave Zuleika the
+stinging reprimand of silence. She was sorry, and showed it in
+her eyes. She felt she had gone too far. True, he was nothing to
+her now. But she had loved him once. She could not forget
+that.</p>
+
+<p>"Come!" she said. "Let us be good friends. Give me your hand!"
+He came to her, slowly. "There!"</p>
+
+<p>The Duke withdrew his fingers before she unclasped them. That
+twice- flung taunt rankled still. It was monstrous to have been
+called a snob. A snob!--he, whose readiness to form what would
+certainly be regarded as a shocking misalliance ought to have
+stifled the charge, not merely vindicated him from it! He had
+forgotten, in the blindness of his love, how shocking the
+misalliance would be. Perhaps she, unloving, had not been so
+forgetful? Perhaps her refusal had been made, generously, for his
+own sake. Nay, rather for her own. Evidently, she had felt that
+the high sphere from which he beckoned was no place for the likes
+of her. Evidently, she feared she would pine away among those
+strange splendours, never be acclimatised, always be unworthy. He
+had thought to overwhelm her, and he had done his work too
+thoroughly. Now he must try to lighten the load he had
+imposed.</p>
+
+<p>Seating himself opposite to her, "You remember," he said,
+"that there is a dairy at Tankerton?"</p>
+
+<p>"A dairy? Oh yes."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you remember what it is called?"</p>
+
+<p>Zuleika knit her brows.</p>
+
+<p>He helped her out. "It is called 'Her Grace's'."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, of course!" said Zuleika.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know WHY it is called so?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, let's see . . . I know you told me."</p>
+
+<p>"Did I? I think not. I will tell you now . . . That cool
+out-house dates from the middle of the eighteenth century. My
+great-great- grandfather, when he was a very old man, married en
+troisiemes noces a dairy-maid on the Tankerton estate. Meg
+Speedwell was her name. He had seen her walking across a field,
+not many months after the interment of his second Duchess, Maria,
+that great and gifted lady. I know not whether it was that her
+bonny mien fanned in him some embers of his youth, or that he was
+loth to be outdone in gracious eccentricity by his crony the Duke
+of Dewlap, who himself had just taken a bride from a dairy. (You
+have read Meredith's account of that affair? No? You should.)
+Whether it was veritable love or mere modishness that formed my
+ancestor's resolve, presently the bells were ringing out, and the
+oldest elm in the park was being felled, in Meg Speedwell's
+honour, and the children were strewing daisies on which Meg
+Speedwell trod, a proud young hoyden of a bride, with her head in
+the air and her heart in the seventh heaven. The Duke had given
+her already a horde of fine gifts; but these, he had said, were
+nothing--trash in comparison with the gift that was to ensure for
+her a perdurable felicity. After the wedding-breakfast, when all
+the squires had ridden away on their cobs, and all the squires'
+ladies in their coaches, the Duke led his bride forth from the
+hall, leaning on her arm, till they came to a little edifice of
+new white stone, very spick and span, with two lattice- windows
+and a bright green door between. This he bade her enter.
+A-flutter with excitement, she turned the handle. In a moment she
+flounced back, red with shame and anger--flounced forth from the
+fairest, whitest, dapperest dairy, wherein was all of the best
+that the keenest dairy-maid might need. The Duke bade her dry her
+eyes, for that it ill befitted a great lady to be weeping on her
+wedding-day. 'As for gratitude,' he chuckled, 'zounds! that is a
+wine all the better for the keeping.' Duchess Meg soon forgot
+this unworthy wedding-gift, such was her rapture in the other,
+the so august, appurtenances of her new life. What with her fine
+silk gowns and farthingales, and her powder-closet, and the
+canopied bed she slept in--a bed bigger far than the room she had
+slept in with her sisters, and standing in a room far bigger than
+her father's cottage; and what with Betty, her maid, who had
+pinched and teased her at the village-school, but now waited on
+her so meekly and trembled so fearfully at a scolding; and what
+with the fine hot dishes that were set before her every day, and
+the gallant speeches and glances of the fine young gentlemen whom
+the Duke invited from London, Duchess Meg was quite the happiest
+Duchess in all England. For a while, she was like a child in a
+hay-rick. But anon, as the sheer delight of novelty wore away,
+she began to take a more serious view of her position. She began
+to realise her responsibilities. She was determined to do all
+that a great lady ought to do. Twice every day she assumed the
+vapours. She schooled herself in the mysteries of Ombre, of
+Macao. She spent hours over the tambour-frame. She rode out on
+horse-back, with a riding-master. She had a music-master to teach
+her the spinet; a dancing-master, too, to teach her the Minuet
+and the Triumph and the Gaudy. All these accomplishments she
+found mighty hard. She was afraid of her horse. All the morning,
+she dreaded the hour when it would be brought round from the
+stables. She dreaded her dancing-lesson. Try as she would, she
+could but stamp her feet flat on the parquet, as though it had
+been the village-green. She dreaded her music-lesson. Her
+fingers, disobedient to her ambition, clumsily thumped the keys
+of the spinet, and by the notes of the score propped up before
+her she was as cruelly perplexed as by the black and red pips of
+the cards she conned at the gaming-table, or by the red and gold
+threads that were always straying and snapping on her
+tambour-frame. Still she persevered. Day in, day out, sullenly,
+she worked hard to be a great lady. But skill came not to her,
+and hope dwindled; only the dull effort remained. One
+accomplishment she did master--to wit, the vapours: they became
+for her a dreadful reality. She lost her appetite for the fine
+hot dishes. All night long she lay awake, restless, tearful,
+under the fine silk canopy, till dawn stared her into slumber.
+She seldom scolded Betty. She who had been so lusty and so
+blooming saw in her mirror that she was pale and thin now; and
+the fine young gentlemen, seeing it too, paid more heed now to
+their wine and their dice than to her. And always, when she met
+him, the Duke smiled the same mocking smile. Duchess Meg was
+pining slowly and surely away . . . One morning, in Spring-time,
+she altogether vanished. Betty, bringing the cup of chocolate to
+the bedside, found the bed empty. She raised the alarm among her
+fellows. They searched high and low. Nowhere was their mistress.
+The news was broken to their master, who, without comment, rose,
+bade his man dress him, and presently walked out to the place
+where he knew he would find her. And there, to be sure, she was,
+churning, churning for dear life. Her sleeves were rolled above
+her elbows, and her skirt was kilted high; and, as she looked
+back over her shoulder and saw the Duke, there was the flush of
+roses in her cheeks, and the light of a thousand thanks in her
+eyes. 'Oh,' she cried, 'what a curtsey I would drop you, but that
+to let go the handle were to spoil all!' And every morning, ever
+after, she woke when the birds woke, rose when they rose, and
+went singing through the dawn to the dairy, there to practise for
+her pleasure that sweet and lowly handicraft which she had once
+practised for her need. And every evening, with her milking-stool
+under her arm, and her milk-pail in her hand, she went into the
+field and called the cows to her, as she had been wont to do. To
+those other, those so august, accomplishments she no more
+pretended. She gave them the go-by. And all the old zest and
+joyousness of her life came back to her. Soundlier than ever
+slept she, and sweetlier dreamed, under the fine silk canopy,
+till the birds called her to her work. Greater than ever was her
+love of the fine furbelows that were hers to flaunt in, and
+sharper her appetite for the fine hot dishes, and more
+tempestuous her scolding of Betty, poor maid. She was more than
+ever now the cynosure, the adored, of the fine young gentlemen.
+And as for her husband, she looked up to him as the wisest,
+kindest man in all the world."</p>
+
+<p>"And the fine young gentlemen," said Zuleika, "did she fall in
+love with any of them?"</p>
+
+<p>"You forget," said the Duke coldly, "she was married to a
+member of my family."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I beg your pardon. But tell me: did they ALL adore
+her?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. Every one of them, wildly, madly."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah," murmured Zuleika, with a smile of understanding. A
+shadow crossed her face, "Even so," she said, with some pique, "I
+don't suppose she had so very many adorers. She never went out
+into the world."</p>
+
+<p>"Tankerton," said the Duke drily, "is a large house, and my
+great- great-grandfather was the most hospitable of men.
+However," he added, marvelling that she had again missed the
+point so utterly, "my purpose was not to confront you with a past
+rival in conquest, but to set at rest a fear which I had, I
+think, roused in you by my somewhat full description of the high
+majestic life to which you, as my bride, would be
+translated."</p>
+
+<p>"A fear? What sort of a fear?"</p>
+
+<p>"That you would not breathe freely--that you would starve (if
+I may use a somewhat fantastic figure) among those
+strawberry-leaves. And so I told you the story of Meg Speedwell,
+and how she lived happily ever after. Nay, hear me out! The blood
+of Meg Speedwell's lord flows in my veins. I think I may boast
+that I have inherited something of his sagacity. In any case, I
+can profit by his example. Do not fear that I, if you were to wed
+me, should demand a metamorphosis of your present self. I should
+take you as you are, gladly. I should encourage you to be always
+exactly as you are--a radiant, irresistible member of the upper
+middle-class, with a certain freedom of manner acquired through a
+life of peculiar liberty. Can you guess what would be my
+principal wedding-gift to you? Meg Speedwell had her dairy. For
+you, would be built another outhouse--a neat hall wherein you
+would perform your conjuring-tricks, every evening except Sunday,
+before me and my tenants and my servants, and before such of my
+neighbours as might care to come. None would respect you the
+less, seeing that I approved. Thus in you would the pleasant
+history of Meg Speedwell repeat itself. You, practising for your
+pleasure--nay, hear me out!--that sweet and lowly handicraft
+which--"</p>
+
+<p>"I won't listen to another word!" cried Zuleika. "You are the
+most insolent person I have ever met. I happen to come of a
+particularly good family. I move in the best society. My manners
+are absolutely perfect. If I found myself in the shoes of twenty
+Duchesses simultaneously, I should know quite well how to behave.
+As for the one pair you can offer me, I kick them away--so. I
+kick them back at you. I tell you--"</p>
+
+<p>"Hush," said the Duke, "hush! You are over-excited. There will
+be a crowd under my window. There, there! I am sorry. I
+thought--"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I know what you thought," said Zuleika, in a quieter
+tone. "I am sure you meant well. I am sorry I lost my temper.
+Only, you might have given me credit for meaning what I said:
+that I would not marry you, because I did not love you. I daresay
+there would be great advantages in being your Duchess. But the
+fact is, I have no worldly wisdom. To me, marriage is a
+sacrament. I could no more marry a man about whom I could not
+make a fool of myself than I could marry one who made a fool of
+himself about me. Else had I long ceased to be a spinster. Oh my
+friend, do not imagine that I have not rejected, in my day, a
+score of suitors quite as eligible as you."</p>
+
+<p>"As eligible? Who were they?" frowned the Duke.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Archduke this, and Grand Duke that, and His Serene
+Highness the other. I have a wretched memory for names."</p>
+
+<p>"And my name, too, will soon escape you, perhaps?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. Oh, no. I shall always remember yours. You see, I was in
+love with you. You deceived me into loving you . . ." She sighed.
+"Oh, had you but been as strong as I thought you . . . Still, a
+swain the more. That is something." She leaned forward, smiling
+archly. "Those studs--show me them again."</p>
+
+<p>The Duke displayed them in the hollow of his hand. She touched
+them lightly, reverently, as a tourist touches a sacred relic in
+a church.</p>
+
+<p>At length, "Do give me them," she said. "I will keep them in a
+little secret partition of my jewel-case." The Duke had closed
+his fist. "Do!" she pleaded. "My other jewels--they have no
+separate meanings for me. I never remember who gave me this one
+or that. These would be quite different. I should always remember
+their history . . . Do!"</p>
+
+<p>"Ask me for anything else," said the Duke. "These are the one
+thing I could not part with--even to you, for whose sake they are
+hallowed."</p>
+
+<p>Zuleika pouted. On the verge of persisting, she changed her
+mind, and was silent.</p>
+
+<p>"Well!" she said abruptly, "how about these races? Are you
+going to take me to see them?"</p>
+
+<p>"Races? What races?" murmured the Duke. "Oh yes. I had
+forgotten. Do you really mean that you want to see them?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, of course! They are great fun, aren't they?"</p>
+
+<p>"And you are in a mood for great fun? Well, there is plenty of
+time. The Second Division is not rowed till half-past four."</p>
+
+<p>"The Second Division? Why not take me to the First?"</p>
+
+<p>"That is not rowed till six."</p>
+
+<p>"Isn't this rather an odd arrangement?"</p>
+
+<p>"No doubt. But Oxford never pretended to be strong in
+mathematics."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, it's not yet three!" cried Zuleika, with a woebegone
+stare at the clock. "What is to be done in the meantime?"</p>
+
+<p>"Am not I sufficiently diverting?" asked the Duke
+bitterly.</p>
+
+<p>"Quite candidly, no. Have you any friend lodging with you
+here?"</p>
+
+<p>"One, overhead. A man named Noaks."</p>
+
+<p>"A small man, with spectacles?"</p>
+
+<p>"Very small, with very large spectacles."</p>
+
+<p>"He was pointed out to me yesterday, as I was driving from the
+Station . . . No, I don't think I want to meet him. What can you
+have in common with him?"</p>
+
+<p>"One frailty, at least: he, too, Miss Dobson, loves you."</p>
+
+<p>"But of course he does. He saw me drive past. Very few of the
+others," she said, rising and shaking herself, "have set eyes on
+me. Do let us go out and look at the Colleges. I do need change
+of scene. If you were a doctor, you would have prescribed that
+long ago. It is very bad for me to be here, a kind of Cinderella,
+moping over the ashes of my love for you. Where is your hat?"</p>
+
+<p>Looking round, she caught sight of herself in the glass. "Oh,"
+she cried, "what a fright I do look! I must never be seen like
+this!"</p>
+
+<p>"You look very beautiful."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't. That is a lover's illusion. You yourself told me
+that this tartan was perfectly hideous. There was no need to tell
+me that. I came thus because I was coming to see you. I chose
+this frock in the deliberate fear that you, if I made myself
+presentable, might succumb at second sight of me. I would have
+sent out for a sack and dressed myself in that, I would have
+blacked my face all over with burnt cork, only I was afraid of
+being mobbed on the way to you."</p>
+
+<p>"Even so, you would but have been mobbed for your incorrigible
+beauty."</p>
+
+<p>"My beauty! How I hate it!" sighed Zuleika. "Still, here it
+is, and I must needs make the best of it. Come! Take me to Judas.
+I will change my things. Then I shall be fit for the races."</p>
+
+<p>As these two emerged, side by side, into the street, the
+Emperors exchanged stony sidelong glances. For they saw the more
+than normal pallor of the Duke's face, and something very like
+desperation in his eyes. They saw the tragedy progressing to its
+foreseen close. Unable to stay its course, they were grimly
+fascinated now.</p>
+
+<p>�</p>
+
+<h3>VI</h3>
+
+<p>"The evil that men do lives after them; the good is oft
+interred with their bones." At any rate, the sinner has a better
+chance than the saint of being hereafter remembered. We, in whom
+original sin preponderates, find him easier to understand. He is
+near to us, clear to us. The saint is remote, dim. A very great
+saint may, of course, be remembered through some sheer force of
+originality in him; and then the very mystery that involves him
+for us makes him the harder to forget: he haunts us the more
+surely because we shall never understand him. But the ordinary
+saints grow faint to posterity; whilst quite ordinary sinners
+pass vividly down the ages.</p>
+
+<p>Of the disciples of Jesus, which is he that is most often
+remembered and cited by us? Not the disciple whom Jesus loved;
+neither of the Boanerges, nor any other of them who so
+steadfastly followed Him and served Him; but the disciple who
+betrayed Him for thirty pieces of silver. Judas Iscariot it is
+who outstands, overshadowing those other fishermen. And perhaps
+it was by reason of this precedence that Christopher Whitrid,
+Knight, in the reign of Henry VI., gave the name of Judas to the
+College which he had founded. Or perhaps it was because he felt
+that in a Christian community not even the meanest and basest of
+men should be accounted beneath contempt, beyond redemption.</p>
+
+<p>At any rate, thus he named his foundation. And, though for
+Oxford men the savour of the name itself has long evaporated
+through its local connexion, many things show that for the
+Founder himself it was no empty vocable. In a niche above the
+gate stands a rudely carved statue of Judas, holding a money-bag
+in his right hand. Among the original statutes of the College is
+one by which the Bursar is enjoined to distribute in Passion Week
+thirty pieces of silver among the needier scholars "for saike of
+atonynge." The meadow adjoining the back of the College has been
+called from time immemorial "the Potter's Field." And the name of
+Salt Cellar is not less ancient and significant.</p>
+
+<p>Salt Cellar, that grey and green quadrangle visible from the
+room assigned to Zuleika, is very beautiful, as I have said. So
+tranquil is it as to seem remote not merely from the world, but
+even from Oxford, so deeply is it hidden away in the core of
+Oxford's heart. So tranquil is it, one would guess that nothing
+had ever happened in it. For five centuries these walls have
+stood, and during that time have beheld, one would say, no sight
+less seemly than the good work of weeding, mowing, rolling, that
+has made, at length, so exemplary the lawn. These cloisters that
+grace the south and east sides--five centuries have passed
+through them, leaving in them no echo, leaving on them no sign,
+of all that the outer world, for good or evil, has been doing so
+fiercely, so raucously.</p>
+
+<p>And yet, if you are versed in the antiquities of Oxford, you
+know that this small, still quadrangle has played its part in the
+rough-and- tumble of history, and has been the background of high
+passions and strange fates. The sun-dial in its midst has told
+the hours to more than one bygone King. Charles I. lay for twelve
+nights in Judas; and it was here, in this very quadrangle, that
+he heard from the lips of a breathless and blood-stained
+messenger the news of Chalgrove Field. Sixty years later, James,
+his son, came hither, black with threats, and from one of the
+hind-windows of the Warden's house--maybe, from the very room
+where now Zuleika was changing her frock--addressed the Fellows,
+and presented to them the Papist by him chosen to be their
+Warden, instead of the Protestant whom they had elected. They
+were not of so stern a stuff as the Fellows of Magdalen, who,
+despite His Majesty's menaces, had just rejected Bishop Farmer.
+The Papist was elected, there and then, al fresco, without
+dissent. Cannot one see them, these Fellows of Judas, huddled
+together round the sun-dial, like so many sheep in a storm? The
+King's wrath, according to a contemporary record, was so appeased
+by their pliancy that he deigned to lie for two nights in Judas,
+and at a grand refection in Hall "was gracious and merrie."
+Perhaps it was in lingering gratitude for such patronage that
+Judas remained so pious to his memory even after smug
+Herrenhausen had been dumped down on us for ever. Certainly, of
+all the Colleges none was more ardent than Judas for James
+Stuart. Thither it was that young Sir Harry Esson led, under
+cover of night, three- score recruits whom he had enlisted in the
+surrounding villages. The cloisters of Salt Cellar were piled
+with arms and stores; and on its grass--its sacred grass!--the
+squad was incessantly drilled, against the good day when Ormond
+should land his men in Devon. For a whole month Salt Cellar was a
+secret camp. But somehow, at length--woe to "lost causes and
+impossible loyalties"--Herrenhausen had wind of it; and one
+night, when the soldiers of the white cockade lay snoring beneath
+the stars, stealthily the white-faced Warden unbarred his
+postern--that very postern through which now Zuleika had passed
+on the way to her bedroom--and stealthily through it, one by one
+on tip-toe, came the King's foot-guards. Not many shots rang out,
+nor many swords clashed, in the night air, before the trick was
+won for law and order. Most of the rebels were overpowered in
+their sleep; and those who had time to snatch arms were too dazed
+to make good resistance. Sir Harry Esson himself was the only one
+who did not live to be hanged. He had sprung up alert, sword in
+hand, at the first alarm, setting his back to the cloisters.
+There he fought calmly, ferociously, till a bullet went through
+his chest. "By God, this College is well-named!" were the words
+he uttered as he fell forward and died.</p>
+
+<p>Comparatively tame was the scene now being enacted in this
+place. The Duke, with bowed head, was pacing the path between the
+lawn and the cloisters. Two other undergraduates stood watching
+him, whispering to each other, under the archway that leads to
+the Front Quadrangle. Presently, in a sheepish way, they
+approached him. He halted and looked up.</p>
+
+<p>"I say," stammered the spokesman.</p>
+
+<p>"Well?" asked the Duke. Both youths were slightly acquainted
+with him; but he was not used to being spoken to by those whom he
+had not first addressed. Moreover, he was loth to be thus
+disturbed in his sombre reverie. His manner was not
+encouraging.</p>
+
+<p>"Isn't it a lovely day for the Eights?" faltered the
+spokesman.</p>
+
+<p>"I conceive," the Duke said, "that you hold back some other
+question."</p>
+
+<p>The spokesman smiled weakly. Nudged by the other, he muttered
+"Ask him yourself!"</p>
+
+<p>The Duke diverted his gaze to the other, who, with an angry
+look at the one, cleared his throat, and said "I was going to ask
+if you thought Miss Dobson would come and have luncheon with me
+to-morrow?"</p>
+
+<p>"A sister of mine will be there," explained the one, knowing
+the Duke to be a precisian.</p>
+
+<p>"If you are acquainted with Miss Dobson, a direct invitation
+should be sent to her," said the Duke. "If you are not--" The
+aposiopesis was icy.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you see," said the other of the two, "that is just the
+difficulty. I AM acquainted with her. But is she acquainted with
+ME? I met her at breakfast this morning, at the Warden's."</p>
+
+<p>"So did I," added the one.</p>
+
+<p>"But she--well," continued the other, "she didn't take much
+notice of us. She seemed to be in a sort of dream."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah!" murmured the Duke, with melancholy interest.</p>
+
+<p>"The only time she opened her lips," said the other, "was when
+she asked us whether we took tea or coffee."</p>
+
+<p>"She put hot milk in my tea," volunteered the one, "and upset
+the cup over my hand, and smiled vaguely."</p>
+
+<p>"And smiled vaguely," sighed the Duke.</p>
+
+<p>"She left us long before the marmalade stage," said the
+one.</p>
+
+<p>"Without a word," said the other.</p>
+
+<p>"Without a glance?" asked the Duke. It was testified by the
+one and the other that there had been not so much as a
+glance.</p>
+
+<p>"Doubtless," the disingenuous Duke said, "she had a headache .
+. . Was she pale?"</p>
+
+<p>"Very pale," answered the one.</p>
+
+<p>"A healthy pallor," qualified the other, who was a constant
+reader of novels.</p>
+
+<p>"Did she look," the Duke inquired, "as if she had spent a
+sleepless night?"</p>
+
+<p>That was the impression made on both.</p>
+
+<p>"Yet she did not seem listless or unhappy?"</p>
+
+<p>No, they would not go so far as to say that.</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed, were her eyes of an almost unnatural brilliance?"</p>
+
+<p>"Quite unnatural," confessed the one.</p>
+
+<p>"Twin stars," interpolated the other.</p>
+
+<p>"Did she, in fact, seem to be consumed by some inward
+rapture?"</p>
+
+<p>Yes, now they came to think of it, this was exactly how she
+HAD seemed.</p>
+
+<p>It was sweet, it was bitter, for the Duke. "I remember,"
+Zuleika had said to him, "nothing that happened to me this
+morning till I found myself at your door." It was bitter-sweet to
+have that outline filled in by these artless pencils. No, it was
+only bitter, to be, at his time of life, living in the past.</p>
+
+<p>"The purpose of your tattle?" he asked coldly.</p>
+
+<p>The two youths hurried to the point from which he had diverted
+them. "When she went by with you just now," said the one, "she
+evidently didn't know us from Adam."</p>
+
+<p>"And I had so hoped to ask her to luncheon," said the
+other.</p>
+
+<p>"Well?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, we wondered if you would re-introduce us. And then
+perhaps . . ."</p>
+
+<p>There was a pause. The Duke was touched to kindness for these
+fellow- lovers. He would fain preserve them from the anguish that
+beset himself. So humanising is sorrow.</p>
+
+<p>"You are in love with Miss Dobson?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>Both nodded.</p>
+
+<p>"Then," said he, "you will in time be thankful to me for not
+affording you further traffic with that lady. To love and be
+scorned--does Fate hold for us a greater inconvenience? You think
+I beg the question? Let me tell you that I, too, love Miss
+Dobson, and that she scorns me."</p>
+
+<p>To the implied question "What chance would there be for you?"
+the reply was obvious.</p>
+
+<p>Amazed, abashed, the two youths turned on their heels.</p>
+
+<p>"Stay!" said the Duke. "Let me, in justice to myself, correct
+an inference you may have drawn. It is not by reason of any
+defect in myself, perceived or imagined, that Miss Dobson scorns
+me. She scorns me simply because I love her. All who love her she
+scorns. To see her is to love her. Therefore shut your eyes to
+her. Strictly exclude her from your horizon. Ignore her. Will you
+do this?"</p>
+
+<p>"We will try," said the one, after a pause.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you very much," added the other.</p>
+
+<p>The Duke watched them out of sight. He wished he could take
+the good advice he had given them . . . Suppose he did take it!
+Suppose he went to the Bursar, obtained an exeat, fled straight
+to London! What just humiliation for Zuleika to come down and
+find her captive gone! He pictured her staring around the
+quadrangle, ranging the cloisters, calling to him. He pictured
+her rustling to the gate of the College, inquiring at the
+porter's lodge. "His Grace, Miss, he passed through a minute ago.
+He's going down this afternoon."</p>
+
+<p>Yet, even while his fancy luxuriated in this scheme, he well
+knew that he would not accomplish anything of the kind--knew well
+that he would wait here humbly, eagerly, even though Zuleika
+lingered over her toilet till crack o' doom. He had no desire
+that was not centred in her. Take away his love for her, and what
+remained? Nothing--though only in the past twenty-four hours had
+this love been added to him. Ah, why had he ever seen her? He
+thought of his past, its cold splendour and insouciance. But he
+knew that for him there was no returning. His boats were burnt.
+The Cytherean babes had set their torches to that flotilla, and
+it had blazed like match-wood. On the isle of the enchantress he
+was stranded for ever. For ever stranded on the isle of an
+enchantress who would have nothing to do with him! What, he
+wondered, should be done in so piteous a quandary? There seemed
+to be two courses. One was to pine slowly and painfully away. The
+other . . .</p>
+
+<p>Academically, the Duke had often reasoned that a man for whom
+life holds no chance of happiness cannot too quickly shake life
+off. Now, of a sudden, there was for that theory a vivid
+application.</p>
+
+<p>"Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer" was not a point by
+which he, "more an antique Roman than a Dane," was at all
+troubled. Never had he given ear to that cackle which is called
+Public Opinion. The judgment of his peers--this, he had often
+told himself, was the sole arbitrage he could submit to; but
+then, who was to be on the bench? Peerless, he was
+irresponsible--the captain of his soul, the despot of his future.
+No injunction but from himself would he bow to; and his own
+injunctions--so little Danish was he--had always been peremptory
+and lucid. Lucid and peremptory, now, the command he issued to
+himself.</p>
+
+<p>"So sorry to have been so long," carolled a voice from above.
+The Duke looked up. "I'm all but ready," said Zuleika at her
+window.</p>
+
+<p>That brief apparition changed the colour of his resolve. He
+realised that to die for love of this lady would be no mere
+measure of precaution, or counsel of despair. It would be in
+itself a passionate indulgence--a fiery rapture, not to be
+foregone. What better could he ask than to die for his love? Poor
+indeed seemed to him now the sacrament of marriage beside the
+sacrament of death. Death was incomparably the greater, the finer
+soul. Death was the one true bridal.</p>
+
+<p>He flung back his head, spread wide his arms, quickened his
+pace almost to running speed. Ah, he would win his bride before
+the setting of the sun. He knew not by what means he would win
+her. Enough that even now, full-hearted, fleet-footed, he was on
+his way to her, and that she heard him coming.</p>
+
+<p>When Zuleika, a vision in vaporous white, came out through the
+postern, she wondered why he was walking at so remarkable a pace.
+To him, wildly expressing in his movement the thought within him,
+she appeared as his awful bride. With a cry of joy, he bounded
+towards her, and would have caught her in his arms, had she not
+stepped nimbly aside.</p>
+
+<p>"Forgive me!" he said, after a pause. "It was a mistake--an
+idiotic mistake of identity. I thought you were . . ."</p>
+
+<p>Zuleika, rigid, asked "Have I many doubles?"</p>
+
+<p>"You know well that in all the world is none so blest as to be
+like you. I can only say that I was over-wrought. I can only say
+that it shall not occur again."</p>
+
+<p>She was very angry indeed. Of his penitence there could be no
+doubt. But there are outrages for which no penitence can atone.
+This seemed to be one of them. Her first impulse was to dismiss
+the Duke forthwith and for ever. But she wanted to show herself
+at the races. And she could not go alone. And except the Duke
+there was no one to take her. True, there was the concert
+to-night; and she could show herself there to advantage; but she
+wanted ALL Oxford to see her--see her NOW.</p>
+
+<p>"I am forgiven?" he asked. In her, I am afraid, self-respect
+outweighed charity. "I will try," she said merely, "to forget
+what you have done." Motioning him to her side, she opened her
+parasol, and signified her readiness to start.</p>
+
+<p>They passed together across the vast gravelled expanse of the
+Front Quadrangle. In the porch of the College there were, as
+usual, some chained-up dogs, patiently awaiting their masters.
+Zuleika, of course, did not care for dogs. One has never known a
+good man to whom dogs were not dear; but many of the best women
+have no such fondness. You will find that the woman who is really
+kind to dogs is always one who has failed to inspire sympathy in
+men. For the attractive woman, dogs are mere dumb and restless
+brutes--possibly dangerous, certainly soulless. Yet will coquetry
+teach her to caress any dog in the presence of a man enslaved by
+her. Even Zuleika, it seems, was not above this rather obvious
+device for awaking envy. Be sure she did not at all like the look
+of the very big bulldog who was squatting outside the porter's
+lodge. Perhaps, but for her present anger, she would not have
+stooped endearingly down to him, as she did, cooing over him and
+trying to pat his head. Alas, her pretty act was a failure. The
+bulldog cowered away from her, horrifically grimacing. This was
+strange. Like the majority of his breed, Corker (for such was his
+name) had ever been wistful to be noticed by any one--effusively
+grateful for every word or pat, an ever-ready wagger and nuzzler,
+to none ineffable. No beggar, no burglar, had ever been rebuffed
+by this catholic beast. But he drew the line at Zuleika.</p>
+
+<p>Seldom is even a fierce bulldog heard to growl. Yet Corker
+growled at Zuleika.</p>
+
+<p>�</p>
+
+<h3>VII</h3>
+
+<p>The Duke did not try to break the stony silence in which
+Zuleika walked. Her displeasure was a luxury to him, for it was
+so soon to be dispelled. A little while, and she would be hating
+herself for her pettiness. Here was he, going to die for her; and
+here was she, blaming him for a breach of manners. Decidedly, the
+slave had the whip-hand. He stole a sidelong look at her, and
+could not repress a smile. His features quickly composed
+themselves. The Triumph of Death must not be handled as a cheap
+score. He wanted to die because he would thereby so poignantly
+consummate his love, express it so completely, once and for all .
+. . And she--who could say that she, knowing what he had done,
+might not, illogically, come to love him? Perhaps she would
+devote her life to mourning him. He saw her bending over his
+tomb, in beautiful humble curves, under a starless sky, watering
+the violets with her tears.</p>
+
+<p>Shades of Novalis and Friedrich Schlegel and other despicable
+maunderers! He brushed them aside. He would be practical. The
+point was, when and how to die? Time: the sooner the better.
+Manner: . . less easy to determine. He must not die horribly, nor
+without dignity. The manner of the Roman philosophers? But the
+only kind of bath which an undergraduate can command is a
+hip-bath. Stay! there was the river. Drowning (he had often
+heard) was a rather pleasant sensation. And to the river he was
+even now on his way.</p>
+
+<p>It troubled him that he could swim. Twice, indeed, from his
+yacht, he had swum the Hellespont. And how about the animal
+instinct of self- preservation, strong even in despair? No
+matter! His soul's set purpose would subdue that. The law of
+gravitation that brings one to the surface? There his very skill
+in swimming would help him. He would swim under water, along the
+river-bed, swim till he found weeds to cling to, weird strong
+weeds that he would coil round him, exulting faintly . . .</p>
+
+<p>As they turned into Radcliffe Square, the Duke's ear caught
+the sound of a far-distant gun. He started, and looked up at the
+clock of St. Mary's. Half-past four! The boats had started.</p>
+
+<p>He had heard that whenever a woman was to blame for a
+disappointment, the best way to avoid a scene was to inculpate
+oneself. He did not wish Zuleika to store up yet more material
+for penitence. And so "I am sorry," he said. "That gun--did you
+hear it? It was the signal for the race. I shall never forgive
+myself."</p>
+
+<p>"Then we shan't see the race at all?" cried Zuleika.</p>
+
+<p>"It will be over, alas, before we are near the river. All the
+people will be coming back through the meadows."</p>
+
+<p>"Let us meet them."</p>
+
+<p>"Meet a torrent? Let us have tea in my rooms and go down
+quietly for the other Division."</p>
+
+<p>"Let us go straight on."</p>
+
+<p>Through the square, across the High, down Grove Street, they
+passed. The Duke looked up at the tower of Merton, "os oupot
+authis alla nyn paunstaton." Strange that to-night it would still
+be standing here, in all its sober and solid beauty--still be
+gazing, over the roofs and chimneys, at the tower of Magdalen,
+its rightful bride. Through untold centuries of the future it
+would stand thus, gaze thus. He winced. Oxford walls have a way
+of belittling us; and the Duke was loth to regard his doom as
+trivial.</p>
+
+<p>Aye, by all minerals we are mocked. Vegetables, yearly
+deciduous, are far more sympathetic. The lilac and laburnum,
+making lovely now the railed pathway to Christ Church meadow,
+were all a-swaying and a-nodding to the Duke as he passed by.
+"Adieu, adieu, your Grace," they were whispering. "We are very
+sorry for you--very sorry indeed. We never dared suppose you
+would predecease us. We think your death a very great tragedy.
+Adieu! Perhaps we shall meet in another world-- that is, if the
+members of the animal kingdom have immortal souls, as we
+have."</p>
+
+<p>The Duke was little versed in their language; yet, as he
+passed between these gently garrulous blooms, he caught at least
+the drift of their salutation, and smiled a vague but courteous
+acknowledgment, to the right and the left alternately, creating a
+very favourable impression.</p>
+
+<p>No doubt, the young elms lining the straight way to the barges
+had seen him coming; but any whispers of their leaves were lost
+in the murmur of the crowd returning from the race. Here, at
+length, came the torrent of which the Duke had spoken; and
+Zuleika's heart rose at it. Here was Oxford! From side to side
+the avenue was filled with a dense procession of youths--youths
+interspersed with maidens whose parasols were as flotsam and
+jetsam on a seething current of straw hats. Zuleika neither
+quickened nor slackened her advance. But brightlier and
+brightlier shone her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>The vanguard of the procession was pausing now, swaying,
+breaking at sight of her. She passed, imperial, through the way
+cloven for her. All a-down the avenue, the throng parted as
+though some great invisible comb were being drawn through it. The
+few youths who had already seen Zuleika, and by whom her beauty
+had been bruited throughout the University, were lost in a new
+wonder, so incomparably fairer was she than the remembered
+vision. And the rest hardly recognised her from the descriptions,
+so incomparably fairer was the reality than the hope.</p>
+
+<p>She passed among them. None questioned the worthiness of her
+escort. Could I give you better proof the awe in which our Duke
+was held? Any man is glad to be seen escorting a very pretty
+woman. He thinks it adds to his prestige. Whereas, in point of
+fact, his fellow-men are saying merely "Who's that appalling
+fellow with her?" or "Why does she go about with that ass
+So-and-So?" Such cavil may in part be envy. But it is a fact that
+no man, howsoever graced, can shine in juxtaposition to a very
+pretty woman. The Duke himself cut a poor figure beside Zuleika.
+Yet not one of all the undergraduates felt she could have made a
+wiser choice.</p>
+
+<p>She swept among them. Her own intrinsic radiance was not all
+that flashed from her. She was a moving reflector and refractor
+of all the rays of all the eyes that mankind had turned on her.
+Her mien told the story of her days. Bright eyes, light feet--she
+trod erect from a vista whose glare was dazzling to all
+beholders. She swept among them, a miracle, overwhelming,
+breath-bereaving. Nothing at all like her had ever been seen in
+Oxford.</p>
+
+<p>Mainly architectural, the beauties of Oxford. True, the place
+is no longer one-sexed. There are the virguncules of Somerville
+and Lady Margaret's Hall; but beauty and the lust for learning
+have yet to be allied. There are the innumerable wives and
+daughters around the Parks, running in and out of their little
+red-brick villas; but the indignant shade of celibacy seems to
+have called down on the dons a Nemesis which precludes them from
+either marrying beauty or begetting it. (From the Warden's son,
+that unhappy curate, Zuleika inherited no tittle of her charm.
+Some of it, there is no doubt, she did inherit from the
+circus-rider who was her mother.)</p>
+
+<p>But the casual feminine visitors? Well, the sisters and
+cousins of an undergraduate seldom seem more passable to his
+comrades than to himself. Altogether, the instinct of sex is not
+pandered to in Oxford. It is not, however, as it may once have
+been, dormant. The modern importation of samples of femininity
+serves to keep it alert, though not to gratify it. A like result
+is achieved by another modern development--photography. The
+undergraduate may, and usually does, surround himself with
+photographs of pretty ladies known to the public. A phantom
+harem! Yet the houris have an effect on their sultan. Surrounded
+both by plain women of flesh and blood and by beauteous women on
+pasteboard, the undergraduate is the easiest victim of living
+loveliness--is as a fire ever well and truly laid, amenable to a
+spark. And if the spark be such a flaring torch as Zuleika?--
+marvel not, reader, at the conflagration.</p>
+
+<p>Not only was the whole throng of youths drawing asunder before
+her: much of it, as she passed, was forming up in her wake. Thus,
+with the confluence of two masses--one coming away from the
+river, the other returning to it--chaos seethed around her and
+the Duke before they were half-way along the avenue. Behind them,
+and on either side of them, the people were crushed inextricably
+together, swaying and surging this way and that. "Help!" cried
+many a shrill feminine voice. "Don't push!" "Let me out!" "You
+brute!" "Save me, save me!" Many ladies fainted, whilst their
+escorts, supporting them and protecting them as best they could,
+peered over the heads of their fellows for one glimpse of the
+divine Miss Dobson. Yet for her and the Duke, in the midst of the
+terrific compress, there was space enough. In front of them, as
+by a miracle of deference, a way still cleared itself. They
+reached the end of the avenue without a pause in their measured
+progress. Nor even when they turned to the left, along the rather
+narrow path beside the barges, was there any obstacle to their
+advance. Passing evenly forward, they alone were cool, unhustled,
+undishevelled.</p>
+
+<p>The Duke was so rapt in his private thoughts that he was
+hardly conscious of the strange scene. And as for Zuleika, she,
+as well she might be, was in the very best of good humours.</p>
+
+<p>"What a lot of house-boats!" she exclaimed. "Are you going to
+take me on to one of them?"</p>
+
+<p>The Duke started. Already they were alongside the Judas barge.
+"Here," he said, "is our goal."</p>
+
+<p>He stepped through the gate of the railings, out upon the
+plank, and offered her his hand.</p>
+
+<p>She looked back. The young men in the vanguard were crushing
+their shoulders against the row behind them, to stay the oncoming
+host. She had half a mind to go back through the midst of them;
+but she really did want her tea, and she followed the Duke on to
+the barge, and under his auspices climbed the steps to the
+roof.</p>
+
+<p>It looked very cool and gay, this roof, under its awning of
+red and white stripes. Nests of red and white flowers depended
+along either side of it. Zuleika moved to the side which
+commanded a view of the bank. She leaned her arms on the
+balustrade, and gazed down.</p>
+
+<p>The crowd stretched as far as she could see--a vista of faces
+upturned to her. Suddenly it hove forward. Its vanguard was swept
+irresistibly past the barge--swept by the desire of the rest to
+see her at closer quarters. Such was the impetus that the vision
+for each man was but a lightning-flash: he was whirled past,
+struggling, almost before his brain took the message of his
+eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Those who were Judas men made frantic efforts to board the
+barge, trying to hurl themselves through the gate in the
+railings; but they were swept vainly on.</p>
+
+<p>Presently the torrent began to slacken, became a mere river, a
+mere procession of youths staring up rather shyly.</p>
+
+<p>Before the last stragglers had marched by, Zuleika moved away
+to the other side of the roof, and, after a glance at the sunlit
+river, sank into one of the wicker chairs, and asked the Duke to
+look less disagreeable and to give her some tea.</p>
+
+<p>Among others hovering near the little buffet were the two
+youths whose parley with the Duke I have recorded.</p>
+
+<p>Zuleika was aware of the special persistence of their gaze.
+When the Duke came back with her cup, she asked him who they
+were. He replied, truthfully enough, that their names were
+unknown to him.</p>
+
+<p>"Then," she said, "ask them their names, and introduce them to
+me."</p>
+
+<p>"No," said the Duke, sinking into the chair beside her. "That
+I shall not do. I am your victim: not your pander. Those two men
+stand on the threshold of a possibly useful and agreeable career.
+I am not going to trip them up for you."</p>
+
+<p>"I am not sure," said Zuleika, "that you are very polite.
+Certainly you are foolish. It is natural for boys to fall in
+love. If these two are in love with me, why not let them talk to
+me? It were an experience on which they would always look back
+with romantic pleasure. They may never see me again. Why grudge
+them this little thing?" She sipped her tea. "As for tripping
+them up on a threshold-- that is all nonsense. What harm has
+unrequited love ever done to anybody?" She laughed. "Look at ME!
+When I came to your rooms this morning, thinking I loved in vain,
+did I seem one jot the worse for it? Did I look different?"</p>
+
+<p>"You looked, I am bound to say, nobler, more spiritual."</p>
+
+<p>"More spiritual?" she exclaimed. "Do you mean I looked tired
+or ill?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, you seemed quite fresh. But then, you are singular. You
+are no criterion."</p>
+
+<p>"You mean you can't judge those two young men by me? Well, I
+am only a woman, of course. I have heard of women, no longer
+young, wasting away because no man loved them. I have often heard
+of a young woman fretting because some particular young man
+didn't love her. But I never heard of her wasting away. Certainly
+a young man doesn't waste away for love of some particular young
+woman. He very soon makes love to some other one. If his be an
+ardent nature, the quicker his transition. All the most ardent of
+my past adorers have married. Will you put my cup down,
+please?"</p>
+
+<p>"Past?" echoed the Duke, as he placed her cup on the floor.
+"Have any of your lovers ceased to love you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ah no, no; not in retrospect. I remain their ideal, and all
+that, of course. They cherish the thought of me. They see the
+world in terms of me. But I am an inspiration, not an obsession;
+a glow, not a blight."</p>
+
+<p>"You don't believe in the love that corrodes, the love that
+ruins?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," laughed Zuleika.</p>
+
+<p>"You have never dipped into the Greek pastoral poets, nor
+sampled the Elizabethan sonneteers?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, never. You will think me lamentably crude: my experience
+of life has been drawn from life itself."</p>
+
+<p>"Yet often you talk as though you had read rather much. Your
+way of speech has what is called 'the literary flavour'."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, that is an unfortunate trick which I caught from a
+writer, a Mr. Beerbohm, who once sat next to me at dinner
+somewhere. I can't break myself of it. I assure you I hardly ever
+open a book. Of life, though, my experience has been very wide.
+Brief? But I suppose the soul of man during the past two or three
+years has been much as it was in the reign of Queen Elizabeth and
+of--whoever it was that reigned over the Greek pastures. And I
+daresay the modern poets are making the same old silly
+distortions. But forgive me," she added gently, "perhaps you
+yourself are a poet?"</p>
+
+<p>"Only since yesterday," answered the Duke (not less unfairly
+to himself than to Roger Newdigate and Thomas Gaisford). And he
+felt he was especially a dramatic poet. All the while that she
+had been sitting by him here, talking so glibly, looking so
+straight into his eyes, flashing at him so many pretty gestures,
+it was the sense of tragic irony that prevailed in him--that
+sense which had stirred in him, and been repressed, on the way
+from Judas. He knew that she was making her effect consciously
+for the other young men by whom the roof of the barge was now
+thronged. Him alone she seemed to observe. By her manner, she
+might have seemed to be making love to him. He envied the men she
+was so deliberately making envious--the men whom, in her
+undertone to him, she was really addressing. But he did take
+comfort in the irony. Though she used him as a stalking-horse,
+he, after all, was playing with her as a cat plays with a mouse.
+While she chattered on, without an inkling that he was no
+ordinary lover, and coaxing him to present two quite ordinary
+young men to her, he held over her the revelation that he for
+love of her was about to die.</p>
+
+<p>And, while he drank in the radiance of her beauty, he heard
+her chattering on. "So you see," she was saying, "it couldn't do
+those young men any harm. Suppose unrequited love IS anguish:
+isn't the discipline wholesome? Suppose I AM a sort of furnace:
+shan't I purge, refine, temper? Those two boys are but scorched
+from here. That is horrid; and what good will it do them?" She
+laid a hand on his arm. "Cast them into the furnace for their own
+sake, dear Duke! Or cast one of them, or," she added, glancing
+round at the throng, "any one of these others!"</p>
+
+<p>"For their own sake?" he echoed, withdrawing his arm. "If you
+were not, as the whole world knows you to be, perfectly
+respectable, there might be something in what you say. But as it
+is, you can but be an engine for mischief; and your sophistries
+leave me unmoved. I shall certainly keep you to myself."</p>
+
+<p>"I hate you," said Zuleika, with an ugly petulance that
+crowned the irony.</p>
+
+<p>"So long as I live," uttered the Duke, in a level voice, "you
+will address no man but me."</p>
+
+<p>"If your prophecy is to be fulfilled," laughed Zuleika, rising
+from her chair, "your last moment is at hand."</p>
+
+<p>"It is," he answered, rising too.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean?" she asked, awed by something in his
+tone.</p>
+
+<p>"I mean what I say: that my last moment is at hand." He
+withdrew his eyes from hers, and, leaning his elbows on the
+balustrade, gazed thoughtfully at the river. "When I am dead," he
+added, over his shoulder, "you will find these fellows rather coy
+of your advances."</p>
+
+<p>For the first time since his avowal of his love for her,
+Zuleika found herself genuinely interested in him. A suspicion of
+his meaning had flashed through her soul. --But no! surely he
+could not mean THAT! It must have been a metaphor merely. And
+yet, something in his eyes . . . She leaned beside him. Her
+shoulder touched his. She gazed questioningly at him. He did not
+turn his face to her. He gazed at the sunlit river.</p>
+
+<p>The Judas Eight had just embarked for their voyage to the
+starting- point. Standing on the edge of the raft that makes a
+floating platform for the barge, William, the hoary bargee, was
+pushing them off with his boat-hook, wishing them luck with
+deferential familiarity. The raft was thronged with Old
+Judasians--mostly clergymen--who were shouting hearty hortations,
+and evidently trying not to appear so old as they felt--or
+rather, not to appear so startlingly old as their contemporaries
+looked to them. It occurred to the Duke as a strange thing, and a
+thing to be glad of, that he, in this world, would never be an
+Old Judasian. Zuleika's shoulder pressed his. He thrilled not at
+all. To all intents, he was dead already.</p>
+
+<p>The enormous eight young men in the thread-like skiff--the
+skiff that would scarce have seemed an adequate vehicle for the
+tiny "cox" who sat facing them--were staring up at Zuleika with
+that uniformity of impulse which, in another direction, had
+enabled them to bump a boat on two of the previous "nights." If
+to-night they bumped the next boat, Univ., then would Judas be
+three places "up" on the river; and to-morrow Judas would have a
+Bump Supper. Furthermore, if Univ. were bumped to-night, Magdalen
+might be bumped to-morrow. Then would Judas, for the first time
+in history, be head of the river. Oh tremulous hope! Yet, for the
+moment, these eight young men seemed to have forgotten the awful
+responsibility that rested on their over-developed shoulders.
+Their hearts, already strained by rowing, had been transfixed
+this afternoon by Eros' darts. All of them had seen Zuleika as
+she came down to the river; and now they sat gaping up at her,
+fumbling with their oars. The tiny cox gaped too; but he it was
+who first recalled duty. With piping adjurations he brought the
+giants back to their senses. The boat moved away down stream,
+with a fairly steady stroke.</p>
+
+<p>Not in a day can the traditions of Oxford be sent spinning.
+From all the barges the usual punt-loads of young men were being
+ferried across to the towing-path--young men naked of knee, armed
+with rattles, post-horns, motor-hooters, gongs, and other
+instruments of clangour. Though Zuleika filled their thoughts,
+they hurried along the towing-path, as by custom, to the
+starting-point.</p>
+
+<p>She, meanwhile, had not taken her eyes off the Duke's profile.
+Nor had she dared, for fear of disappointment, to ask him just
+what he had meant.</p>
+
+<p>"All these men," he repeated dreamily, "will be coy of your
+advances." It seemed to him a good thing that his death, his
+awful example, would disinfatuate his fellow alumni. He had never
+been conscious of public spirit. He had lived for himself alone.
+Love had come to him yesternight, and to-day had waked in him a
+sympathy with mankind. It was a fine thing to be a saviour. It
+was splendid to be human. He looked quickly round to her who had
+wrought this change in him.</p>
+
+<p>But the loveliest face in all the world will not please you if
+you see it suddenly, eye to eye, at a distance of half an inch
+from your own. It was thus that the Duke saw Zuleika's: a
+monstrous deliquium a-glare. Only for the fraction of an instant,
+though. Recoiling, he beheld the loveliness that he knew--more
+adorably vivid now in its look of eager questioning. And in his
+every fibre he thrilled to her. Even so had she gazed at him last
+night, this morning. Aye, now as then, her soul was full of him.
+He had recaptured, not her love, but his power to please her. It
+was enough. He bowed his head; and "Moriturus te saluto" were the
+words formed silently by his lips. He was glad that his death
+would be a public service to the University. But the salutary
+lesson of what the newspapers would call his "rash act" was,
+after all, only a side-issue. The great thing, the prospect that
+flushed his cheek, was the consummation of his own love, for its
+own sake, by his own death. And, as he met her gaze, the question
+that had already flitted through his brain found a faltering
+utterance; and "Shall you mourn me?" he asked her.</p>
+
+<p>But she would have no ellipses. "What are you going to do?"
+she whispered.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you not know?"</p>
+
+<p>"Tell me."</p>
+
+<p>"Once and for all: you cannot love me?"</p>
+
+<p>Slowly she shook her head. The black pearl and the pink,
+quivering, gave stress to her ultimatum. But the violet of her
+eyes was all but hidden by the dilation of her pupils.</p>
+
+<p>"Then," whispered the Duke, "when I shall have died, deeming
+life a vain thing without you, will the gods give you tears for
+me? Miss Dobson, will your soul awaken? When I shall have sunk
+for ever beneath these waters whose supposed purpose here this
+afternoon is but that they be ploughed by the blades of these
+young oarsmen, will there be struck from that flint, your heart,
+some late and momentary spark of pity for me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why of course, of COURSE!" babbled Zuleika, with clasped
+hands and dazzling eyes. "But," she curbed herself, "it is--it
+would--oh, you mustn't THINK of it! I couldn't allow it! I--I
+should never forgive myself!"</p>
+
+<p>"In fact, you would mourn me always?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why yes! . . Y-es-always." What else could she say? But would
+his answer be that he dared not condemn her to lifelong
+torment?</p>
+
+<p>"Then," his answer was, "my joy in dying for you is made
+perfect."</p>
+
+<p>Her muscles relaxed. Her breath escaped between her teeth.
+"You are utterly resolved?" she asked. "Are you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Utterly."</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing I might say could change your purpose?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing."</p>
+
+<p>"No entreaty, howsoever piteous, could move you?"</p>
+
+<p>"None."</p>
+
+<p>Forthwith she urged, entreated, cajoled, commanded, with
+infinite prettiness of ingenuity and of eloquence. Never was such
+a cascade of dissuasion as hers. She only didn't say she could
+love him. She never hinted that. Indeed, throughout her pleading
+rang this recurrent motif: that he must live to take to himself
+as mate some good, serious, clever woman who would be a not
+unworthy mother of his children.</p>
+
+<p>She laid stress on his youth, his great position, his
+brilliant attainments, the much he had already achieved, the
+splendid possibilities of his future. Though of course she spoke
+in undertones, not to be overheard by the throng on the barge, it
+was almost as though his health were being floridly proposed at
+some public banquet --say, at a Tenants' Dinner. Insomuch that,
+when she ceased, the Duke half expected Jellings, his steward, to
+bob up uttering, with lifted hands, a stentorian "For-or," and
+all the company to take up the chant: "he's--a jolly good
+fellow." His brief reply, on those occasions, seemed always to
+indicate that, whatever else he might be, a jolly good fellow he
+was not. But by Zuleika's eulogy he really was touched. "Thank
+you--thank you," he gasped; and there were tears in his eyes.
+Dear the thought that she so revered him, so wished him not to
+die. But this was no more than a rush-light in the austere
+radiance of his joy in dying for her.</p>
+
+<p>And the time was come. Now for the sacrament of his immersion
+in infinity.</p>
+
+<p>"Good-bye," he said simply, and was about to swing himself on
+to the ledge of the balustrade. Zuleika, divining his intention,
+made way for him. Her bosom heaved quickly, quickly. All colour
+had left her face; but her eyes shone as never before.</p>
+
+<p>Already his foot was on the ledge, when hark! the sound of a
+distant gun. To Zuleika, with all the chords of her soul strung
+to the utmost tensity, the effect was as if she herself had been
+shot; and she clutched at the Duke's arm, like a frightened
+child. He laughed. "It was the signal for the race," he said, and
+laughed again, rather bitterly, at the crude and trivial
+interruption of high matters.</p>
+
+<p>"The race?" She laughed hysterically.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. 'They're off'." He mingled his laughter with hers,
+gently seeking to disengage his arm. "And perhaps," he said, "I,
+clinging to the weeds of the river's bed, shall see dimly the
+boats and the oars pass over me, and shall be able to gurgle a
+cheer for Judas."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't!" she shuddered, with a woman's notion that a jest
+means levity. A tumult of thoughts surged in her, all confused.
+She only knew that he must not die--not yet! A moment ago, his
+death would have been beautiful. Not now! Her grip of his arm
+tightened. Only by breaking her wrist could he have freed
+himself. A moment ago, she had been in the seventh-heaven . . .
+Men were supposed to have died for love of her. It had never been
+proved. There had always been something--card-debts, ill-health,
+what not--to account for the tragedy. No man, to the best of her
+recollection, had ever hinted that he was going to die for her.
+Never, assuredly, had she seen the deed done. And then came he,
+the first man she had loved, going to die here, before her eyes,
+because she no longer loved him. But she knew now that he must
+not die--not yet!</p>
+
+<p>All around her was the hush that falls on Oxford when the
+signal for the race has sounded. In the distance could be heard
+faintly the noise of cheering--a little sing-song sound, drawing
+nearer.</p>
+
+<p>Ah, how could she have thought of letting him die so soon? She
+gazed into his face--the face she might never have seen again.
+Even now, but for that gun-shot, the waters would have closed
+over him, and his soul, maybe, have passed away. She had saved
+him, thank heaven! She had him still with her.</p>
+
+<p>Gently, vainly, he still sought to unclasp her fingers from
+his arm.</p>
+
+<p>"Not now!" she whispered. "Not yet!"</p>
+
+<p>And the noise of the cheering, and of the trumpeting and
+rattling, as it drew near, was an accompaniment to her joy in
+having saved her lover. She would keep him with her--for a while!
+Let all be done in order. She would savour the full sweetness of
+his sacrifice. Tomorrow--to-morrow, yes, let him have his heart's
+desire of death. Not now! Not yet!</p>
+
+<p>"To-morrow," she whispered, "to-morrow, if you will. Not
+yet!"</p>
+
+<p>The first boat came jerking past in mid-stream; and the
+towing-path, with its serried throng of runners, was like a live
+thing, keeping pace. As in a dream, Zuleika saw it. And the din
+was in her ears. No heroine of Wagner had ever a louder
+accompaniment than had ours to the surging soul within her
+bosom.</p>
+
+<p>And the Duke, tightly held by her, vibrated as to a powerful
+electric current. He let her cling to him, and her magnetism
+range through him. Ah, it was good not to have died! Fool, he had
+meant to drain off- hand, at one coarse draught, the delicate
+wine of death. He would let his lips caress the brim of the
+august goblet. He would dally with the aroma that was there.</p>
+
+<p>"So be it!" he cried into Zuleika's ear--cried loudly, for it
+seemed as though all the Wagnerian orchestras of Europe, with the
+Straussian ones thrown in, were here to clash in unison the full
+volume of right music for the glory of the reprieve.</p>
+
+<p>The fact was that the Judas boat had just bumped Univ.,
+exactly opposite the Judas barge. The oarsmen in either boat sat
+humped, panting, some of them rocking and writhing, after their
+wholesome exercise. But there was not one of them whose eyes were
+not upcast at Zuleika. And the vocalisation and instrumentation
+of the dancers and stampers on the towing-path had by this time
+ceased to mean aught of joy in the victors or of comfort for the
+vanquished, and had resolved itself into a wild wordless hymn to
+the glory of Miss Dobson. Behind her and all around her on the
+roof of the barge, young Judasians were venting in like manner
+their hearts through their lungs. She paid no heed. It was as if
+she stood alone with her lover on some silent pinnacle of the
+world. It was as if she were a little girl with a brand-new and
+very expensive doll which had banished all the little other old
+toys from her mind.</p>
+
+<p>She simply could not, in her naive rapture, take her eyes off
+her companion. To the dancers and stampers of the towing-path,
+many of whom were now being ferried back across the river, and to
+the other youths on the roof of the barge, Zuleika's air of
+absorption must have seemed a little strange. For already the
+news that the Duke loved Zuleika, and that she loved him not, and
+would stoop to no man who loved her, had spread like wild-fire
+among the undergraduates. The two youths in whom the Duke had
+deigned to confide had not held their peace. And the effect that
+Zuleika had made as she came down to the river was intensified by
+the knowledge that not the great paragon himself did she deem
+worthy of her. The mere sight of her had captured young Oxford.
+The news of her supernal haughtiness had riveted the chains.</p>
+
+<p>"Come!" said the Duke at length, staring around him with the
+eyes of one awakened from a dream. "Come! I must take you back to
+Judas."</p>
+
+<p>"But you won't leave me there?" pleaded Zuleika. "You will
+stay to dinner? I am sure my grandfather would be delighted."</p>
+
+<p>"I am sure he would," said the Duke, as he piloted her down
+the steps of the barge. "But alas, I have to dine at the Junta
+to-night."</p>
+
+<p>"The Junta? What is that?"</p>
+
+<p>"A little dining-club. It meets every Tuesday."</p>
+
+<p>"But--you don't mean you are going to refuse me for that?"</p>
+
+<p>"To do so is misery. But I have no choice. I have asked a
+guest."</p>
+
+<p>"Then ask another: ask me!" Zuleika's notions of Oxford life
+were rather hazy. It was with difficulty that the Duke made her
+realise that he could not--not even if, as she suggested, she
+dressed herself up as a man--invite her to the Junta. She then
+fell back on the impossibility that he would not dine with her
+to-night, his last night in this world. She could not understand
+that admirable fidelity to social engagements which is one of the
+virtues implanted in the members of our aristocracy. Bohemian by
+training and by career, she construed the Duke's refusal as
+either a cruel slight to herself or an act of imbecility. The
+thought of being parted from her for one moment was torture to
+him; but "noblesse oblige," and it was quite impossible for him
+to break an engagement merely because a more charming one offered
+itself: he would as soon have cheated at cards.</p>
+
+<p>And so, as they went side by side up the avenue, in the mellow
+light of the westering sun, preceded in their course, and
+pursued, and surrounded, by the mob of hoarse infatuate youths,
+Zuleika's face was as that of a little girl sulking. Vainly the
+Duke reasoned with her. She could NOT see the point of view.</p>
+
+<p>With that sudden softening that comes to the face of an angry
+woman who has hit on a good argument, she turned to him and asked
+"How if I hadn't saved your life just now? Much you thought about
+your guest when you were going to dive and die!"</p>
+
+<p>"I did not forget him," answered the Duke, smiling at her
+casuistry. "Nor had I any scruple in disappointing him. Death
+cancels all engagements."</p>
+
+<p>And Zuleika, worsted, resumed her sulking. But presently, as
+they neared Judas, she relented. It was paltry to be cross with
+him who had resolved to die for her and was going to die so on
+the morrow. And after all, she would see him at the concert
+to-night. They would sit together. And all to-morrow they would
+be together, till the time came for parting. Hers was a naturally
+sunny disposition. And the evening was such a lovely one, all
+bathed in gold. She was ashamed of her ill-humour.</p>
+
+<p>"Forgive me," she said, touching his arm. "Forgive me for
+being horrid." And forgiven she promptly was. "And promise you
+will spend all to-morrow with me." And of course he promised.</p>
+
+<p>As they stood together on the steps of the Warden's
+front-door, exalted above the level of the flushed and swaying
+crowd that filled the whole length and breadth of Judas Street,
+she implored him not to be late for the concert.</p>
+
+<p>"I am never late," he smiled.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, you're so beautifully brought up!"</p>
+
+<p>The door was opened.</p>
+
+<p>"And--oh, you're beautiful besides!" she whispered; and waved
+her hand to him as she vanished into the hall.</p>
+
+<p>�</p>
+
+<h3>VIII</h3>
+
+<p>A few minutes before half-past seven, the Duke, arrayed for
+dinner, passed leisurely up the High. The arresting feature of
+his costume was a mulberry-coloured coat, with brass buttons.
+This, to any one versed in Oxford lore, betokened him a member of
+the Junta. It is awful to think that a casual stranger might have
+mistaken him for a footman. It does not do to think of such
+things.</p>
+
+<p>The tradesmen, at the doors of their shops, bowed low as he
+passed, rubbing their hands and smiling, hoping inwardly that
+they took no liberty in sharing the cool rosy air of the evening
+with his Grace. They noted that he wore in his shirt-front a
+black pearl and a pink. "Daring, but becoming," they opined.</p>
+
+<p>The rooms of the Junta were over a stationer's shop, next door
+but one to the Mitre. They were small rooms; but as the Junta had
+now, besides the Duke, only two members, and as no member might
+introduce more than one guest, there was ample space.</p>
+
+<p>The Duke had been elected in his second term. At that time
+there were four members; but these were all leaving Oxford at the
+end of the summer term, and there seemed to be in the ranks of
+the Bullingdon and the Loder no one quite eligible for the Junta,
+that holy of holies. Thus it was that the Duke inaugurated in
+solitude his second year of membership. From time to time, he
+proposed and seconded a few candidates, after "sounding" them as
+to whether they were willing to join. But always, when election
+evening--the last Tuesday of term-- drew near, he began to have
+his doubts about these fellows. This one was "rowdy"; that one
+was over-dressed; another did not ride quite straight to hounds;
+in the pedigree of another a bar-sinister was more than
+suspected. Election evening was always a rather melancholy time.
+After dinner, when the two club servants had placed on the
+mahogany the time-worn Candidates' Book and the ballot-box, and
+had noiselessly withdrawn, the Duke, clearing his throat, read
+aloud to himself "Mr. So-and-So, of Such-and-Such College,
+proposed by the Duke of Dorset, seconded by the Duke of Dorset,"
+and, in every case, when he drew out the drawer of the
+ballot-box, found it was a black-ball that he had dropped into
+the urn. Thus it was that at the end of the summer term the
+annual photographic "group" taken by Messrs. Hills and Saunders
+was a presentment of the Duke alone.</p>
+
+<p>In the course of his third year he had become less exclusive.
+Not because there seemed to be any one really worthy of the
+Junta; but because the Junta, having thriven since the eighteenth
+century, must not die. Suppose--one never knew--he were struck by
+lightning, the Junta would be no more. So, not without
+reluctance, but unanimously, he had elected The MacQuern, of
+Balliol, and Sir John Marraby, of Brasenose.</p>
+
+<p>To-night, as he, a doomed man, went up into the familiar
+rooms, he was wholly glad that he had thus relented. As yet, he
+was spared the tragic knowledge that it would make no
+difference.*</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>* The Junta has been reconstituted. But the apostolic line was
+broken, the thread was snapped; the old magic is fled.</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>The MacQuern and two other young men were already there.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. President," said The MacQuern, "I present Mr.
+Trent-Garby, of Christ Church."</p>
+
+<p>"The Junta is honoured," said the Duke, bowing.</p>
+
+<p>Such was the ritual of the club.</p>
+
+<p>The other young man, because his host, Sir John Marraby, was
+not yet on the scene, had no locus standi, and, though a friend
+of The MacQuern, and well known to the Duke, had to be
+ignored.</p>
+
+<p>A moment later, Sir John arrived. "Mr. President," he said, "I
+present Lord Sayes, of Magdalen."</p>
+
+<p>"The Junta is honoured," said the Duke, bowing.</p>
+
+<p>Both hosts and both guests, having been prominent in the
+throng that vociferated around Zuleika an hour earlier, were
+slightly abashed in the Duke's presence. He, however, had not
+noticed any one in particular, and, even if he had, that fine
+tradition of the club--"A member of the Junta can do no wrong; a
+guest of the Junta cannot err"--would have prevented him from
+showing his displeasure.</p>
+
+<p>A Herculean figure filled the doorway.</p>
+
+<p>"The Junta is honoured," said the Duke, bowing to his
+guest.</p>
+
+<p>"Duke," said the newcomer quietly, "the honour is as much mine
+as that of the interesting and ancient institution which I am
+this night privileged to inspect."</p>
+
+<p>Turning to Sir John and The MacQuern, the Duke said "I present
+Mr. Abimelech V. Oover, of Trinity."</p>
+
+<p>"The Junta," they replied, "is honoured."</p>
+
+<p>"Gentlemen," said the Rhodes Scholar, "your good courtesy is
+just such as I would have anticipated from members of the ancient
+Junta. Like most of my countrymen, I am a man of few words. We
+are habituated out there to act rather than talk. Judged from the
+view-point of your beautiful old civilisation, I am aware my
+curtness must seem crude. But, gentlemen, believe me, right
+here--"</p>
+
+<p>"Dinner is served, your Grace."</p>
+
+<p>Thus interrupted, Mr. Oover, with the resourcefulness of a
+practised orator, brought his thanks to a quick but not abrupt
+conclusion. The little company passed into the front room.</p>
+
+<p>Through the window, from the High, fading daylight mingled
+with the candle-light. The mulberry coats of the hosts,
+interspersed by the black ones of the guests, made a fine pattern
+around the oval table a-gleam with the many curious pieces of
+gold and silver plate that had accrued to the Junta in course of
+years.</p>
+
+<p>The President showed much deference to his guest. He seemed to
+listen with close attention to the humorous anecdote with which,
+in the American fashion, Mr. Oover inaugurated dinner.</p>
+
+<p>To all Rhodes Scholars, indeed, his courtesy was invariable.
+He went out of his way to cultivate them. And this he did more as
+a favour to Lord Milner than of his own caprice. He found these
+Scholars, good fellows though they were, rather oppressive. They
+had not--how could they have?--the undergraduate's virtue of
+taking Oxford as a matter of course. The Germans loved it too
+little, the Colonials too much. The Americans were, to a
+sensitive observer, the most troublesome--as being the most
+troubled--of the whole lot. The Duke was not one of those
+Englishmen who fling, or care to hear flung, cheap sneers at
+America. Whenever any one in his presence said that America was
+not large in area, he would firmly maintain that it was. He held,
+too, in his enlightened way, that Americans have a perfect right
+to exist. But he did often find himself wishing Mr. Rhodes had
+not enabled them to exercise that right in Oxford. They were so
+awfully afraid of having their strenuous native characters
+undermined by their delight in the place. They held that the
+future was theirs, a glorious asset, far more glorious than the
+past. But a theory, as the Duke saw, is one thing, an emotion
+another. It is so much easier to covet what one hasn't than to
+revel in what one has. Also, it is so much easier to be
+enthusiastic about what exists than about what doesn't. The
+future doesn't exist. The past does. For, whereas all men can
+learn, the gift of prophecy has died out. A man cannot work up in
+his breast any real excitement about what possibly won't happen.
+He cannot very well help being sentimentally interested in what
+he knows has happened. On the other hand, he owes a duty to his
+country. And, if his country be America, he ought to try to feel
+a vivid respect for the future, and a cold contempt for the past.
+Also, if he be selected by his country as a specimen of the best
+moral, physical, and intellectual type that she can produce for
+the astounding of the effete foreigner, and incidentally for the
+purpose of raising that foreigner's tone, he must--mustn't
+he?--do his best to astound, to exalt. But then comes in this
+difficulty. Young men don't like to astound and exalt their
+fellows. And Americans, individually, are of all people the most
+anxious to please. That they talk overmuch is often taken as a
+sign of self-satisfaction. It is merely a mannerism. Rhetoric is
+a thing inbred in them. They are quite unconscious of it. It is
+as natural to them as breathing. And, while they talk on, they
+really do believe that they are a quick, businesslike people, by
+whom things are "put through" with an almost brutal abruptness.
+This notion of theirs is rather confusing to the patient English
+auditor.</p>
+
+<p>Altogether, the American Rhodes Scholars, with their splendid
+native gift of oratory, and their modest desire to please, and
+their not less evident feeling that they ought merely to edify,
+and their constant delight in all that of Oxford their English
+brethren don't notice, and their constant fear that they are
+being corrupted, are a noble, rather than a comfortable, element
+in the social life of the University. So, at least, they seemed
+to the Duke.</p>
+
+<p>And to-night, but that he had invited Oover to dine with him,
+he could have been dining with Zuleika. And this was his last
+dinner on earth. Such thoughts made him the less able to take
+pleasure in his guest. Perfect, however, the amenity of his
+manner.</p>
+
+<p>This was the more commendable because Oover's "aura" was even
+more disturbing than that of the average Rhodes Scholar.
+To-night, besides the usual conflicts in this young man's bosom,
+raged a special one between his desire to behave well and his
+jealousy of the man who had to-day been Miss Dobson's escort. In
+theory he denied the Duke's right to that honour. In sentiment he
+admitted it. Another conflict, you see. And another. He longed to
+orate about the woman who had his heart; yet she was the one
+topic that must be shirked.</p>
+
+<p>The MacQuern and Mr. Trent-Garby, Sir John Marraby and Lord
+Sayes, they too--though they were no orators--would fain have
+unpacked their hearts in words about Zuleika. They spoke of this
+and that, automatically, none listening to another--each man
+listening, wide- eyed, to his own heart's solo on the Zuleika
+theme, and drinking rather more champagne than was good for him.
+Maybe, these youths sowed in themselves, on this night, the seeds
+of lifelong intemperance. We cannot tell. They did not live long
+enough for us to know.</p>
+
+<p>While the six dined, a seventh, invisible to them, leaned
+moodily against the mantel-piece, watching them. He was not of
+their time. His long brown hair was knotted in a black riband
+behind. He wore a pale brocaded coat and lace ruffles, silken
+stockings, a sword. Privy to their doom, he watched them. He was
+loth that his Junta must die. Yes, his. Could the diners have
+seen him, they would have known him by his resemblance to the
+mezzotint portrait that hung on the wall above him. They would
+have risen to their feet in presence of Humphrey Greddon, founder
+and first president of the club.</p>
+
+<p>His face was not so oval, nor were his eyes so big, nor his
+lips so full, nor his hands so delicate, as they appeared in the
+mezzotint. Yet (bating the conventions of eighteenth-century
+portraiture) the likeness was a good one. Humphrey Greddon was
+not less well-knit and graceful than the painter had made him,
+and, hard though the lines of the face were, there was about him
+a certain air of high romance that could not be explained away by
+the fact that he was of a period not our own. You could
+understand the great love that Nellie O'Mora had borne him.</p>
+
+<p>Under the mezzotint hung Hoppner's miniature of that lovely
+and ill- starred girl, with her soft dark eyes, and her curls all
+astray from beneath her little blue turban. And the Duke was
+telling Mr. Oover her story--how she had left her home for
+Humphrey Greddon when she was but sixteen, and he an
+undergraduate at Christ Church; and had lived for him in a
+cottage at Littlemore, whither he would ride, most days, to be
+with her; and how he tired of her, broke his oath that he would
+marry her, thereby broke her heart; and how she drowned herself
+in a mill-pond; and how Greddon was killed in Venice, two years
+later, duelling on the Riva Schiavoni with a Senator whose
+daughter he had seduced.</p>
+
+<p>And he, Greddon, was not listening very attentively to the
+tale. He had heard it told so often in this room, and he did not
+understand the sentiments of the modern world. Nellie had been a
+monstrous pretty creature. He had adored her, and had done with
+her. It was right that she should always be toasted after dinner
+by the Junta, as in the days when first he loved her--"Here's to
+Nellie O'Mora, the fairest witch that ever was or will be!" He
+would have resented the omission of that toast. But he was sick
+of the pitying, melting looks that were always cast towards her
+miniature. Nellie had been beautiful, but, by God! she was always
+a dunce and a simpleton. How could he have spent his life with
+her? She was a fool, by God! not to marry that fool Trailby, of
+Merton, whom he took to see her.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Oover's moral tone, and his sense of chivalry, were of the
+American kind: far higher than ours, even, and far better
+expressed. Whereas the English guests of the Junta, when they
+heard the tale of Nellie O'Mora, would merely murmur "Poor girl!"
+or "What a shame!" Mr. Oover said in a tone of quiet authority
+that compelled Greddon's ear "Duke, I hope I am not incognisant
+of the laws that govern the relations of guest and host. But,
+Duke, I aver deliberately that the founder of this fine old club;
+at which you are so splendidly entertaining me to-night, was an
+unmitigated scoundrel. I say he was not a white man."</p>
+
+<p>At the word "scoundrel," Humphrey Greddon had sprung forward,
+drawing his sword, and loudly, in a voice audible to himself
+alone, challenged the American to make good his words. Then, as
+this gentleman took no notice, with one clean straight thrust
+Greddon ran him through the heart, shouting "Die, you damned
+psalm-singer and traducer! And so die all rebels against King
+George!"* Withdrawing the blade, he wiped it daintily on his
+cambric handkerchief. There was no blood. Mr. Oover, with
+unpunctured shirt-front, was repeating "I say he was not a white
+man." And Greddon remembered himself--remembered he was only a
+ghost, impalpable, impotent, of no account. "But I shall meet you
+in Hell to-morrow," he hissed in Oover's face. And there he was
+wrong. It is quite certain that Oover went to Heaven.</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>* As Edward VII. was at this time on the throne, it must have
+been to George III. that Mr. Greddon was referring.</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>Unable to avenge himself, Greddon had looked to the Duke to
+act for him. When he saw that this young man did but smile at
+Oover and make a vague deprecatory gesture, he again, in his
+wrath, forgot his disabilities. Drawing himself to his full
+height, he took with great deliberation a pinch of snuff, and,
+bowing low to the Duke, said "I am vastly obleeged to your Grace
+for the fine high Courage you have exhibited in the behalf of
+your most Admiring, most Humble Servant." Then, having brushed
+away a speck of snuff from his jabot, he turned on his heel; and
+only in the doorway, where one of the club servants, carrying a
+decanter in each hand, walked straight through him, did he
+realise that he had not spoilt the Duke's evening. With a volley
+of the most appalling eighteenth-century oaths, he passed back
+into the nether world.</p>
+
+<p>To the Duke, Nellie O'Mora had never been a very vital figure.
+He had often repeated the legend of her. But, having never known
+what love was, he could not imagine her rapture or her anguish.
+Himself the quarry of all Mayfair's wise virgins, he had
+always--so far as he thought of the matter at all--suspected that
+Nellie's death was due to thwarted ambition. But to-night, while
+he told Oover about her, he could see into her soul. Nor did he
+pity her. She had loved. She had known the one thing worth living
+for--and dying for. She, as she went down to the mill-pond, had
+felt just that ecstasy of self-sacrifice which he himself had
+felt to-day and would feel to-morrow. And for a while, too--for a
+full year--she had known the joy of being loved, had been for
+Greddon "the fairest witch that ever was or will be." He could
+not agree with Oover's long disquisition on her sufferings. And,
+glancing at her well-remembered miniature, he wondered just what
+it was in her that had captivated Greddon. He was in that blest
+state when a man cannot believe the earth has been trodden by any
+really beautiful or desirable lady save the lady of his own
+heart.</p>
+
+<p>The moment had come for the removal of the table-cloth. The
+mahogany of the Junta was laid bare--a clear dark lake, anon to
+reflect in its still and ruddy depths the candelabras and the
+fruit-cradles, the slender glasses and the stout old decanters,
+the forfeit-box and the snuff-box, and other paraphernalia of the
+dignity of dessert. Lucidly, and unwaveringly inverted in the
+depths these good things stood; and, so soon as the wine had made
+its circuit, the Duke rose and with uplifted glass proposed the
+first of the two toasts traditional to the Junta. "Gentlemen, I
+give you Church and State."</p>
+
+<p>The toast having been honoured by all--and by none with a
+richer reverence than by Oover, despite his passionate mental
+reservation in favour of Pittsburg-Anabaptism and the Republican
+Ideal--the snuff-box was handed round, and fruit was eaten.</p>
+
+<p>Presently, when the wine had gone round again, the Duke rose
+and with uplifted glass said "Gentlemen, I give you--" and there
+halted. Silent, frowning, flushed, he stood for a few moments,
+and then, with a deliberate gesture, tilted his glass and let
+fall the wine to the carpet. "No," he said, looking round the
+table, "I cannot give you Nellie O'Mora."</p>
+
+<p>"Why not?" gasped Sir John Marraby.</p>
+
+<p>"You have a right to ask that," said the Duke, still standing.
+"I can only say that my conscience is stronger than my sense of
+what is due to the customs of the club. Nellie O'Mora," he said,
+passing his hand over his brow, "may have been in her day the
+fairest witch that ever was--so fair that our founder had good
+reason to suppose her the fairest witch that ever would be. But
+his prediction was a false one. So at least it seems to me. Of
+course I cannot both hold this view and remain President of this
+club. MacQuern--Marraby--which of you is Vice-President?"</p>
+
+<p>"He is," said Marraby.</p>
+
+<p>"Then, MacQuern, you are hereby President, vice myself
+resigned. Take the chair and propose the toast."</p>
+
+<p>"I would rather not," said The MacQuern after a pause.</p>
+
+<p>"Then, Marraby, YOU must."</p>
+
+<p>"Not I!" said Marraby.</p>
+
+<p>"Why is this?" asked the Duke, looking from one to the
+other.</p>
+
+<p>The MacQuern, with Scotch caution, was silent. But the
+impulsive Marraby--Madcap Marraby, as they called him in
+B.N.C.--said "It's because I won't lie!" and, leaping up, raised
+his glass aloft and cried "I give you Zuleika Dobson, the fairest
+witch that ever was or will be!"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Oover, Lord Sayes, Mr. Trent-Garby, sprang to their feet;
+The MacQuern rose to his. "Zuleika Dobson!" they cried, and
+drained their glasses.</p>
+
+<p>Then, when they had resumed their seats, came an awkward
+pause. The Duke, still erect beside the chair he had vacated,
+looked very grave and pale. Marraby had taken an outrageous
+liberty. But "a member of the Junta can do no wrong," and the
+liberty could not be resented. The Duke felt that the blame was
+on himself, who had elected Marraby to the club.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Oover, too, looked grave. All the antiquarian in him
+deplored the sudden rupture of a fine old Oxford tradition. All
+the chivalrous American in him resented the slight on that fair
+victim of the feudal system, Miss O'Mora. And, at the same time,
+all the Abimelech V. in him rejoiced at having honoured by word
+and act the one woman in the world.</p>
+
+<p>Gazing around at the flushed faces and heaving shirt-fronts of
+the diners, the Duke forgot Marraby's misdemeanour. What mattered
+far more to him was that here were five young men deeply under
+the spell of Zuleika. They must be saved, if possible. He knew
+how strong his influence was in the University. He knew also how
+strong was Zuleika's. He had not much hope of the issue. But his
+new-born sense of duty to his fellows spurred him on. "Is there,"
+he asked with a bitter smile, "any one of you who doesn't with
+his whole heart love Miss Dobson?"</p>
+
+<p>Nobody held up a hand.</p>
+
+<p>"As I feared," said the Duke, knowing not that if a hand had
+been held up he would have taken it as a personal insult. No man
+really in love can forgive another for not sharing his ardour.
+His jealousy for himself when his beloved prefers another man is
+hardly a stronger passion than his jealousy for her when she is
+not preferred to all other women.</p>
+
+<p>"You know her only by sight--by repute?" asked the Duke. They
+signified that this was so. "I wish you would introduce me to
+her," said Marraby.</p>
+
+<p>"You are all coming to the Judas concert tonight?" the Duke
+asked, ignoring Marraby. "You have all secured tickets?" They
+nodded. "To hear me play, or to see Miss Dobson?" There was a
+murmur of "Both-- both." "And you would all of you, like Marraby,
+wish to be presented to this lady?" Their eyes dilated. "That way
+happiness lies, think you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, happiness be hanged!" said Marraby.</p>
+
+<p>To the Duke this seemed a profoundly sane remark--an epitome
+of his own sentiments. But what was right for himself was not
+right for all. He believed in convention as the best way for
+average mankind. And so, slowly, calmly, he told to his
+fellow-diners just what he had told a few hours earlier to those
+two young men in Salt Cellar. Not knowing that his words had
+already been spread throughout Oxford, he was rather surprised
+that they seemed to make no sensation. Quite flat, too, fell his
+appeal that the syren be shunned by all.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Oover, during his year of residence, had been sorely tried
+by the quaint old English custom of not making public speeches
+after private dinners. It was with a deep sigh of satisfaction
+that he now rose to his feet.</p>
+
+<p>"Duke," he said in a low voice, which yet penetrated to every
+corner of the room, "I guess I am voicing these gentlemen when I
+say that your words show up your good heart, all the time. Your
+mentality, too, is bully, as we all predicate. One may say
+without exaggeration that your scholarly and social attainments
+are a by-word throughout the solar system, and be-yond. We
+rightly venerate you as our boss. Sir, we worship the ground you
+walk on. But we owe a duty to our own free and independent
+manhood. Sir, we worship the ground Miss Z. Dobson treads on. We
+have pegged out a claim right there. And from that location we
+aren't to be budged--not for bob-nuts. We asseverate we
+squat--where--we--squat, come--what--will. You say we have no
+chance to win Miss Z. Dobson. That--we--know. We aren't worthy.
+We lie prone. Let her walk over us. You say her heart is cold. We
+don't pro-fess we can take the chill off. But, Sir, we can't be
+diverted out of loving her--not even by you, Sir. No, Sir! We
+love her, and--shall, and-- will, Sir, with--our--latest
+breath."</p>
+
+<p>This peroration evoked loud applause. "I love her, and shall,
+and will," shouted each man. And again they honoured in wine her
+image. Sir John Marraby uttered a cry familiar in the
+hunting-field. The MacQuern contributed a few bars of a
+sentimental ballad in the dialect of his country. "Hurrah,
+hurrah!" shouted Mr. Trent-Garby. Lord Sayes hummed the latest
+waltz, waving his arms to its rhythm, while the wine he had just
+spilt on his shirt-front trickled unheeded to his waistcoat. Mr.
+Oover gave the Yale cheer.</p>
+
+<p>The genial din was wafted down through the open window to the
+passers- by. The wine-merchant across the way heard it, and
+smiled pensively. "Youth, youth!" he murmured.</p>
+
+<p>The genial din grew louder.</p>
+
+<p>At any other time, the Duke would have been jarred by the
+disgrace to the Junta. But now, as he stood with bent head,
+covering his face with his hands, he thought only of the need to
+rid these young men, here and now, of the influence that had
+befallen them. To-morrow his tragic example might be too late,
+the mischief have sunk too deep, the agony be life-long. His good
+breeding forbade him to cast over a dinner- table the shadow of
+his death. His conscience insisted that he must. He uncovered his
+face, and held up one hand for silence.</p>
+
+<p>"We are all of us," he said, "old enough to remember vividly
+the demonstrations made in the streets of London when war was
+declared between us and the Transvaal Republic. You, Mr. Oover,
+doubtless heard in America the echoes of those ebullitions. The
+general idea was that the war was going to be a very brief and
+simple affair--what was called 'a walk-over.' To me, though I was
+only a small boy, it seemed that all this delirious pride in the
+prospect of crushing a trumpery foe argued a defect in our sense
+of proportion. Still, I was able to understand the demonstrators'
+point of view. To 'the giddy vulgar' any sort of victory is
+pleasant. But defeat? If, when that war was declared, every one
+had been sure that not only should we fail to conquer the
+Transvaal, but that IT would conquer US--that not only would it
+make good its freedom and independence, but that we should
+forfeit ours--how would the cits have felt then? Would they not
+have pulled long faces, spoken in whispers, wept? You must
+forgive me for saying that the noise you have just made around
+this table was very like to the noise made on the verge of the
+Boer War. And your procedure seems to me as unaccountable as
+would have seemed the antics of those mobs if England had been
+plainly doomed to disaster and to vassalage. My guest here
+to-night, in the course of his very eloquent and racy speech,
+spoke of the need that he and you should preserve your 'free and
+independent manhood.' That seemed to me an irreproachable ideal.
+But I confess I was somewhat taken aback by my friend's scheme
+for realising it. He declared his intention of lying prone and
+letting Miss Dobson 'walk over' him; and he advised you to follow
+his example; and to this counsel you gave evident approval.
+Gentlemen, suppose that on the verge of the aforesaid war, some
+orator had said to the British people 'It is going to be a
+walk-over for our enemy in the field. Mr. Kruger holds us in the
+hollow of his hand. In subjection to him we shall find our
+long-lost freedom and independence'--what would have been
+Britannia's answer? What, on reflection, is yours to Mr. Oover?
+What are Mr. Oover's own second thoughts?" The Duke paused, with
+a smile to his guest.</p>
+
+<p>"Go right ahead, Duke," said Mr. Oover. "I'll re-ply when my
+turn comes."</p>
+
+<p>"And not utterly demolish me, I hope," said the Duke. His was
+the Oxford manner. "Gentlemen," he continued, "is it possible
+that Britannia would have thrown her helmet in the air, shrieking
+'Slavery for ever'? You, gentlemen, seem to think slavery a
+pleasant and an honourable state. You have less experience of it
+than I. I have been enslaved to Miss Dobson since yesterday
+evening; you, only since this afternoon; I, at close quarters;
+you, at a respectful distance. Your fetters have not galled you
+yet. MY wrists, MY ankles, are excoriated. The iron has entered
+into my soul. I droop. I stumble. Blood flows from me. I quiver
+and curse. I writhe. The sun mocks me. The moon titters in my
+face. I can stand it no longer. I will no more of it. Tomorrow I
+die."</p>
+
+<p>The flushed faces of the diners grew gradually pale. Their
+eyes lost lustre. Their tongues clove to the roofs of their
+mouths.</p>
+
+<p>At length, almost inaudibly, The MacQuern asked "Do you mean
+you are going to commit suicide?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said the Duke, "if you choose to put it in that way.
+Yes. And it is only by a chance that I did not commit suicide
+this afternoon."</p>
+
+<p>"You--don't--say," gasped Mr. Oover.</p>
+
+<p>"I do indeed," said the Duke. "And I ask you all to weigh well
+my message."</p>
+
+<p>"But--but does Miss Dobson know?" asked Sir John.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes," was the reply. "Indeed, it was she who persuaded me
+not to die till to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>"But--but," faltered Lord Sayes, "I saw her saying good-bye to
+you in Judas Street. And--and she looked quite--as if nothing had
+happened."</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing HAD happened," said the Duke. "And she was very much
+pleased to have me still with her. But she isn't so cruel as to
+hinder me from dying for her to-morrow. I don't think she exactly
+fixed the hour. It shall be just after the Eights have been
+rowed. An earlier death would mark in me a lack of courtesy to
+that contest . . . It seems strange to you that I should do this
+thing? Take warning by me. Muster all your will-power, and forget
+Miss Dobson. Tear up your tickets for the concert. Stay here and
+play cards. Play high. Or rather, go back to your various
+Colleges, and speed the news I have told you. Put all Oxford on
+its guard against this woman who can love no lover. Let all
+Oxford know that I, Dorset, who had so much reason to love
+life--I, the nonpareil--am going to die for the love I bear this
+woman. And let no man think I go unwilling. I am no lamb led to
+the slaughter. I am priest as well as victim. I offer myself up
+with a pious joy. But enough of this cold Hebraism! It is
+ill-attuned to my soul's mood. Self-sacrifice--bah! Regard me as
+a voluptuary. I am that. All my baffled ardour speeds me to the
+bosom of Death. She is gentle and wanton. She knows I could never
+have loved her for her own sake. She has no illusions about me.
+She knows well I come to her because not otherwise may I quench
+my passion."</p>
+
+<p>There was a long silence. The Duke, looking around at the bent
+heads and drawn mouths of his auditors, saw that his words had
+gone home. It was Marraby who revealed how powerfully home they
+had gone.</p>
+
+<p>"Dorset," he said huskily, "I shall die too."</p>
+
+<p>The Duke flung up his hands, staring wildly.</p>
+
+<p>"I stand in with that," said Mr. Oover.</p>
+
+<p>"So do I!" said Lord Sayes. "And I!" said Mr. Trent-Garby;
+"And I!" The MacQuern.</p>
+
+<p>The Duke found voice. "Are you mad?" he asked, clutching at
+his throat. "Are you all mad?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, Duke," said Mr. Oover. "Or, if we are, you have no right
+to be at large. You have shown us the way. We--take it."</p>
+
+<p>"Just so," said The MacQuern, stolidly.</p>
+
+<p>"Listen, you fools," cried the Duke. But through the open
+window came the vibrant stroke of some clock. He wheeled round,
+plucked out his watch--nine!--the concert!--his promise not to be
+late!--Zuleika!</p>
+
+<p>All other thoughts vanished. In an instant he dodged beneath
+the sash of the window. From the flower-box he sprang to the road
+beneath. (The facade of the house is called, to this day,
+Dorset's Leap.) Alighting with the legerity of a cat, he swerved
+leftward in the recoil, and was off, like a streak of
+mulberry-coloured lightning, down the High.</p>
+
+<p>The other men had rushed to the window, fearing the worst.
+"No," cried Oover. "That's all right. Saves time!" and he raised
+himself on to the window-box. It splintered under his weight. He
+leapt heavily but well, followed by some uprooted geraniums.
+Squaring his shoulders, he threw back his head, and doubled down
+the slope.</p>
+
+<p>There was a violent jostle between the remaining men. The
+MacQuern cannily got out of it, and rushed downstairs. He emerged
+at the front- door just after Marraby touched ground. The
+Baronet's left ankle had twisted under him. His face was drawn
+with pain as he hopped down the High on his right foot, fingering
+his ticket for the concert. Next leapt Lord Sayes. And last of
+all leapt Mr. Trent-Garby, who, catching his foot in the ruined
+flower-box, fell headlong, and was, I regret to say, killed. Lord
+Sayes passed Sir John in a few paces. The MacQuern overtook Mr.
+Oover at St. Mary's and outstripped him in Radcliffe Square. The
+Duke came in an easy first.</p>
+
+<p>Youth, youth!</p>
+
+<p>�</p>
+
+<h3>IX</h3>
+
+<p>Across the Front Quadrangle, heedless of the great crowd to
+right and left, Dorset rushed. Up the stone steps to the Hall he
+bounded, and only on the Hall's threshold was he brought to a
+pause. The doorway was blocked by the backs of youths who had by
+hook and crook secured standing-room. The whole scene was
+surprisingly unlike that of the average College concert.</p>
+
+<p>"Let me pass," said the Duke, rather breathlessly. "Thank you.
+Make way please. Thanks." And with quick-pulsing heart he made
+his way down the aisle to the front row. There awaited him a
+surprise that was like a douche of cold water full in his face.
+Zuleika was not there! It had never occurred to him that she
+herself might not be punctual.</p>
+
+<p>The Warden was there, reading his programme with an air of
+great solemnity. "Where," asked the Duke, "is your
+grand-daughter?" His tone was as of a man saying "If she is dead,
+don't break it gently to me."</p>
+
+<p>"My grand-daughter?" said the Warden. "Ah, Duke, good
+evening."</p>
+
+<p>"She's not ill?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh no, I think not. She said something about changing the
+dress she wore at dinner. She will come." And the Warden thanked
+his young friend for the great kindness he had shown to Zuleika.
+He hoped the Duke had not let her worry him with her artless
+prattle. "She seems to be a good, amiable girl," he added, in his
+detached way.</p>
+
+<p>Sitting beside him, the Duke looked curiously at the venerable
+profile, as at a mummy's. To think that this had once been a man!
+To think that his blood flowed in the veins of Zuleika! Hitherto
+the Duke had seen nothing grotesque in him--had regarded him
+always as a dignified specimen of priest and scholar. Such a life
+as the Warden's, year following year in ornamental seclusion from
+the follies and fusses of the world, had to the Duke seemed
+rather admirable and enviable. Often he himself had (for a minute
+or so) meditated taking a fellowship at All Souls and spending
+here in Oxford the greater part of his life. He had never been
+young, and it never had occurred to him that the Warden had been
+young once. To-night he saw the old man in a new light--saw that
+he was mad. Here was a man who--for had he not married and
+begotten a child?--must have known, in some degree, the emotion
+of love. How, after that, could he have gone on thus, year by
+year, rusting among his books, asking no favour of life, waiting
+for death without a sign of impatience? Why had he not killed
+himself long ago? Why cumbered he the earth?</p>
+
+<p>On the dais an undergraduate was singing a song entitled "She
+Loves Not Me." Such plaints are apt to leave us unharrowed.
+Across the footlights of an opera-house, the despair of some
+Italian tenor in red tights and a yellow wig may be convincing
+enough. Not so, at a concert, the despair of a shy British
+amateur in evening dress. The undergraduate on the dais, fumbling
+with his sheet of music while he predicted that only when he were
+"laid within the church-yard cold and grey" would his lady begin
+to pity him, seemed to the Duke rather ridiculous; but not half
+so ridiculous as the Warden. This fictitious love-affair was less
+nugatory than the actual humdrum for which Dr. Dobson had sold
+his soul to the devil. Also, little as one might suspect it, the
+warbler was perhaps expressing a genuine sentiment. Zuleika
+herself, belike, was in his thoughts.</p>
+
+<p>As he began the second stanza, predicting that when his lady
+died too the angels of heaven would bear her straight to him, the
+audience heard a loud murmur, or subdued roar, outside the Hall.
+And after a few bars the warbler suddenly ceased, staring
+straight in front of him as though he saw a vision.
+Automatically, all heads veered in the direction of his gaze.
+From the entrance, slowly along the aisle, came Zuleika,
+brilliant in black.</p>
+
+<p>To the Duke, who had rapturously risen, she nodded and smiled
+as she swerved down on the chair beside him. She looked to him
+somehow different. He had quite forgiven her for being late: her
+mere presence was a perfect excuse. And the very change in her,
+though he could not define it, was somehow pleasing to him. He
+was about to question her, but she shook her head and held up to
+her lips a black-gloved forefinger, enjoining silence for the
+singer, who, with dogged British pluck, had harked back to the
+beginning of the second stanza. When his task was done and he
+shuffled down from the dais, he received a great ovation.
+Zuleika, in the way peculiar to persons who are in the habit of
+appearing before the public, held her hands well above the level
+of her brow, and clapped them with a vigour demonstrative not
+less of her presence than of her delight.</p>
+
+<p>"And now," she asked, turning to the Duke, "do you see? do you
+see?"</p>
+
+<p>"Something, yes. But what?"</p>
+
+<p>"Isn't it plain?" Lightly she touched the lobe of her left
+ear. "Aren't you flattered?"</p>
+
+<p>He knew now what made the difference. It was that her little
+face was flanked by two black pearls.</p>
+
+<p>"Think," said she, "how deeply I must have been brooding over
+you since we parted!"</p>
+
+<p>"Is this really," he asked, pointing to the left ear-ring,
+"the pearl you wore to-day?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. Isn't it strange? A man ought to be pleased when a woman
+goes quite unconsciously into mourning for him--goes just because
+she really does mourn him."</p>
+
+<p>"I am more than pleased. I am touched. When did the change
+come?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know. I only noticed it after dinner, when I saw
+myself in the mirror. All through dinner I had been thinking of
+you and of-- well, of to-morrow. And this dear sensitive pink
+pearl had again expressed my soul. And there was I, in a yellow
+gown with green embroideries, gay as a jacamar, jarring hideously
+on myself. I covered my eyes and rushed upstairs, rang the bell
+and tore my things off. My maid was very cross."</p>
+
+<p>Cross! The Duke was shot through with envy of one who was in a
+position to be unkind to Zuleika. "Happy maid!" he murmured.
+Zuleika replied that he was stealing her thunder: hadn't she
+envied the girl at his lodgings? "But I," she said, "wanted only
+to serve you in meekness. The idea of ever being pert to you
+didn't enter into my head. You show a side of your character as
+unpleasing as it was unforeseen."</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps then," said the Duke, "it is as well that I am going
+to die." She acknowledged his rebuke with a pretty gesture of
+penitence. "You may have been faultless in love," he added; "but
+you would not have laid down your life for me."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," she answered, "wouldn't I though? You don't know me.
+That is just the sort of thing I should have loved to do. I am
+much more romantic than you are, really. I wonder," she said,
+glancing at his breast, "if YOUR pink pearl would have turned
+black? And I wonder if YOU would have taken the trouble to change
+that extraordinary coat you are wearing?"</p>
+
+<p>In sooth, no costume could have been more beautifully
+Cimmerian than Zuleika's. And yet, thought the Duke, watching her
+as the concert proceeded, the effect of her was not lugubrious.
+Her darkness shone. The black satin gown she wore was a stream of
+shifting high-lights. Big black diamonds were around her throat
+and wrists, and tiny black diamonds starred the fan she wielded.
+In her hair gleamed a great raven's wing. And brighter, brighter
+than all these were her eyes. Assuredly no, there was nothing
+morbid about her. Would one even (wondered the Duke, for a
+disloyal instant) go so far as to say she was heartless? Ah no,
+she was merely strong. She was one who could tread the tragic
+plane without stumbling, and be resilient in the valley of the
+shadow. What she had just said was no more than the truth: she
+would have loved to die for him, had he not forfeited her heart.
+She would have asked no tears. That she had none to shed for him
+now, that she did but share his exhilaration, was the measure of
+her worthiness to have the homage of his self-slaughter.</p>
+
+<p>"By the way," she whispered, "I want to ask one little favour
+of you. Will you, please, at the last moment to-morrow, call out
+my name in a loud voice, so that every one around can hear?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course I will."</p>
+
+<p>"So that no one shall ever be able to say it wasn't for me
+that you died, you know."</p>
+
+<p>"May I use simply your Christian name?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I really don't see why you shouldn't--at such a
+moment."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you." His face glowed.</p>
+
+<p>Thus did they commune, these two, radiant without and within.
+And behind them, throughout the Hall, the undergraduates craned
+their necks for a glimpse. The Duke's piano solo, which was the
+last item in the first half of the programme, was eagerly
+awaited. Already, whispered first from the lips of Oover and the
+others who had come on from the Junta, the news of his resolve
+had gone from ear to ear among the men. He, for his part, had
+forgotten the scene at the Junta, the baleful effect of his
+example. For him the Hall was a cave of solitude --no one there
+but Zuleika and himself. Yet almost, like the late Mr. John
+Bright, he heard in the air the beating of the wings of the Angel
+of Death. Not awful wings; little wings that sprouted from the
+shoulders of a rosy and blindfold child. Love and Death--for him
+they were exquisitely one. And it seemed to him, when his turn
+came to play, that he floated, rather than walked, to the
+dais.</p>
+
+<p>He had not considered what he would play tonight. Nor, maybe,
+was he conscious now of choosing. His fingers caressed the
+keyboard vaguely; and anon this ivory had voice and language; and
+for its master, and for some of his hearers, arose a vision. And
+it was as though in delicate procession, very slowly, listless
+with weeping, certain figures passed by, hooded, and drooping
+forasmuch as by the loss of him whom they were following to his
+grave their own hold on life had been loosened. He had been so
+beautiful and young. Lo, he was but a burden to be carried hence,
+dust to be hidden out of sight. Very slowly, very wretchedly they
+went by. But, as they went, another feeling, faint at first, an
+all but imperceptible current, seemed to flow through the
+procession; and now one, now another of the mourners would look
+wanly up, with cast-back hood, as though listening; and anon all
+were listening on their way, first in wonder, then in rapture;
+for the soul of their friend was singing to them: they heard his
+voice, but clearer and more blithe than they had ever known it--a
+voice etherealised by a triumph of joy that was not yet for them
+to share. But presently the voice receded, its echoes dying away
+into the sphere whence it came. It ceased; and the mourners were
+left alone again with their sorrow, and passed on all unsolaced,
+and drooping, weeping.</p>
+
+<p>Soon after the Duke had begun to play, an invisible figure
+came and stood by and listened; a frail man, dressed in the
+fashion of 1840; the shade of none other than Frederic Chopin.
+Behind whom, a moment later, came a woman of somewhat masculine
+aspect and dominant demeanour, mounting guard over him, and, as
+it were, ready to catch him if he fell. He bowed his head lower
+and lower, he looked up with an ecstasy more and more intense,
+according to the procedure of his Marche Funebre. And among the
+audience, too, there was a bowing and uplifting of heads, just as
+among the figures of the mourners evoked. Yet the head of the
+player himself was all the while erect, and his face glad and
+serene. Nobly sensitive as was his playing of the mournful
+passages, he smiled brilliantly through them.</p>
+
+<p>And Zuleika returned his gaze with a smile not less gay. She
+was not sure what he was playing. But she assumed that it was for
+her, and that the music had some reference to his impending
+death. She was one of the people who say "I don't know anything
+about music really, but I know what I like." And she liked this;
+and she beat time to it with her fan. She thought her Duke looked
+very handsome. She was proud of him. Strange that this time
+yesterday she had been wildly in love with him! Strange, too,
+that this time to-morrow he would be dead! She was immensely glad
+she had saved him this afternoon. To-morrow! There came back to
+her what he had told her about the omen at Tankerton, that
+stately home: "On the eve of the death of a Duke of Dorset, two
+black owls come always and perch on the battlements. They remain
+there through the night, hooting. At dawn they fly away, none
+knows whither." Perhaps, thought she, at this very moment these
+two birds were on the battlements.</p>
+
+<p>The music ceased. In the hush that followed it, her applause
+rang sharp and notable. Not so Chopin's. Of him and his intense
+excitement none but his companion was aware. "Plus fin que
+Pachmann!" he reiterated, waving his arms wildly, and
+dancing.</p>
+
+<p>"Tu auras une migraine affreuse. Rentrons, petit coeur!" said
+George Sand, gently but firmly.</p>
+
+<p>"Laisse-moi le saluer," cried the composer, struggling in her
+grasp.</p>
+
+<p>"Demain soir, oui. Il sera parmi nous," said the novelist, as
+she hurried him away. "Moi aussi," she added to herself, "je me
+promets un beau plaisir en faisant la connaissance de ce jeune
+homme."</p>
+
+<p>Zuleika was the first to rise as "ce jeune homme" came down
+from the dais. Now was the interval between the two parts of the
+programme. There was a general creaking and scraping of
+pushed-back chairs as the audience rose and went forth into the
+night. The noise aroused from sleep the good Warden, who, having
+peered at his programme, complimented the Duke with old-world
+courtesy and went to sleep again. Zuleika, thrusting her fan
+under one arm, shook the player by both hands. Also, she told him
+that she knew nothing about music really, but that she knew what
+she liked. As she passed with him up the aisle, she said this
+again. People who say it are never tired of saying it.</p>
+
+<p>Outside, the crowd was greater than ever. All the
+undergraduates from all the Colleges seemed now to be
+concentrated in the great Front Quadrangle of Judas. Even in the
+glow of the Japanese lanterns that hung around in honour of the
+concert, the faces of the lads looked a little pale. For it was
+known by all now that the Duke was to die. Even while the concert
+was in progress, the news had spread out from the Hall, through
+the thronged doorway, down the thronged steps, to the confines of
+the crowd. Nor had Oover and the other men from the Junta made
+any secret of their own determination. And now, as the rest saw
+Zuleika yet again at close quarters, and verified their
+remembrance of her, the half-formed desire in them to die too was
+hardened to a vow.</p>
+
+<p>You cannot make a man by standing a sheep on its hind-legs.
+But by standing a flock of sheep in that position you can make a
+crowd of men. If man were not a gregarious animal, the world
+might have achieved, by this time, some real progress towards
+civilisation. Segregate him, and he is no fool. But let him loose
+among his fellows, and he is lost--he becomes just an unit in
+unreason. If any one of the undergraduates had met Miss Dobson in
+the desert of Sahara, he would have fallen in love with her; but
+not one in a thousand of them would have wished to die because
+she did not love him. The Duke's was a peculiar case. For him to
+fall in love was itself a violent peripety, bound to produce a
+violent upheaval; and such was his pride that for his love to be
+unrequited would naturally enamour him of death. These other,
+these quite ordinary, young men were the victims less of Zuleika
+than of the Duke's example, and of one another. A crowd,
+proportionately to its size, magnifies all that in its units
+pertains to the emotions, and diminishes all that in them
+pertains to thought. It was because these undergraduates were a
+crowd that their passion for Zuleika was so intense; and it was
+because they were a crowd that they followed so blindly the lead
+given to them. To die for Miss Dobson was "the thing to do." The
+Duke was going to do it. The Junta was going to do it. It is a
+hateful fact, but we must face the fact, that snobbishness was
+one of the springs to the tragedy here chronicled.</p>
+
+<p>We may set to this crowd's credit that it refrained now from
+following Zuleika. Not one of the ladies present was deserted by
+her escort. All the men recognised the Duke's right to be alone
+with Zuleika now. We may set also to their credit that they
+carefully guarded the ladies from all knowledge of what was
+afoot.</p>
+
+<p>Side by side, the great lover and his beloved wandered away,
+beyond the light of the Japanese lanterns, and came to Salt
+Cellar.</p>
+
+<p>The moon, like a gardenia in the night's button-hole--but no!
+why should a writer never be able to mention the moon without
+likening her to something else--usually something to which she
+bears not the faintest resemblance? . . . The moon, looking like
+nothing whatsoever but herself, was engaged in her old and futile
+endeavour to mark the hours correctly on the sun-dial at the
+centre of the lawn. Never, except once, late one night in the
+eighteenth century, when the toper who was Sub-Warden had spent
+an hour in trying to set his watch here, had she received the
+slightest encouragement. Still she wanly persisted. And this was
+the more absurd in her because Salt Cellar offered very good
+scope for those legitimate effects of hers which we one and all
+admire. Was it nothing to her to have cut those black shadows
+across the cloisters? Was it nothing to her that she so magically
+mingled her rays with the candle-light shed forth from Zuleika's
+bedroom? Nothing, that she had cleansed the lawn of all its
+colour, and made of it a platform of silver-grey, fit for fairies
+to dance on?</p>
+
+<p>If Zuleika, as she paced the gravel path, had seen how
+transfigured-- how nobly like the Tragic Muse--she was just now,
+she could not have gone on bothering the Duke for a keepsake of
+the tragedy that was to be.</p>
+
+<p>She was still set on having his two studs. He was still firm
+in his refusal to misappropriate those heirlooms. In vain she
+pointed out to him that the pearls he meant, the white ones, no
+longer existed; that the pearls he was wearing were no more
+"entailed" than if he had got them yesterday. "And you actually
+DID get them yesterday," she said. "And from me. And I want them
+back."</p>
+
+<p>"You are ingenious," he admitted. "I, in my simple way, am but
+head of the Tanville-Tankerton family. Had you accepted my offer
+of marriage, you would have had the right to wear these two
+pearls during your life-time. I am very happy to die for you. But
+tamper with the property of my successor I cannot and will not. I
+am sorry," he added.</p>
+
+<p>"Sorry!" echoed Zuleika. "Yes, and you were 'sorry' you
+couldn't dine with me to-night. But any little niggling scruple
+is more to you than I am. What old maids men are!" And viciously
+with her fan she struck one of the cloister pillars.</p>
+
+<p>Her outburst was lost on the Duke. At her taunt about his not
+dining with her, he had stood still, clapping one hand to his
+brow. The events of the early evening swept back to him--his
+speech, its unforeseen and horrible reception. He saw again the
+preternaturally solemn face of Oover, and the flushed faces of
+the rest. He had thought, as he pointed down to the abyss over
+which he stood, these fellows would recoil, and pull themselves
+together. They had recoiled, and pulled themselves together, only
+in the manner of athletes about to spring. He was responsible for
+them. His own life was his to lose: others he must not squander.
+Besides, he had reckoned to die alone, unique; aloft and apart .
+. . "There is something--something I had forgotten," he said to
+Zuleika, "something that will be a great shock to you"; and he
+gave her an outline of what had passed at the Junta.</p>
+
+<p>"And you are sure they really MEANT it?" she asked in a voice
+that trembled.</p>
+
+<p>"I fear so. But they were over-excited. They will recant their
+folly. I shall force them to."</p>
+
+<p>"They are not children. You yourself have just been calling
+them 'men.' Why should they obey you?"</p>
+
+<p>She turned at sound of a footstep, and saw a young man
+approaching. He wore a coat like the Duke's, and in his hand he
+dangled a handkerchief. He bowed awkwardly, and, holding out the
+handkerchief, said to her "I beg your pardon, but I think you
+dropped this. I have just picked it up."</p>
+
+<p>Zuleika looked at the handkerchief, which was obviously a
+man's, and smilingly shook her head.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think you know The MacQuern," said the Duke, with
+sulky grace. "This," he said to the intruder, "is Miss
+Dobson."</p>
+
+<p>"And is it really true," asked Zuleika, retaining The
+MacQuern's hand, "that you want to die for me?"</p>
+
+<p>Well, the Scots are a self-seeking and a resolute, but a shy,
+race; swift to act, when swiftness is needed, but seldom knowing
+quite what to say. The MacQuern, with native reluctance to give
+something for nothing, had determined to have the pleasure of
+knowing the young lady for whom he was to lay down his life; and
+this purpose he had, by the simple stratagem of his own
+handkerchief, achieved. Nevertheless, in answer to Zuleika's
+question, and with the pressure of her hand to inspire him, the
+only word that rose to his lips was "Ay" (which may be roughly
+translated as "Yes").</p>
+
+<p>"You will do nothing of the sort," interposed the Duke.</p>
+
+<p>"There," said Zuleika, still retaining The MacQuern's hand,
+"you see, it is forbidden. You must not defy our dear little
+Duke. He is not used to it. It is not done."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know," said The MacQuern, with a stony glance at the
+Duke, "that he has anything to do with the matter."</p>
+
+<p>"He is older and wiser than you. More a man of the world.
+Regard him as your tutor."</p>
+
+<p>"Do YOU want me not to die for you?" asked the young man.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, _I_ should not dare to impose my wishes on you," said
+she, dropping his hand. "Even," she added, "if I knew what my
+wishes were. And I don't. I know only that I think it is very,
+very beautiful of you to think of dying for me."</p>
+
+<p>"Then that settles it," said The MacQuern.</p>
+
+<p>"No, no! You must not let yourself be influenced by ME.
+Besides, I am not in a mood to influence anybody. I am
+overwhelmed. Tell me," she said, heedless of the Duke, who stood
+tapping his heel on the ground, with every manifestation of
+disapproval and impatience, "tell me, is it true that some of the
+other men love me too, and--feel as you do?"</p>
+
+<p>The MacQuern said cautiously that he could answer for no one
+but himself. "But," he allowed, "I saw a good many men whom I
+know, outside the Hall here, just now, and they seemed to have
+made up their minds."</p>
+
+<p>"To die for me? To-morrow?"</p>
+
+<p>"To-morrow. After the Eights, I suppose; at the same time as
+the Duke. It wouldn't do to leave the races undecided."</p>
+
+<p>"Of COURSE not. But the poor dears! It is too touching! I have
+done nothing, nothing to deserve it."</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing whatsoever," said the Duke drily.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh HE," said Zuleika, "thinks me an unredeemed brute; just
+because I don't love him. YOU, dear Mr. MacQuern--does one call
+you 'Mr.'? 'The' would sound so odd in the vocative. And I can't
+very well call you 'MacQuern'--YOU don't think me unkind, do you?
+I simply can't bear to think of all these young lives cut short
+without my having done a thing to brighten them. What can I
+do?--what can I do to show my gratitude?"</p>
+
+<p>An idea struck her. She looked up to the lit window of her
+room. "Melisande!" she called.</p>
+
+<p>A figure appeared at the window. "Mademoiselle desire?"</p>
+
+<p>"My tricks, Melisande! Bring down the box, quick!" She turned
+excitedly to the two young men. "It is all I can do in return,
+you see. If I could dance for them, I would. If I could sing, I
+would sing to them. I do what I can. You," she said to the Duke,
+"must go on to the platform and announce it."</p>
+
+<p>"Announce what?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, that I am going to do my tricks! All you need say is
+'Ladies and gentlemen, I have the pleasure to--' What is the
+matter now?"</p>
+
+<p>"You make me feel slightly unwell," said the Duke.</p>
+
+<p>"And YOU are the most d-dis-disobliging and the unkindest and
+the b-beastliest person I ever met," Zuleika sobbed at him
+through her hands. The MacQuern glared reproaches at him. So did
+Melisande, who had just appeared through the postern, holding in
+her arms the great casket of malachite. A painful scene; and the
+Duke gave in. He said he would do anything--anything. Peace was
+restored.</p>
+
+<p>The MacQuern had relieved Melisande of her burden; and to him
+was the privilege of bearing it, in procession with his adored
+and her quelled mentor, towards the Hall.</p>
+
+<p>Zuleika babbled like a child going to a juvenile party. This
+was the great night, as yet, in her life. Illustrious enough
+already it had seemed to her, as eve of that ultimate flattery
+vowed her by the Duke. So fine a thing had his doom seemed to
+her--his doom alone--that it had sufficed to flood her pink pearl
+with the right hue. And now not on him alone need she ponder. Now
+he was but the centre of a group--a group that might grow and
+grow--a group that might with a little encouragement be a
+multitude . . . With such hopes dimly whirling in the recesses of
+her soul, her beautiful red lips babbled.</p>
+
+<p>�</p>
+
+<h3>X</h3>
+
+<p>Sounds of a violin, drifting out through the open windows of
+the Hall, suggested that the second part of the concert had
+begun. All the undergraduates, however, except the few who
+figured in the programme, had waited outside till their mistress
+should re-appear. The sisters and cousins of the Judas men had
+been escorted back to their places and hurriedly left there.</p>
+
+<p>It was a hushed, tense crowd.</p>
+
+<p>"The poor darlings!" murmured Zuleika, pausing to survey them.
+"And oh," she exclaimed, "there won't be room for all of them in
+there!"</p>
+
+<p>"You might give an 'overflow' performance out here
+afterwards," suggested the Duke, grimly.</p>
+
+<p>This idea flashed on her a better. Why not give her
+performance here and now?--now, so eager was she for contact, as
+it were, with this crowd; here, by moonlight, in the pretty glow
+of these paper lanterns. Yes, she said, let it be here and now;
+and she bade the Duke make the announcement.</p>
+
+<p>"What shall I say?" he asked. "'Gentlemen, I have the pleasure
+to announce that Miss Zuleika Dobson, the world-renowned
+She-Wizard, will now oblige'? Or shall I call them 'Gents,' tout
+court?"</p>
+
+<p>She could afford to laugh at his ill-humour. She had his
+promise of obedience. She told him to say something graceful and
+simple.</p>
+
+<p>The noise of the violin had ceased. There was not a breath of
+wind. The crowd in the quadrangle was as still and as silent as
+the night itself. Nowhere a tremour. And it was borne in on
+Zuleika that this crowd had one mind as well as one heart--a
+common resolve, calm and clear, as well as a common passion. No
+need for her to strengthen the spell now. No waverers here. And
+thus it came true that gratitude was the sole motive for her
+display.</p>
+
+<p>She stood with eyes downcast and hands folded behind her,
+moonlit in the glow of lanterns, modest to the point of pathos,
+while the Duke gracefully and simply introduced her to the
+multitude. He was, he said, empowered by the lady who stood
+beside him to say that she would be pleased to give them an
+exhibition of her skill in the art to which she had devoted her
+life--an art which, more potently perhaps than any other, touched
+in mankind the sense of mystery and stirred the faculty of
+wonder; the most truly romantic of all the arts: he referred to
+the art of conjuring. It was not too much to say that by her
+mastery of this art, in which hitherto, it must be confessed,
+women had made no very great mark, Miss Zuleika Dobson (for such
+was the name of the lady who stood beside him) had earned the
+esteem of the whole civilised world. And here in Oxford, and in
+this College especially, she had a peculiar claim to--might he
+say?--their affectionate regard, inasmuch as she was the
+grand-daughter of their venerable and venerated Warden.</p>
+
+<p>As the Duke ceased, there came from his hearers a sound like
+the rustling of leaves. In return for it, Zuleika performed that
+graceful act of subsidence to the verge of collapse which is
+usually kept for the delectation of some royal person. And
+indeed, in the presence of this doomed congress, she did
+experience humility; for she was not altogether without
+imagination. But, as she arose from her "bob," she was her own
+bold self again, bright mistress of the situation.</p>
+
+<p>It was impossible for her to give her entertainment in full.
+Some of her tricks (notably the Secret Aquarium, and the Blazing
+Ball of Worsted) needed special preparation, and a table fitted
+with a "servante" or secret tray. The table for to-night's
+performance was an ordinary one, brought out from the porter's
+lodge. The MacQuern deposited on it the great casket. Zuleika,
+retaining him as her assistant, picked nimbly out from their
+places and put in array the curious appurtenances of her art--the
+Magic Canister, the Demon Egg- Cup, and the sundry other vessels
+which, lost property of young Edward Gibbs, had been by a
+Romanoff transmuted from wood to gold, and were now by the moon
+reduced temporarily to silver.</p>
+
+<p>In a great dense semicircle the young men disposed themselves
+around her. Those who were in front squatted down on the gravel;
+those who were behind knelt; the rest stood. Young Oxford! Here,
+in this mass of boyish faces, all fused and obliterated, was the
+realisation of that phrase. Two or three thousands of human
+bodies, human souls? Yet the effect of them in the moonlight was
+as of one great passive monster.</p>
+
+<p>So was it seen by the Duke, as he stood leaning against the
+wall, behind Zuleika's table. He saw it as a monster couchant and
+enchanted, a monster that was to die; and its death was in part
+his own doing. But remorse in him gave place to hostility.
+Zuleika had begun her performance. She was producing the Barber's
+Pole from her mouth. And it was to her that the Duke's heart went
+suddenly out in tenderness and pity. He forgot her levity and
+vanity--her wickedness, as he had inwardly called it. He thrilled
+with that intense anxiety which comes to a man when he sees his
+beloved offering to the public an exhibition of her skill, be it
+in singing, acting, dancing, or any other art. Would she acquit
+herself well? The lover's trepidation is painful enough when the
+beloved has genius--how should these clods appreciate her? and
+who set them in judgment over her? It must be worse when the
+beloved has mediocrity. And Zuleika, in conjuring, had rather
+less than that. Though indeed she took herself quite seriously as
+a conjurer, she brought to her art neither conscience nor
+ambition, in any true sense of those words. Since her debut, she
+had learned nothing and forgotten nothing. The stale and narrow
+repertory which she had acquired from Edward Gibbs was all she
+had to offer; and this, and her marked lack of skill, she eked
+out with the self-same "patter" that had sufficed that impossible
+young man. It was especially her jokes that now sent shudders up
+the spine of her lover, and brought tears to his eyes, and kept
+him in a state of terror as to what she would say next. "You
+see," she had exclaimed lightly after the production of the
+Barber's Pole, "how easy it is to set up business as a
+hairdresser." Over the Demon Egg-Cup she said that the egg was
+"as good as fresh." And her constantly reiterated
+catch-phrase--"Well, this is rather queer!"--was the most
+distressing thing of all.</p>
+
+<p>The Duke blushed to think what these men thought of her. Would
+love were blind! These her lovers were doubtless judging her.
+They forgave her--confound their impudence!--because of her
+beauty. The banality of her performance was an added grace. It
+made her piteous. Damn them, they were sorry for her. Little
+Noaks was squatting in the front row, peering up at her through
+his spectacles. Noaks was as sorry for her as the rest of them.
+Why didn't the earth yawn and swallow them all up?</p>
+
+<p>Our hero's unreasoning rage was fed by a not unreasonable
+jealousy. It was clear to him that Zuleika had forgotten his
+existence. To-day, as soon as he had killed her love, she had
+shown him how much less to her was his love than the crowd's. And
+now again it was only the crowd she cared for. He followed with
+his eyes her long slender figure as she threaded her way in and
+out of the crowd, sinuously, confidingly, producing a penny from
+one lad's elbow, a threepenny-bit from between another's neck and
+collar, half a crown from another's hair, and always repeating in
+that flute-like voice of hers "Well, this is rather queer!"
+Hither and thither she fared, her neck and arms gleaming white
+from the luminous blackness of her dress, in the luminous
+blueness of the night. At a distance, she might have been a
+wraith; or a breeze made visible; a vagrom breeze, warm and
+delicate, and in league with death.</p>
+
+<p>Yes, that is how she might have seemed to a casual observer.
+But to the Duke there was nothing weird about her: she was
+radiantly a woman; a goddess; and his first and last love. Bitter
+his heart was, but only against the mob she wooed, not against
+her for wooing it. She was cruel? All goddesses are that. She was
+demeaning herself? His soul welled up anew in pity, in
+passion.</p>
+
+<p>Yonder, in the Hall, the concert ran its course, making a
+feeble incidental music to the dark emotions of the quadrangle.
+It ended somewhat before the close of Zuleika's rival show; and
+then the steps from the Hall were thronged by ladies, who, with a
+sprinkling of dons, stood in attitudes of refined displeasure and
+vulgar curiosity. The Warden was just awake enough to notice the
+sea of undergraduates. Suspecting some breach of College
+discipline, he retired hastily to his own quarters, for fear his
+dignity might be somehow compromised.</p>
+
+<p>Was there ever, I wonder, an historian so pure as not to have
+wished just once to fob off on his readers just one bright fable
+for effect? I find myself sorely tempted to tell you that on
+Zuleika, as her entertainment drew to a close, the spirit of the
+higher thaumaturgy descended like a flame and found in her a
+worthy agent. Specious Apollyon whispers to me "Where would be
+the harm? Tell your readers that she cast a seed on the ground,
+and that therefrom presently arose a tamarind-tree which
+blossomed and bore fruit and, withering, vanished. Or say she
+conjured from an empty basket of osier a hissing and bridling
+snake. Why not? Your readers would be excited, gratified. And you
+would never be found out." But the grave eyes of Clio are bent on
+me, her servant. Oh pardon, madam: I did but waver for an
+instant. It is not too late to tell my readers that the climax of
+Zuleika's entertainment was only that dismal affair, the Magic
+Canister.</p>
+
+<p>It she took from the table, and, holding it aloft, cried "Now,
+before I say good night, I want to see if I have your confidence.
+But you mustn't think this is the confidence trick!" She handed
+the vessel to The MacQuern, who, looking like an overgrown
+acolyte, bore it after her as she went again among the audience.
+Pausing before a man in the front row, she asked him if he would
+trust her with his watch. He held it out to her. "Thank you," she
+said, letting her fingers touch his for a moment before she
+dropped it into the Magic Canister. From another man she borrowed
+a cigarette-case, from another a neck-tie, from another a pair of
+sleeve-links, from Noaks a ring--one of those iron rings which
+are supposed, rightly or wrongly, to alleviate rheumatism. And
+when she had made an ample selection, she began her
+return-journey to the table.</p>
+
+<p>On her way she saw in the shadow of the wall the figure of her
+forgotten Duke. She saw him, the one man she had ever loved, also
+the first man who had wished definitely to die for her; and she
+was touched by remorse. She had said she would remember him to
+her dying day; and already . . . But had he not refused her the
+wherewithal to remember him--the pearls she needed as the clou of
+her dear collection, the great relic among relics?</p>
+
+<p>"Would you trust me with your studs?" she asked him, in a
+voice that could be heard throughout the quadrangle, with a smile
+that was for him alone.</p>
+
+<p>There was no help for it. He quickly extricated from his
+shirt-front the black pearl and the pink. Her thanks had a
+special emphasis.</p>
+
+<p>The MacQuern placed the Magic Canister before her on the
+table. She pressed the outer sheath down on it. Then she inverted
+it so that the contents fell into the false lid; then she opened
+it, looked into it, and, exclaiming "Well, this is rather queer!"
+held it up so that the audience whose intelligence she was
+insulting might see there was nothing in it.</p>
+
+<p>"Accidents," she said, "will happen in the best-regulated
+canisters! But I think there is just a chance that I shall be
+able to restore your property. Excuse me for a moment." She then
+shut the canister, released the false lid, made several passes
+over it, opened it, looked into it and said with a flourish "Now
+I can clear my character!" Again she went among the crowd,
+attended by The MacQuern; and the loans-- priceless now because
+she had touched them--were in due course severally restored. When
+she took the canister from her acolyte, only the two studs
+remained in it.</p>
+
+<p>Not since the night of her flitting from the Gibbs' humble
+home had Zuleika thieved. Was she a back-slider? Would she rob
+the Duke, and his heir-presumptive, and Tanville-Tankertons yet
+unborn? Alas, yes. But what she now did was proof that she had
+qualms. And her way of doing it showed that for legerdemain she
+had after all a natural aptitude which, properly trained, might
+have won for her an honourable place in at least the second rank
+of contemporary prestidigitators. With a gesture of her
+disengaged hand, so swift as to be scarcely visible, she unhooked
+her ear-rings and "passed" them into the canister. This she did
+as she turned away from the crowd, on her way to the Duke. At the
+same moment, in a manner technically not less good, though
+morally deplorable, she withdrew the studs and "vanished" them
+into her bosom.</p>
+
+<p>Was it triumph, or shame, or of both a little that so flushed
+her cheeks as she stood before the man she had robbed? Or was it
+the excitement of giving a present to the man she had loved?
+Certain it is that the nakedness of her ears gave a new look to
+her face--a primitive look, open and sweetly wild. The Duke saw
+the difference, without noticing the cause. She was more adorable
+than ever. He blenched and swayed as in proximity to a loveliness
+beyond endurance. His heart cried out within him. A sudden mist
+came over his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>In the canister that she held out to him, the two pearls
+rattled like dice.</p>
+
+<p>"Keep them!" he whispered.</p>
+
+<p>"I shall," she whispered back, almost shyly. "But these, these
+are for you." And she took one of his hands, and, holding it
+open, tilted the canister over it, and let drop into it the two
+ear-rings, and went quickly away.</p>
+
+<p>As she re-appeared at the table, the crowd gave her a long
+ovation of gratitude for her performance--an ovation all the more
+impressive because it was solemn and subdued. She curtseyed again
+and again, not indeed with the timid simplicity of her first
+obeisance (so familiar already was she with the thought of the
+crowd's doom), but rather in the manner of a prima donna--chin
+up, eyelids down, all teeth manifest, and hands from the bosom
+flung ecstatically wide asunder.</p>
+
+<p>You know how, at a concert, a prima donna who has just sung
+insists on shaking hands with the accompanist, and dragging him
+forward, to show how beautiful her nature is, into the applause
+that is for herself alone. And your heart, like mine, has gone
+out to the wretched victim. Even so would you have felt for The
+MacQuern when Zuleika, on the implied assumption that half the
+credit was his, grasped him by the wrist, and, continuing to
+curtsey, would not release him till the last echoes of the
+clapping had died away.</p>
+
+<p>The ladies on the steps of the Hall moved down into the
+quadrangle, spreading their resentment like a miasma. The tragic
+passion of the crowd was merged in mere awkwardness. There was a
+general movement towards the College gate.</p>
+
+<p>Zuleika was putting her tricks back into the great casket, The
+MacQuern assisting her. The Scots, as I have said, are a shy
+race, but a resolute and a self-seeking. This young chieftain had
+not yet recovered from what his heroine had let him in for. But
+he did not lose the opportunity of asking her to lunch with him
+to-morrow.</p>
+
+<p>"Delighted," she said, fitting the Demon Egg-Cup into its
+groove. Then, looking up at him, "Are you popular?" she asked.
+"Have you many friends?" He nodded. She said he must invite them
+all.</p>
+
+<p>This was a blow to the young man, who, at once thrifty and
+infatuate, had planned a luncheon a deux. "I had hoped--" he
+began.</p>
+
+<p>"Vainly," she cut him short.</p>
+
+<p>There was a pause. "Whom shall I invite, then?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know any of them. How should I have preferences?" She
+remembered the Duke. She looked round and saw him still standing
+in the shadow of the wall. He came towards her. "Of course," she
+said hastily to her host, "you must ask HIM."</p>
+
+<p>The MacQuern complied. He turned to the Duke and told him that
+Miss Dobson had very kindly promised to lunch with him to-morrow.
+"And," said Zuleika, "I simply WON'T unless you will."</p>
+
+<p>The Duke looked at her. Had it not been arranged that he and
+she should spend his last day together? Did it mean nothing that
+she had given him her ear-rings? Quickly drawing about him some
+remnants of his tattered pride, he hid his wound, and accepted
+the invitation.</p>
+
+<p>"It seems a shame," said Zuleika to The MacQuern, "to ask you
+to bring this great heavy box all the way back again. But--"</p>
+
+<p>Those last poor rags of pride fell away now. The Duke threw a
+prehensile hand on the casket, and, coldly glaring at The
+MacQuern, pointed with his other hand towards the College gate.
+He, and he alone, was going to see Zuleika home. It was his last
+night on earth, and he was not to be trifled with. Such was the
+message of his eyes. The Scotsman's flashed back a precisely
+similar message.</p>
+
+<p>Men had fought for Zuleika, but never in her presence. Her
+eyes dilated. She had not the slightest impulse to throw herself
+between the two antagonists. Indeed, she stepped back, so as not
+to be in the way. A short sharp fight--how much better that is
+than bad blood! She hoped the better man would win; and (do not
+misjudge her) she rather hoped this man was the Duke. It occurred
+to her--a vague memory of some play or picture--that she ought to
+be holding aloft a candelabra of lit tapers; no, that was only
+done indoors, and in the eighteenth century. Ought she to hold a
+sponge? Idle, these speculations of hers, and based on complete
+ignorance of the manners and customs of undergraduates. The Duke
+and The MacQuern would never have come to blows in the presence
+of a lady. Their conflict was necessarily spiritual.</p>
+
+<p>And it was the Scotsman, Scots though he was, who had to
+yield. Cowed by something demoniac in the will-power pitted
+against his, he found himself retreating in the direction
+indicated by the Duke's forefinger.</p>
+
+<p>As he disappeared into the porch, Zuleika turned to the Duke.
+"You were splendid," she said softly. He knew that very well.
+Does the stag in his hour of victory need a diploma from the
+hind? Holding in his hands the malachite casket that was the
+symbol of his triumph, the Duke smiled dictatorially at his
+darling. He came near to thinking of her as a chattel. Then with
+a pang he remembered his abject devotion to her. Abject no longer
+though! The victory he had just won restored his manhood, his
+sense of supremacy among his fellows. He loved this woman on
+equal terms. She was transcendent? So was he, Dorset. To- night
+the world had on its moonlit surface two great ornaments--
+Zuleika and himself. Neither of the pair could be replaced. Was
+one of them to be shattered? Life and love were good. He had been
+mad to think of dying.</p>
+
+<p>No word was spoken as they went together to Salt Cellar. She
+expected him to talk about her conjuring tricks. Could he have
+been disappointed? She dared not inquire; for she had the
+sensitiveness, though no other quality whatsoever, of the true
+artist. She felt herself aggrieved. She had half a mind to ask
+him to give her back her ear-rings. And by the way, he hadn't yet
+thanked her for them! Well, she would make allowances for a
+condemned man. And again she remembered the omen of which he had
+told her. She looked at him, and then up into the sky. "This same
+moon," she said to herself, "sees the battlements of Tankerton.
+Does she see two black owls there? Does she hear them
+hooting?"</p>
+
+<p>They were in Salt Cellar now. "Melisande!" she called up to
+her window.</p>
+
+<p>"Hush!" said the Duke, "I have something to say to you."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you can say it all the better without that great box in
+your hands. I want my maid to carry it up to my room for me." And
+again she called out for Melisande, and received no answer. "I
+suppose she's in the house-keeper's room or somewhere. You had
+better put the box down inside the door. She can bring it up
+later."</p>
+
+<p>She pushed open the postern; and the Duke, as he stepped
+across the threshold, thrilled with a romantic awe. Re-emerging a
+moment later into the moonlight, he felt that she had been right
+about the box: it was fatal to self-expression; and he was glad
+he had not tried to speak on the way from the Front Quad: the
+soul needs gesture; and the Duke's first gesture now was to seize
+Zuleika's hands in his.</p>
+
+<p>She was too startled to move. "Zuleika!" he whispered. She was
+too angry to speak, but with a sudden twist she freed her wrists
+and darted back.</p>
+
+<p>He laughed. "You are afraid of me. You are afraid to let me
+kiss you, because you are afraid of loving me. This
+afternoon--here--I all but kissed you. I mistook you for Death. I
+was enamoured of Death. I was a fool. That is what YOU are, you
+incomparable darling: you are a fool. You are afraid of life. I
+am not. I love life. I am going to live for you, do you
+hear?"</p>
+
+<p>She stood with her back to the postern. Anger in her eyes had
+given place to scorn. "You mean," she said, "that you go back on
+your promise?"</p>
+
+<p>"You will release me from it."</p>
+
+<p>"You mean you are afraid to die?"</p>
+
+<p>"You will not be guilty of my death. You love me."</p>
+
+<p>"Good night, you miserable coward." She stepped back through
+the postern.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't, Zuleika! Miss Dobson, don't! Pull yourself together!
+Reflect! I implore you . . . You will repent . . ."</p>
+
+<p>Slowly she closed the postern on him.</p>
+
+<p>"You will repent. I shall wait here, under your window . .
+."</p>
+
+<p>He heard a bolt rasped into its socket. He heard the retreat
+of a light tread on the paven hall.</p>
+
+<p>And he hadn't even kissed her! That was his first thought. He
+ground his heel in the gravel.</p>
+
+<p>And he had hurt her wrists! This was Zuleika's first thought,
+as she came into her bedroom. Yes, there were two red marks where
+he had held her. No man had ever dared to lay hands on her. With
+a sense of contamination, she proceeded to wash her hands
+thoroughly with soap and water. From time to time such words as
+"cad" and "beast" came through her teeth.</p>
+
+<p>She dried her hands and flung herself into a chair, arose and
+went pacing the room. So this was the end of her great night!
+What had she done to deserve it? How had he dared?</p>
+
+<p>There was a sound as of rain against the window. She was glad.
+The night needed cleansing.</p>
+
+<p>He had told her she was afraid of life. Life!--to have herself
+caressed by HIM; humbly to devote herself to being humbly doted
+on; to be the slave of a slave; to swim in a private pond of
+treacle--ugh! If the thought weren't so cloying and degrading, it
+would be laughable.</p>
+
+<p>For a moment her hands hovered over those two golden and
+gemmed volumes encasing Bradshaw and the A.B.C. Guide. To leave
+Oxford by an early train, leave him to drown unthanked, unlooked
+at . . . But this could not be done without slighting all those
+hundreds of other men . . . And besides . . .</p>
+
+<p>Again that sound on the window-pane. This time it startled
+her. There seemed to be no rain. Could it have been--little bits
+of gravel? She darted noiselessly to the window, pushed it open,
+and looked down. She saw the upturned face of the Duke. She
+stepped back, trembling with fury, staring around her.
+Inspiration came.</p>
+
+<p>She thrust her head out again. "Are you there?" she
+whispered.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, yes. I knew you would come."</p>
+
+<p>"Wait a moment, wait!"</p>
+
+<p>The water-jug stood where she had left it, on the floor by the
+wash- stand. It was almost full, rather heavy. She bore it
+steadily to the window, and looked out.</p>
+
+<p>"Come a little nearer!" she whispered.</p>
+
+<p>The upturned and moonlit face obeyed her. She saw its lips
+forming the word "Zuleika." She took careful aim.</p>
+
+<p>Full on the face crashed the cascade of moonlit water,
+shooting out on all sides like the petals of some great silver
+anemone.</p>
+
+<p>She laughed shrilly as she leapt back, letting the empty jug
+roll over on the carpet. Then she stood tense, crouching, her
+hands to her mouth, her eyes askance, as much as to say "Now I've
+done it!" She listened hard, holding her breath. In the stillness
+of the night was a faint sound of dripping water, and presently
+of footsteps going away. Then stillness unbroken.</p>
+
+<p>�</p>
+
+<h3>XI</h3>
+
+<p>I said that I was Clio's servant. And I felt, when I said it,
+that you looked at me dubiously, and murmured among
+yourselves.</p>
+
+<p>Not that you doubted I was somewhat connected with Clio's
+household. The lady after whom I have named this book is alive,
+and well known to some of you personally, to all of you by
+repute. Nor had you finished my first page before you guessed my
+theme to be that episode in her life which caused so great a
+sensation among the newspaper-reading public a few years ago. (It
+all seems but yesterday, does it not? They are still vivid to us,
+those head-lines. We have hardly yet ceased to be edified by the
+morals pointed in those leading articles.) And yet very soon you
+found me behaving just like any novelist--reporting the exact
+words that passed between the protagonists at private interviews
+--aye, and the exact thoughts and emotions that were in their
+breasts. Little wonder that you wondered! Let me make things
+clear to you.</p>
+
+<p>I have my mistress' leave to do this. At first (for reasons
+which you will presently understand) she demurred. But I pointed
+out to her that I had been placed in a false position, and that
+until this were rectified neither she nor I could reap the credit
+due to us.</p>
+
+<p>Know, then, that for a long time Clio had been thoroughly
+discontented. She was happy enough, she says, when first she left
+the home of Pierus, her father, to become a Muse. On those humble
+beginnings she looks back with affection. She kept only one
+servant, Herodotus. The romantic element in him appealed to her.
+He died, and she had about her a large staff of able and faithful
+servants, whose way of doing their work irritated and depressed
+her. To them, apparently, life consisted of nothing but politics
+and military operations--things to which she, being a woman, was
+somewhat indifferent. She was jealous of Melpomene. It seemed to
+her that her own servants worked from without at a mass of dry
+details which might as well be forgotten. Melpomene's worked on
+material that was eternally interesting--the souls of men and
+women; and not from without, either; but rather casting
+themselves into those souls and showing to us the essence of
+them. She was particularly struck by a remark of Aristotle's,
+that tragedy was "more philosophic" than history, inasmuch as it
+concerned itself with what might be, while history was concerned
+with merely what had been. This summed up for her what she had
+often felt, but could not have exactly formulated. She saw that
+the department over which she presided was at best an inferior
+one. She saw that just what she had liked--and rightly liked --in
+poor dear Herodotus was just what prevented him from being a good
+historian. It was wrong to mix up facts and fancies. But why
+should her present servants deal with only one little special set
+of the variegated facts of life? It was not in her power to
+interfere. The Nine, by the terms of the charter that Zeus had
+granted to them, were bound to leave their servants an absolutely
+free hand. But Clio could at least refrain from reading the works
+which, by a legal fiction, she was supposed to inspire. Once or
+twice in the course of a century, she would glance into this or
+that new history book, only to lay it down with a shrug of her
+shoulders. Some of the mediaeval chronicles she rather liked. But
+when, one day, Pallas asked her what she thought of "The Decline
+and Fall of the Roman Empire" her only answer was "ostis toia
+echei en edone echei en edone toia" (For people who like that
+kind of thing, that is the kind of thing they like). This she did
+let slip. Generally, throughout all the centuries, she kept up a
+pretence of thinking history the greatest of all the arts. She
+always held her head high among her Sisters. It was only on the
+sly that she was an omnivorous reader of dramatic and lyric
+poetry. She watched with keen interest the earliest developments
+of the prose romance in southern Europe; and after the
+publication of "Clarissa Harlowe" she spent practically all her
+time in reading novels. It was not until the Spring of the year
+1863 that an entirely new element forced itself into her peaceful
+life. Zeus fell in love with her.</p>
+
+<p>To us, for whom so quickly "time doth transfix the flourish
+set on youth," there is something strange, even a trifle
+ludicrous, in the thought that Zeus, after all these years, is
+still at the beck and call of his passions. And it seems anyhow
+lamentable that he has not yet gained self-confidence enough to
+appear in his own person to the lady of his choice, and is still
+at pains to transform himself into whatever object he deems
+likeliest to please her. To Clio, suddenly from Olympus, he
+flashed down in the semblance of Kinglake's "Invasion of the
+Crimea" (four vols., large 8vo, half-calf). She saw through his
+disguise immediately, and, with great courage and independence,
+bade him begone. Rebuffed, he was not deflected. Indeed it would
+seem that Clio's high spirit did but sharpen his desire. Hardly a
+day passed but he appeared in what he hoped would be the
+irresistible form--a recently discovered fragment of Polybius, an
+advance copy of the forthcoming issue of "The Historical Review,"
+the note-book of Professor Carl Voertschlaffen . . . One day,
+all-prying Hermes told him of Clio's secret addiction to
+novel-reading. Thenceforth, year in, year out, it was in the form
+of fiction that Zeus wooed her. The sole result was that she grew
+sick of the sight of novels, and found a perverse pleasure in
+reading history. These dry details of what had actually happened
+were a relief, she told herself, from all that make-believe.</p>
+
+<p>One Sunday afternoon--the day before that very Monday on which
+this narrative opens--it occurred to her how fine a thing history
+might be if the historian had the novelist's privileges. Suppose
+he could be present at every scene which he was going to
+describe, a presence invisible and inevitable, and equipped with
+power to see into the breasts of all the persons whose actions he
+set himself to watch . . .</p>
+
+<p>While the Muse was thus musing, Zeus (disguised as Miss Annie
+S. Swan's latest work) paid his usual visit. She let her eyes
+rest on him. Hither and thither she divided her swift mind, and
+addressed him in winged words. "Zeus, father of gods and men,
+cloud-compeller, what wouldst thou of me? But first will I say
+what I would of thee"; and she besought him to extend to the
+writers of history such privileges as are granted to novelists.
+His whole manner had changed. He listened to her with the massive
+gravity of a ruler who never yet has allowed private influence to
+obscure his judgment. He was silent for some time after her
+appeal. Then, in a voice of thunder, which made quake the slopes
+of Parnassus, he gave his answer. He admitted the disabilities
+under which historians laboured. But the novelists--were they not
+equally handicapped? They had to treat of persons who never
+existed, events which never were. Only by the privilege of being
+in the thick of those events, and in the very bowels of those
+persons, could they hope to hold the reader's attention. If
+similar privileges were granted to the historian, the demand for
+novels would cease forthwith, and many thousand of hard-working,
+deserving men and women would be thrown out of employment. In
+fact, Clio had asked him an impossible favour. But he might--he
+said he conceivably might--be induced to let her have her way
+just once. In that event, all she would have to do was to keep
+her eye on the world's surface, and then, so soon as she had
+reason to think that somewhere was impending something of great
+import, to choose an historian. On him, straightway, Zeus would
+confer invisibility, inevitability, and psychic penetration, with
+a flawless memory thrown in.</p>
+
+<p>On the following afternoon, Clio's roving eye saw Zuleika
+stepping from the Paddington platform into the Oxford train. A
+few moments later I found myself suddenly on Parnassus. In
+hurried words Clio told me how I came there, and what I had to
+do. She said she had selected me because she knew me to be
+honest, sober, and capable, and no stranger to Oxford. Another
+moment, and I was at the throne of Zeus. With a majesty of
+gesture which I shall never forget, he stretched his hand over
+me, and I was indued with the promised gifts. And then, lo! I was
+on the platform of Oxford station. The train was not due for
+another hour. But the time passed pleasantly enough.</p>
+
+<p>It was fun to float all unseen, to float all unhampered by any
+corporeal nonsense, up and down the platform. It was fun to watch
+the inmost thoughts of the station-master, of the porters, of the
+young person at the buffet. But of course I did not let the
+holiday- mood master me. I realised the seriousness of my
+mission. I must concentrate myself on the matter in hand: Miss
+Dobson's visit. What was going to happen? Prescience was no part
+of my outfit. From what I knew about Miss Dobson, I deduced that
+she would be a great success. That was all. Had I had the
+instinct that was given to those Emperors in stone, and even to
+the dog Corker, I should have begged Clio to send in my stead
+some man of stronger nerve. She had charged me to be calmly
+vigilant, scrupulously fair. I could have been neither, had I
+from the outset foreseen all. Only because the immediate future
+was broken to me by degrees, first as a set of possibilities,
+then as a set of probabilities that yet might not come off, was I
+able to fulfil the trust imposed in me. Even so, it was hard. I
+had always accepted the doctrine that to understand all is to
+forgive all. Thanks to Zeus, I understood all about Miss Dobson,
+and yet there were moments when she repelled me--moments when I
+wished to see her neither from without nor from within. So soon
+as the Duke of Dorset met her on the Monday night, I felt I was
+in duty bound to keep him under constant surveillance. Yet there
+were moments when I was so sorry for him that I deemed myself a
+brute for shadowing him.</p>
+
+<p>Ever since I can remember, I have been beset by a recurring
+doubt as to whether I be or be not quite a gentleman. I have
+never attempted to define that term: I have but feverishly
+wondered whether in its usual acceptation (whatever that is) it
+be strictly applicable to myself. Many people hold that the
+qualities connoted by it are primarily moral--a kind heart,
+honourable conduct, and so forth. On Clio's mission, I found
+honour and kindness tugging me in precisely opposite directions.
+In so far as honour tugged the harder, was I the more or the less
+gentlemanly? But the test is not a fair one. Curiosity tugged on
+the side of honour. This goes to prove me a cad? Oh, set against
+it the fact that I did at one point betray Clio's trust. When
+Miss Dobson had done the deed recorded at the close of the
+foregoing chapter, I gave the Duke of Dorset an hour's grace.</p>
+
+<p>I could have done no less. In the lives of most of us is some
+one thing that we would not after the lapse of how many years
+soever confess to our most understanding friend; the thing that
+does not bear thinking of; the one thing to be forgotten; the
+unforgettable thing. Not the commission of some great crime: this
+can be atoned for by great penances; and the very enormity of it
+has a dark grandeur. Maybe, some little deadly act of meanness,
+some hole-and-corner treachery? But what a man has once willed to
+do, his will helps him to forget. The unforgettable thing in his
+life is usually not a thing he has done or left undone, but a
+thing done to him--some insolence or cruelty for which he could
+not, or did not, avenge himself. This it is that often comes back
+to him, years after, in his dreams, and thrusts itself suddenly
+into his waking thoughts, so that he clenches his hands, and
+shakes his head, and hums a tune loudly--anything to beat it off.
+In the very hour when first befell him that odious humiliation,
+would you have spied on him? I gave the Duke of Dorset an hour's
+grace.</p>
+
+<p>What were his thoughts in that interval, what words, if any,
+he uttered to the night, never will be known. For this, Clio has
+abused me in language less befitting a Muse than a fishwife. I do
+not care. I would rather be chidden by Clio than by my own sense
+of delicacy, any day.</p>
+
+<p>�</p>
+
+<h3>XII</h3>
+
+<p>Not less averse than from dogging the Duke was I from
+remaining another instant in the presence of Miss Dobson. There
+seemed to be no possible excuse for her. This time she had gone
+too far. She was outrageous. As soon as the Duke had had time to
+get clear away, I floated out into the night.</p>
+
+<p>I may have consciously reasoned that the best way to forget
+the present was in the revival of memories. Or I may have been
+driven by a mere homing instinct. Anyhow, it was in the direction
+of my old College that I went. Midnight was tolling as I floated
+in through the shut grim gate at which I had so often stood
+knocking for admission.</p>
+
+<p>The man who now occupied my room had sported his oak--my oak.
+I read the name on the visiting-card attached thereto--E. J.
+Craddock--and went in.</p>
+
+<p>E. J. Craddock, interloper, was sitting at my table, with
+elbows squared and head on one side, in the act of literary
+composition. The oars and caps on my walls betokened him a
+rowing-man. Indeed, I recognised his somewhat heavy face as that
+of the man whom, from the Judas barge this afternoon, I had seen
+rowing "stroke" in my College Eight.</p>
+
+<p>He ought, therefore, to have been in bed and asleep two hours
+ago. And the offence of his vigil was aggravated by a large
+tumbler that stood in front of him, containing whisky and soda.
+From this he took a deep draught. Then he read over what he had
+written. I did not care to peer over his shoulder at MS. which,
+though written in my room, was not intended for my eyes. But the
+writer's brain was open to me; and he had written "I, the
+undersigned Edward Joseph Craddock, do hereby leave and bequeath
+all my personal and other property to Zuleika Dobson, spinster.
+This is my last will and testament."</p>
+
+<p>He gnawed his pen, and presently altered the "hereby leave" to
+"hereby and herewith leave." Fool!</p>
+
+<p>I thereby and therewith left him. As I emerged through the
+floor of the room above--through the very carpet that had so
+often been steeped in wine, and encrusted with smithereens of
+glass, in the brave old days of a well-remembered occupant--I
+found two men, both of them evidently reading-men. One of them
+was pacing round the room. "Do you know," he was saying, "what
+she reminded me of, all the time? Those words--aren't they in the
+Song of Solomon?--'fair as the moon, clear as the sun, and . . .
+and . . .'"</p>
+
+<p>"'Terrible as an army with banners,'" supplied his
+host--rather testily, for he was writing a letter. It began "My
+dear Father. By the time you receive this I shall have taken a
+step which . . ."</p>
+
+<p>Clearly it was vain to seek distraction in my old College. I
+floated out into the untenanted meadows. Over them was the usual
+coverlet of white vapour, trailed from the Isis right up to
+Merton Wall. The scent of these meadows' moisture is the scent of
+Oxford. Even in hottest noon, one feels that the sun has not
+dried THEM. Always there is moisture drifting across them,
+drifting into the Colleges. It, one suspects, must have had much
+to do with the evocation of what is called the Oxford
+spirit--that gentlest spirit, so lingering and searching, so dear
+to them who as youths were brought into ken of it, so
+exasperating to them who were not. Yes, certainly, it is this
+mild, miasmal air, not less than the grey beauty and gravity of
+the buildings, that has helped Oxford to produce, and foster
+eternally, her peculiar race of artist-scholars, scholar-artists.
+The undergraduate, in his brief periods of residence, is too
+buoyant to be mastered by the spirit of the place. He does but
+salute it, and catch the manner. It is on him who stays to spend
+his maturity here that the spirit will in its fulness gradually
+descend. The buildings and their traditions keep astir in his
+mind whatsoever is gracious; the climate, enfolding and
+enfeebling him, lulling him, keeps him careless of the sharp,
+harsh, exigent realities of the outer world. Careless? Not
+utterly. These realities may be seen by him. He may study them,
+be amused or touched by them. But they cannot fire him. Oxford is
+too damp for that. The "movements" made there have been no more
+than protests against the mobility of others. They have been
+without the dynamic quality implied in their name. They have been
+no more than the sighs of men gazing at what other men had left
+behind them; faint, impossible appeals to the god of
+retrogression, uttered for their own sake and ritual, rather than
+with any intent that they should be heard. Oxford, that
+lotus-land, saps the will-power, the power of action. But, in
+doing so, it clarifies the mind, makes larger the vision, gives,
+above all, that playful and caressing suavity of manner which
+comes of a conviction that nothing matters, except ideas, and
+that not even ideas are worth dying for, inasmuch as the ghosts
+of them slain seem worthy of yet more piously elaborate homage
+than can be given to them in their heyday. If the Colleges could
+be transferred to the dry and bracing top of some hill, doubtless
+they would be more evidently useful to the nation. But let us be
+glad there is no engineer or enchanter to compass that task.
+Egomet, I would liefer have the rest of England subside into the
+sea than have Oxford set on a salubrious level. For there is
+nothing in England to be matched with what lurks in the vapours
+of these meadows, and in the shadows of these spires--that
+mysterious, inenubilable spirit, spirit of Oxford. Oxford! The
+very sight of the word printed, or sound of it spoken, is fraught
+for me with most actual magic.</p>
+
+<p>And on that moonlit night when I floated among the vapours of
+these meadows, myself less than a vapour, I knew and loved Oxford
+as never before, as never since. Yonder, in the Colleges, was the
+fume and fret of tragedy--Love as Death's decoy, and Youth
+following her. What then? Not Oxford was menaced. Come what
+might, not a stone of Oxford's walls would be loosened, nor a
+wreath of her vapours be undone, nor lost a breath of her sacred
+spirit.</p>
+
+<p>I floated up into the higher, drier air, that I might, for
+once, see the total body of that spirit.</p>
+
+<p>There lay Oxford far beneath me, like a map in grey and black
+and silver. All that I had known only as great single things I
+saw now outspread in apposition, and tiny; tiny symbols, as it
+were, of themselves, greatly symbolising their oneness. There
+they lay, these multitudinous and disparate quadrangles, all
+their rivalries merged in the making of a great catholic pattern.
+And the roofs of the buildings around them seemed level with
+their lawns. No higher the roofs of the very towers. Up from
+their tiny segment of the earth's spinning surface they stood
+negligible beneath infinity. And new, too, quite new, in
+eternity; transient upstarts. I saw Oxford as a place that had no
+more past and no more future than a mining-camp. I smiled down. O
+hoary and unassailable mushroom! . . . But if a man carry his
+sense of proportion far enough, lo! he is back at the point from
+which he started. He knows that eternity, as conceived by him, is
+but an instant in eternity, and infinity but a speck in infinity.
+How should they belittle the things near to him? . . . Oxford was
+venerable and magical, after all, and enduring. Aye, and not
+because she would endure was it the less lamentable that the
+young lives within her walls were like to be taken. My equanimity
+was gone; and a tear fell on Oxford.</p>
+
+<p>And then, as though Oxford herself were speaking up to me, the
+air vibrated with a sweet noise of music. It was the hour of one;
+the end of the Duke's hour of grace. Through the silvery tangle
+of sounds from other clocks I floated quickly down to the
+Broad.</p>
+
+<p>�</p>
+
+<h3>XIII</h3>
+
+<p>I had on the way a horrible apprehension. What if the Duke, in
+his agony, had taken the one means to forgetfulness? His room, I
+could see, was lit up; but a man does not necessarily choose to
+die in the dark. I hovered, afraid, over the dome of the
+Sheldonian. I saw that the window of the room above the Duke's
+was also lit up. And there was no reason at all to doubt the
+survival of Noaks. Perhaps the sight of him would hearten me.</p>
+
+<p>I was wrong. The sight of Noaks in his room was as dismal a
+thing as could be. With his chin sunk on his breast, he sat
+there, on a rickety chair, staring up at the mantel-piece. This
+he had decked out as a sort of shrine. In the centre, aloft on an
+inverted tin that had contained Abernethy biscuits, stood a blue
+plush frame, with an inner rim of brass, several sizes too big
+for the picture-postcard installed in it. Zuleika's image gazed
+forth with a smile that was obviously not intended for the humble
+worshipper at this execrable shrine. On either side of her stood
+a small vase, one holding some geraniums, the other some
+mignonette. And just beneath her was placed that iron ring which,
+rightly or wrongly, Noaks supposed to alleviate rheumatism--that
+same iron ring which, by her touch to-night, had been charged for
+him with a yet deeper magic, insomuch that he dared no longer
+wear it, and had set it before her as an oblation.</p>
+
+<p>Yet, for all his humility, he was possessed by a spirit of
+egoism that repelled me. While he sat peering over his spectacles
+at the beauteous image, he said again and again to himself, in a
+hollow voice, "I am so young to die." Every time he said this,
+two large, pear-shaped tears emerged from behind his spectacles,
+and found their way to his waistcoat. It did not seem to strike
+him that quite half of the undergraduates who contemplated
+death--and contemplated it in a fearless, wholesome, manly
+fashion--were his juniors. It seemed to seem to him that his own
+death, even though all those other far brighter and more
+promising lives than his were to be sacrificed, was a thing to
+bother about. Well, if he did not want to die, why could he not
+have, at least, the courage of his cowardice? The world would not
+cease to revolve because Noaks still clung to its surface. For me
+the whole tragedy was cheapened by his participation in it. I was
+fain to leave him. His squint, his short legs dangling towards
+the floor, his tear-sodden waistcoat, and his refrain "I am so
+young to die," were beyond measure exasperating. Yet I hesitated
+to pass into the room beneath, for fear of what I might see
+there.</p>
+
+<p>How long I might have paltered, had no sound come from that
+room, I know not. But a sound came, sharp and sudden in the
+night, instantly reassuring. I swept down into the presence of
+the Duke.</p>
+
+<p>He stood with his head flung back and his arms folded,
+gorgeous in a dressing-gown of crimson brocade. In animation of
+pride and pomp, he looked less like a mortal man than like a
+figure from some great biblical group by Paul Veronese.</p>
+
+<p>And this was he whom I had presumed to pity! And this was he
+whom I had half expected to find dead.</p>
+
+<p>His face, usually pale, was now red; and his hair, which no
+eye had ever yet seen disordered, stood up in a glistening shock.
+These two changes in him intensified the effect of vitality. One
+of them, however, vanished as I watched it. The Duke's face
+resumed its pallor. I realised then that he had but blushed; and
+I realised, simultaneously, that what had called that blush to
+his cheek was what had also been the signal to me that he was
+alive. His blush had been a pendant to his sneeze. And his sneeze
+had been a pendant to that outrage which he had been striving to
+forget. He had caught cold.</p>
+
+<p>He had caught cold. In the hour of his soul's bitter need, his
+body had been suborned against him. Base! Had he not stripped his
+body of its wet vesture? Had he not vigorously dried his hair,
+and robed himself in crimson, and struck in solitude such
+attitudes as were most congruous with his high spirit and high
+rank? He had set himself to crush remembrance of that by which
+through his body his soul had been assailed. And well had he
+known that in this conflict a giant demon was his antagonist. But
+that his own body would play traitor--no, this he had not
+foreseen. This was too base a thing to be foreseen.</p>
+
+<p>He stood quite still, a figure orgulous and splendent. And it
+seemed as though the hot night, too, stood still, to watch him,
+in awe, through the open lattices of his window, breathlessly.
+But to me, equipped to see beneath the surface, he was piteous,
+piteous in ratio to the pretension of his aspect. Had he crouched
+down and sobbed, I should have been as much relieved as he. But
+he stood seignorial and aquiline.</p>
+
+<p>Painless, by comparison with this conflict in him, seemed the
+conflict that had raged in him yesternight. Then, it had been his
+dandihood against his passion for Zuleika. What mattered the
+issue? Whichever won, the victory were sweet. And of this he had
+all the while been subconscious, gallantly though he fought for
+his pride of dandihood. To-night in the battle between pride and
+memory, he knew from the outset that pride's was but a forlorn
+hope, and that memory would be barbarous in her triumph. Not
+winning to oblivion, he must hate with a fathomless hatred. Of
+all the emotions, hatred is the most excruciating. Of all the
+objects of hatred, a woman once loved is the most hateful. Of all
+deaths, the bitterest that can befall a man is that he lay down
+his life to flatter the woman he deems vilest of her sex.</p>
+
+<p>Such was the death that the Duke of Dorset saw confronting
+him. Most men, when they are at war with the past, have the
+future as ally. Looking steadfastly forward, they can forget. The
+Duke's future was openly in league with his past. For him,
+prospect was memory. All that there was for him of future was the
+death to which his honour was pledged. To envisage that was to .
+. . no, he would NOT envisage it! With a passionate effort he
+hypnotised himself to think of nothing at all. His brain, into
+which, by the power Zeus gave me, I was gazing, became a perfect
+vacuum, insulated by the will. It was the kind of experiment
+which scientists call "beautiful." And yes, beautiful it was.</p>
+
+<p>But not in the eyes of Nature. She abhors a vacuum. Seeing the
+enormous odds against which the Duke was fighting, she might well
+have stood aside. But she has no sense of sport whatsoever. She
+stepped in.</p>
+
+<p>At first I did not realise what was happening. I saw the
+Duke's eyes contract, and the muscles of his mouth drawn down,
+and, at the same time, a tense upward movement of his whole body.
+Then, suddenly, the strain undone: a downward dart of the head, a
+loud percussion. Thrice the Duke sneezed, with a sound that was
+as the bursting of the dams of body and soul together; then
+sneezed again.</p>
+
+<p>Now was his will broken. He capitulated. In rushed shame and
+horror and hatred, pell-mell, to ravage him.</p>
+
+<p>What care now, what use, for deportment? He walked coweringly
+round and round his room, with frantic gestures, with head bowed.
+He shuffled and slunk. His dressing-gown had the look of a
+gabardine.</p>
+
+<p>Shame and horror and hatred went slashing and hewing
+throughout the fallen citadel. At length, exhausted, he flung
+himself down on the window-seat and leaned out into the night,
+panting. The air was full of thunder. He clutched at his throat.
+From the depths of the black caverns beneath their brows the eyes
+of the unsleeping Emperors watched him.</p>
+
+<p>He had gone through much in the day that was past. He had
+loved and lost. He had striven to recapture, and had failed. In a
+strange resolve he had found serenity and joy. He had been at the
+point of death, and had been saved. He had seen that his beloved
+was worthless, and he had not cared. He had fought for her, and
+conquered; and had pled with her, and--all these memories were
+loathsome by reason of that final thing which had all the while
+lain in wait for him.</p>
+
+<p>He looked back and saw himself as he had been at a score of
+crucial moments in the day--always in the shadow of that final
+thing. He saw himself as he had been on the playing-fields of
+Eton; aye! and in the arms of his nurse, to and fro on the
+terrace of Tankerton--always in the shadow of that final thing,
+always piteous and ludicrous, doomed. Thank heaven the future was
+unknowable? It wasn't, now. To-morrow-- to-day--he must die for
+that accursed fiend of a woman--the woman with the hyena
+laugh.</p>
+
+<p>What to do meanwhile? Impossible to sleep. He felt in his body
+the strain of his quick sequence of spiritual adventures. He was
+dog- tired. But his brain was furiously out of hand: no stopping
+it. And the night was stifling. And all the while, in the dead
+silence, as though his soul had ears, there was a sound. It was a
+very faint, unearthly sound, and seemed to come from nowhere, yet
+to have a meaning. He feared he was rather over-wrought.</p>
+
+<p>He must express himself. That would soothe him. Ever since
+childhood he had had, from time to time, the impulse to set down
+in writing his thoughts or his moods. In such exercises he had
+found for his self- consciousness the vent which natures less
+reserved than his find in casual talk with Tom, Dick and Harry,
+with Jane, Susan, and Liz. Aloof from either of these triads, he
+had in his first term at Eton taken to himself as confidant, and
+retained ever since, a great quarto volume, bound in red morocco
+and stamped with his coronet and cypher. It was herein, year by
+year, that his soul spread itself.</p>
+
+<p>He wrote mostly in English prose; but other modes were not
+infrequent. Whenever he was abroad, it was his courteous habit to
+write in the language of the country where he was
+residing--French, when he was in his house on the Champs Elysees;
+Italian, when he was in his villa at Baiae; and so on. When he
+was in his own country he felt himself free to deviate sometimes
+from the vernacular into whatever language were aptest to his
+frame of mind. In his sterner moods he gravitated to Latin, and
+wrought the noble iron of that language to effects that were, if
+anything, a trifle over-impressive. He found for his highest
+flights of contemplation a handy vehicle in Sanscrit. In hours of
+mere joy it was Greek poetry that flowed likeliest from his pen;
+and he had a special fondness for the metre of Alcaeus.</p>
+
+<p>And now, too, in his darkest hour, it was Greek that surged in
+him-- iambics of thunderous wrath such as those which are
+volleyed by Prometheus. But as he sat down to his writing-table,
+and unlocked the dear old album, and dipped his pen in the ink, a
+great calm fell on him. The iambics in him began to breathe such
+sweetness as is on the lips of Alcestis going to her doom. But,
+just as he set pen to paper, his hand faltered, and he sprang up,
+victim of another and yet more violent fit of sneezing.</p>
+
+<p>Disbuskined, dangerous. The spirit of Juvenal woke in him. He
+would flay. He would make Woman (as he called Zuleika) writhe.
+Latin hexameters, of course. An epistle to his heir presumptive .
+. . "Vae tibi," he began,</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>"Vae tibi, vae misero, nisi circumspexeris artes</p>
+
+<p>Femineas, nam nulla salus quin femina possit</p>
+
+<p>Tradere, nulla fides quin"--</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>"Quin," he repeated. In writing soliloquies, his trouble was
+to curb inspiration. The thought that he was addressing his
+heir-presumptive-- now heir-only-too-apparent--gave him pause.
+Nor, he reflected, was he addressing this brute only, but a huge
+posthumous audience. These hexameters would be sure to appear in
+the "authorised" biography. "A melancholy interest attaches to
+the following lines, written, it would seem, on the very eve of"
+. . . He winced. Was it really possible, and no dream, that he
+was to die to-morrow--to-day?</p>
+
+<p>Even you, unassuming reader, go about with a vague notion that
+in your case, somehow, the ultimate demand of nature will be
+waived. The Duke, until he conceived his sudden desire to die,
+had deemed himself certainly exempt. And now, as he sat staring
+at his window, he saw in the paling of the night the presage of
+the dawn of his own last day. Sometimes (orphaned though he was
+in early childhood) he had even found it hard to believe there
+was no exemption for those to whom he stood in any personal
+relation. He remembered how, soon after he went to Eton, he had
+received almost with incredulity the news of the death of his
+god-father, Lord Stackley, an octogenarian. . . . He took from
+the table his album, knowing that on one of the earliest pages
+was inscribed his boyish sense of that bereavement. Yes, here the
+passage was, written in a large round hand:</p>
+
+<p>"Death knocks, as we know, at the door of the cottage and of
+the castle. He stalks up the front-garden and the steep steps of
+the semi-detached villa, and plies the ornamental knocker so
+imperiously that the panels of imitation stained glass quiver in
+the thin front- door. Even the family that occupies the topmost
+story of a building without a lift is on his ghastly
+visiting-list. He rattles his fleshless knuckles against the door
+of the gypsy's caravan. Into the savage's tent, wigwam, or
+wattled hut, he darts unbidden. Even on the hermit in the cave he
+forces his obnoxious presence. His is an universal beat, and he
+walks it with a grin. But be sure it is at the sombre portal of
+the nobleman that he knocks with the greatest gusto. It is there,
+where haply his visit will be commemorated with a hatchment; it
+is then, when the muffled thunder of the Dead March in 'Saul'
+will soon be rolling in cathedrals; it is then, it is there, that
+the pride of his unquestioned power comes grimliest home to him.
+Is there no withstanding him? Why should he be admitted always
+with awe, a cravenly-honoured guest? When next he calls, let the
+butler send him about his business, or tell him to step round to
+the servants' entrance. If it be made plain to him that his
+visits are an impertinence, he will soon be disemboldened. Once
+the aristocracy make a stand against him, there need be no more
+trouble about the exorbitant Duties named after him. And for the
+hereditary system--that system which both offends the common
+sense of the Radical, and wounds the Tory by its implied
+admission that noblemen are mortal--a seemly substitute will have
+been found."</p>
+
+<p>Artless and crude in expression, very boyish, it seemed now to
+its author. Yet, in its simple wistfulness, it had quality: it
+rang true. The Duke wondered whether, with all that he had since
+mastered in the great art of English prose, he had not lost
+something, too.</p>
+
+<p>"Is there no withstanding him?" To think that the boy who
+uttered that cry, and gave back so brave an answer, was within
+nine years to go seek death of his own accord! How the gods must
+be laughing! Yes, the exquisite point of the joke, for them, was
+that he CHOSE to die. But--and, as the thought flashed through
+him, he started like a man shot--what if he chose not to? Stay,
+surely there was some reason why he MUST die. Else, why
+throughout the night had he taken his doom for granted? . . .
+Honour: yes, he had pledged himself. Better death than dishonour.
+Was it, though? was it? Ah, he, who had come so near to death,
+saw dishonour as a tiny trifle. Where was the sting of it? Not he
+would be ridiculous to-morrow--to-day. Every one would acclaim
+his splendid act of moral courage. She, she, the hyena woman,
+would be the fool. No one would have thought of dying for her,
+had he not set the example. Every one would follow his new
+example. Yes, he would save Oxford yet. That was his duty. Duty
+and darling vengeance! And life-- life!</p>
+
+<p>It was full dawn now. Gone was that faint, monotonous sound
+which had punctuated in his soul the horrors of his vigil. But,
+in reminder of those hours, his lamp was still burning. He
+extinguished it; and the going-out of that tarnished light made
+perfect his sense of release.</p>
+
+<p>He threw wide his arms in welcome of the great adorable day,
+and of all the great adorable days that were to be his.</p>
+
+<p>He leaned out from his window, drinking the dawn in. The gods
+had made merry over him, had they? And the cry of the hyena had
+made night hideous. Well, it was his turn now. He would laugh
+last and loudest.</p>
+
+<p>And already, for what was to be, he laughed outright into the
+morning; insomuch that the birds in the trees of Trinity, and
+still more the Emperors over the way, marvelled greatly.</p>
+
+<p>�</p>
+
+<h3>XIV</h3>
+
+<p>They had awaited thousands and innumerable thousands of
+daybreaks in the Broad, these Emperors, counting the long slow
+hours till the night were over. It is in the night especially
+that their fallen greatness haunts them. Day brings some
+distraction. They are not incurious of the lives around
+them--these little lives that succeed one another so quickly. To
+them, in their immemorial old age, youth is a constant wonder.
+And so is death, which to them comes not. Youth or death-- which,
+they had often asked themselves, was the goodlier? But it was ill
+that these two things should be mated. It was ill-come, this day
+of days.</p>
+
+<p>Long after the Duke was in bed and asleep, his peal of
+laughter echoed in the ears of the Emperors. Why had he
+laughed?</p>
+
+<p>And they said to themselves "We are very old men, and broken,
+and in a land not our own. There are things that we do not
+understand."</p>
+
+<p>Brief was the freshness of the dawn. From all points of the
+compass, dark grey clouds mounted into the sky. There, taking
+their places as though in accordance to a strategic plan laid
+down for them, they ponderously massed themselves, and presently,
+as at a given signal, drew nearer to earth, and halted, an
+irresistible great army, awaiting orders.</p>
+
+<p>Somewhere under cover of them the sun went his way,
+transmitting a sulphurous heat. The very birds in the trees of
+Trinity were oppressed and did not twitter. The very leaves did
+not whisper.</p>
+
+<p>Out through the railings, and across the road, prowled a
+skimpy and dingy cat, trying to look like a tiger.</p>
+
+<p>It was all very sinister and dismal.</p>
+
+<p>The hours passed. The Broad put forth, one by one, its signs
+of waking.</p>
+
+<p>Soon after eight o'clock, as usual, the front-door of the
+Duke's lodgings was opened from within. The Emperors watched for
+the faint cloud of dust that presently emerged, and for her whom
+it preceded. To them, this first outcoming of the landlady's
+daughter was a moment of daily interest. Katie!--they had known
+her as a toddling child; and later as a little girl scampering
+off to school, all legs and pinafore and streaming golden hair.
+And now she was sixteen years old. Her hair, tied back at the
+nape of her neck, would very soon be "up." Her big blue eyes were
+as they had always been; but she had long passed out of pinafores
+into aprons, had taken on a sedateness befitting her years and
+her duties, and was anxious to be regarded rather as an aunt than
+as a sister by her brother Clarence, aged twelve. The Emperors
+had always predicted that she would be pretty. And very pretty
+she was.</p>
+
+<p>As she came slowly out, with eyes downcast to her broom,
+sweeping the dust so seriously over the doorstep and then across
+the pavement, and anon when she reappeared with pail and
+scrubbing-brush, and abased herself before the doorstep, and
+wrought so vehemently there, what filled her little soul was not
+the dignity of manual labour. The duties that Zuleika had envied
+her were dear to her exactly as they would have been, yesterday
+morning, to Zuleika. The Emperors had often noticed that during
+vacations their little favourite's treatment of the doorstep was
+languid and perfunctory. They knew well her secret, and always
+(for who can be long in England without becoming sentimental?)
+they cherished the hope of a romantic union between her and "a
+certain young gentleman," as they archly called the Duke. His
+continued indifference to her they took almost as an affront to
+themselves. Where in all England was a prettier, sweeter girl
+than their Katie? The sudden irruption of Zuleika into Oxford was
+especially grievous to them because they could no longer hope
+against hope that Katie would be led by the Duke to the altar,
+and thence into the highest social circles, and live happily ever
+after. Luckily it was for Katie, however, that they had no power
+to fill her head with their foolish notions. It was well for her
+to have never doubted she loved in vain. She had soon grown used
+to her lot. Not until yesterday had there been any bitterness.
+Jealousy surged in Katie at the very moment when she beheld
+Zuleika on the threshold. A glance at the Duke's face when she
+showed the visitor up was enough to acquaint her with the state
+of his heart. And she did not, for confirming her intuition, need
+the two or three opportunities she took of listening at the
+keyhole. What in the course of those informal audiences did
+surprise her--so much indeed that she could hardly believe her
+ear--was that it was possible for a woman not to love the Duke.
+Her jealousy of "that Miss Dobson" was for a while swallowed up
+in her pity for him. What she had borne so cheerfully for herself
+she could not bear for her hero. She wished she had not happened
+to listen.</p>
+
+<p>And this morning, while she knelt swaying and spreading over
+"his" doorstep, her blue eyes added certain tears to be scrubbed
+away in the general moisture of the stone. Rising, she dried her
+hands in her apron, and dried her eyes with her hands. Lest her
+mother should see that she had been crying, she loitered outside
+the door. Suddenly, her roving glance changed to a stare of acute
+hostility. She knew well that the person wandering towards her
+was--no, not "that Miss Dobson," as she had for the fraction of
+an instant supposed, but the next worst thing.</p>
+
+<p>It has been said that Melisande indoors was an evidently
+French maid. Out of doors she was not less evidently Zuleika's.
+Not that she aped her mistress. The resemblance had come by force
+of propinquity and devotion. Nature had laid no basis for it. Not
+one point of form or colour had the two women in common. It has
+been said that Zuleika was not strictly beautiful. Melisande,
+like most Frenchwomen, was strictly plain. But in expression and
+port, in her whole tournure, she had become, as every good maid
+does, her mistress' replica. The poise of her head, the boldness
+of her regard and brilliance of her smile, the leisurely and
+swinging way in which she walked, with a hand on the hip--all
+these things of hers were Zuleika's too. She was no conqueror.
+None but the man to whom she was betrothed--a waiter at the Cafe
+Tourtel, named Pelleas--had ever paid court to her; nor was she
+covetous of other hearts. Yet she looked victorious, and
+insatiable of victories, and "terrible as an army with
+banners."</p>
+
+<p>In the hand that was not on her hip she carried a letter. And
+on her shoulders she had to bear the full burden of the hatred
+that Zuleika had inspired in Katie. But this she did not know.
+She came glancing boldly, leisurely, at the numbers on the
+front-doors.</p>
+
+<p>Katie stepped back on to the doorstep, lest the inferiority of
+her stature should mar the effect of her disdain.</p>
+
+<p>"Good-day. Is it here that Duke D'Orsay lives?" asked
+Melisande, as nearly accurate as a Gaul may be in such
+matters.</p>
+
+<p>"The Duke of Dorset," said Katie with a cold and insular
+emphasis, "lives here." And "You," she tried to convey with her
+eyes, "you, for all your smart black silk, are a hireling. I am
+Miss Batch. I happen to have a hobby for housework. I have not
+been crying."</p>
+
+<p>"Then please mount this to him at once," said Melisande,
+holding out the letter. "It is from Miss Dobson's part. Very
+express. I wait response."</p>
+
+<p>"You are very ugly," Katie signalled with her eyes. "I am very
+pretty. I have the Oxfordshire complexion. And I play the piano."
+With her lips she said merely, "His Grace is not called before
+nine o'clock."</p>
+
+<p>"But to-day you go wake him now--quick--is it not?"</p>
+
+<p>"Quite out of the question," said Katie. "If you care to leave
+that letter here, I will see that it is placed on his Grace's
+breakfast- table, with the morning's post." "For the rest," added
+her eyes, "Down with France!"</p>
+
+<p>"I find you droll, but droll, my little one!" cried
+Melisande.</p>
+
+<p>Katie stepped back and shut the door in her face. "Like a
+little Empress," the Emperors commented.</p>
+
+<p>The Frenchwoman threw up her hands and apostrophised heaven.
+To this day she believes that all the bonnes of Oxford are mad,
+but mad, and of a madness.</p>
+
+<p>She stared at the door, at the pail and scrubbing-brush that
+had been shut out with her, at the letter in her hand. She
+decided that she had better drop the letter into the slit in the
+door and make report to Miss Dobson.</p>
+
+<p>As the envelope fell through the slit to the door-mat, Katie
+made at Melisande a grimace which, had not the panels been
+opaque, would have astonished the Emperors. Resuming her dignity,
+she picked the thing up, and, at arm's length, examined it. It
+was inscribed in pencil. Katie's lips curled at sight of the
+large, audacious handwriting. But it is probable that whatever
+kind of handwriting Zuleika might have had would have been just
+the kind that Katie would have expected.</p>
+
+<p>Fingering the envelope, she wondered what the wretched woman
+had to say. It occurred to her that the kettle was simmering on
+the hob in the kitchen, and that she might easily steam open the
+envelope and master its contents. However, her doing this would
+have in no way affected the course of the tragedy. And so the
+gods (being to-day in a strictly artistic mood) prompted her to
+mind her own business.</p>
+
+<p>Laying the Duke's table for breakfast, she made as usual a
+neat rectangular pile of the letters that had come for him by
+post. Zuleika's letter she threw down askew. That luxury she
+allowed herself.</p>
+
+<p>And he, when he saw the letter, allowed himself the luxury of
+leaving it unopened awhile. Whatever its purport, he knew it
+could but minister to his happy malice. A few hours ago, with
+what shame and dread it would have stricken him! Now it was a
+dainty to be dallied with.</p>
+
+<p>His eyes rested on the black tin boxes that contained his
+robes of the Garter. Hateful had been the sight of them in the
+watches of the night, when he thought he had worn those robes for
+the last time. But now--!</p>
+
+<p>He opened Zuleika's letter. It did not disappoint him.</p>
+
+<p>"DEAR DUKE,--DO, DO forgive me. I am beyond words ashamed of
+the silly tomboyish thing I did last night. Of course it was no
+worse than that, but an awful fear haunts me that you MAY have
+thought I acted in anger at the idea of your breaking your
+promise to me. Well, it is quite true I had been hurt and angry
+when you hinted at doing that, but the moment I left you I saw
+that you had been only in fun, and I enjoyed the joke against
+myself, though I thought it was rather too bad of you. And then,
+as a sort of revenge, but almost before I knew what I was doing,
+I played that IDIOTIC practical joke on you. I have been
+MISERABLE ever since. DO come round as early as possible and tell
+me I am forgiven. But before you tell me that, please lecture me
+till I cry--though indeed I have been crying half through the
+night. And then if you want to be VERY horrid you may tease me
+for being so slow to see a joke. And then you might take me to
+see some of the Colleges and things before we go on to lunch at
+The MacQuern's? Forgive pencil and scrawl. Am sitting up in bed
+to write.-- Your sincere friend, "Z. D. "P.S.--Please burn
+this."</p>
+
+<p>At that final injunction, the Duke abandoned himself to his
+mirth. "Please burn this." Poor dear young woman, how modest she
+was in the glare of her diplomacy! Why there was nothing, not one
+phrase, to compromise her in the eyes of a coroner's jury! . . .
+Seriously, she had good reason to be proud of her letter. For the
+purpose in view it couldn't have been better done. That was what
+made it so touchingly absurd. He put himself in her position. He
+pictured himself as her, "sitting up in bed," pencil in hand, to
+explain away, to soothe, to clinch and bind . . . Yes, if he had
+happened to be some other man-- one whom her insult might have
+angered without giving love its death-blow, and one who could be
+frightened out of not keeping his word--this letter would have
+been capital.</p>
+
+<p>He helped himself to some more marmalade, and poured out
+another cup of coffee. Nothing is more thrilling, thought he,
+than to be treated as a cully by the person you hold in the
+hollow of your hand.</p>
+
+<p>But within this great irony lay (to be glided over) another
+irony. He knew well in what mood Zuleika had done what she had
+done to him last night; yet he preferred to accept her
+explanation of it.</p>
+
+<p>Officially, then, he acquitted her of anything worse than
+tomboyishness. But this verdict for his own convenience implied
+no mercy to the culprit. The sole point for him was how to
+administer her punishment the most poignantly. Just how should he
+word his letter?</p>
+
+<p>He rose from his chair, and "Dear Miss Dobson--no, MY dear
+Miss Dobson," he murmured, pacing the room, "I am so very sorry I
+cannot come to see you: I have to attend two lectures this
+morning. By contrast with this weariness, it will be the more
+delightful to meet you at The MacQuern's. I want to see as much
+as I can of you to-day, because to-night there is the Bump
+Supper, and to-morrow morning, alas! I must motor to Windsor for
+this wretched Investiture. Meanwhile, how can you ask to be
+forgiven when there is nothing whatever to forgive? It seems to
+me that mine, not yours, is the form of humour that needs
+explanation. My proposal to die for you was made in as playful a
+spirit as my proposal to marry you. And it is really for me to
+ask forgiveness of you. One thing especially," he murmured,
+fingering in his waistcoat-pocket the ear-rings she had given
+him, "pricks my conscience. I do feel that I ought not to have
+let you give me these two pearls--at any rate, not the one which
+went into premature mourning for me. As I have no means of
+deciding which of the two this one is, I enclose them both, with
+the hope that the pretty difference between them will in time
+reappear" . . . Or words to that effect . . . Stay! why not add
+to the joy of contriving that effect the greater joy of watching
+it? Why send Zuleika a letter? He would obey her summons. He
+would speed to her side. He snatched up a hat.</p>
+
+<p>In this haste, however, he detected a certain lack of dignity.
+He steadied himself, and went slowly to the mirror. There he
+adjusted his hat with care, and regarded himself very seriously,
+very sternly, from various angles, like a man invited to paint
+his own portrait for the Uffizi. He must be worthy of himself. It
+was well that Zuleika should be chastened. Great was her sin. Out
+of life and death she had fashioned toys for her vanity. But his
+joy must be in vindication of what was noble, not in making
+suffer what was vile. Yesterday he had been her puppet, her
+Jumping-Jack; to-day it was as avenging angel that he would
+appear before her. The gods had mocked him who was now their
+minister. Their minister? Their master, as being once more master
+of himself. It was they who had plotted his undoing. Because they
+loved him they were fain that he should die young. The Dobson
+woman was but their agent, their cat's-paw. By her they had all
+but got him. Not quite! And now, to teach them, through her, a
+lesson they would not soon forget, he would go forth.</p>
+
+<p>Shaking with laughter, the gods leaned over the thunder-clouds
+to watch him.</p>
+
+<p>He went forth.</p>
+
+<p>On the well-whitened doorstep he was confronted by a small boy
+in uniform bearing a telegram.</p>
+
+<p>"Duke of Dorset?" asked the small boy.</p>
+
+<p>Opening the envelope, the Duke saw that the message, with
+which was a prepaid form for reply, had been handed in at the
+Tankerton post- office. It ran thus:</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>Deeply regret inform your grace last night two black owls came
+and perched on battlements remained there through night hooting
+at dawn flew away none knows whither awaiting instructions</p>
+
+<p>Jellings</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>The Duke's face, though it grew white, moved not one muscle.
+Somewhat shamed now, the gods ceased from laughing. The Duke
+looked from the telegram to the boy. "Have you a pencil?" he
+asked. "Yes, my Lord," said the boy, producing a stump of pencil.
+Holding the prepaid form against the door, the Duke wrote:</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>Jellings Tankerton Hall</p>
+
+<p>Prepare vault for funeral Monday</p>
+
+<p>Dorset</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>His handwriting was as firmly and minutely beautiful as ever.
+Only in that he forgot there was nothing to pay did he belie his
+calm. "Here," he said to the boy, "is a shilling; and you may
+keep the change."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you, my Lord," said the boy, and went his way, as happy
+as a postman.</p>
+
+<p>�</p>
+
+<h3>XV</h3>
+
+<p>Humphrey Greddon, in the Duke's place, would have taken a
+pinch of snuff. But he could not have made that gesture with a
+finer air than the Duke gave to its modern equivalent. In the art
+of taking and lighting a cigarette, there was one man who had no
+rival in Europe. This time he outdid even himself.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah," you say, "but 'pluck' is one thing, endurance another. A
+man who doesn't reel on receipt of his death-warrant may yet
+break down when he has had time to think it over. How did the
+Duke acquit himself when he came to the end of his cigarette? And
+by the way, how was it that after he had read the telegram you
+didn't give him again an hour's grace?"</p>
+
+<p>In a way, you have a perfect right to ask both those
+questions. But their very pertinence shows that you think I might
+omit things that matter. Please don't interrupt me again. Am _I_
+writing this history, or are you?</p>
+
+<p>Though the news that he must die was a yet sharper douche, as
+you have suggested, than the douche inflicted by Zuleika, it did
+at least leave unscathed the Duke's pride. The gods can make a
+man ridiculous through a woman, but they cannot make him
+ridiculous when they deal him a blow direct. The very greatness
+of their power makes them, in that respect, impotent. They had
+decreed that the Duke should die, and they had told him so. There
+was nothing to demean him in that. True, he had just measured
+himself against them. But there was no shame in being gravelled.
+The peripety was according to the best rules of tragic art. The
+whole thing was in the grand manner.</p>
+
+<p>Thus I felt that there were no indelicacy, this time, in
+watching him. Just as "pluck" comes of breeding, so is endurance
+especially an attribute of the artist. Because he can stand
+outside himself, and (if there be nothing ignoble in them) take a
+pleasure in his own sufferings, the artist has a huge advantage
+over you and me. The Duke, so soon as Zuleika's spell was broken,
+had become himself again--a highly self-conscious artist in life.
+And now, standing pensive on the doorstep, he was almost enviable
+in his great affliction.</p>
+
+<p>Through the wreaths of smoke which, as they came from his
+lips, hung in the sultry air as they would have hung in a closed
+room, he gazed up at the steadfast thunder-clouds. How nobly they
+had been massed for him! One of them, a particularly large and
+dark one, might with advantage, he thought, have been placed a
+little further to the left. He made a gesture to that effect.
+Instantly the cloud rolled into position. The gods were painfully
+anxious, now, to humour him in trifles. His behaviour in the
+great emergency had so impressed them at a distance that they
+rather dreaded meeting him anon at close quarters. They rather
+wished they had not uncaged, last night, the two black owls. Too
+late. What they had done they had done.</p>
+
+<p>That faint monotonous sound in the stillness of the night--the
+Duke remembered it now. What he had thought to be only his fancy
+had been his death-knell, wafted to him along uncharted waves of
+ether, from the battlements of Tankerton. It had ceased at
+daybreak. He wondered now that he had not guessed its meaning.
+And he was glad that he had not. He was thankful for the peace
+that had been granted to him, the joyous arrogance in which he
+had gone to bed and got up for breakfast. He valued these mercies
+the more for the great tragic irony that came of them. Aye, and
+he was inclined to blame the gods for not having kept him still
+longer in the dark and so made the irony still more awful. Why
+had they not caused the telegram to be delayed in transmission?
+They ought to have let him go and riddle Zuleika with his scorn
+and his indifference. They ought to have let him hurl through her
+his defiance of them. Art aside, they need not have grudged him
+that excursion.</p>
+
+<p>He could not, he told himself, face Zuleika now. As artist, he
+saw that there was irony enough left over to make the meeting a
+fine one. As theologian, he did not hold her responsible for his
+destiny. But as a man, after what she had done to him last night,
+and before what he had to do for her to-day, he would not go out
+of his way to meet her. Of course, he would not actually avoid
+her. To seem to run away from her were beneath his dignity. But,
+if he did meet her, what in heaven's name should he say to her?
+He remembered his promise to lunch with The MacQuern, and
+shuddered. She would be there. Death, as he had said, cancelled
+all engagements. A very simple way out of the difficulty would be
+to go straight to the river. No, that would be like running away.
+It couldn't be done.</p>
+
+<p>Hardly had he rejected the notion when he had a glimpse of a
+female figure coming quickly round the corner--a glimpse that
+sent him walking quickly away, across the road, towards Turl
+Street, blushing violently. Had she seen him? he asked himself.
+And had she seen that he saw her? He heard her running after him.
+He did not look round, he quickened his pace. She was gaining on
+him. Involuntarily, he ran--ran like a hare, and, at the corner
+of Turl Street, rose like a trout, saw the pavement rise at him,
+and fell, with a bang, prone.</p>
+
+<p>Let it be said at once that in this matter the gods were
+absolutely blameless. It is true they had decreed that a piece of
+orange-peel should be thrown down this morning at the corner of
+Turl Street. But the Master of Balliol, not the Duke, was the
+person they had destined to slip on it. You must not imagine that
+they think out and appoint everything that is to befall us, down
+to the smallest detail. Generally, they just draw a sort of broad
+outline, and leave us to fill it in according to our taste. Thus,
+in the matters of which this book is record, it was they who made
+the Warden invite his grand- daughter to Oxford, and invite the
+Duke to meet her on the evening of her arrival. And it was they
+who prompted the Duke to die for her on the following (Tuesday)
+afternoon. They had intended that he should execute his resolve
+after, or before, the boat-race of that evening. But an oversight
+upset this plan. They had forgotten on Monday night to uncage the
+two black owls; and so it was necessary that the Duke's death
+should be postponed. They accordingly prompted Zuleika to save
+him. For the rest, they let the tragedy run its own
+course--merely putting in a felicitous touch here and there, or
+vetoing a superfluity, such as that Katie should open Zuleika's
+letter. It was no part of their scheme that the Duke should
+mistake Melisande for her mistress, or that he should run away
+from her, and they were genuinely sorry when he, instead of the
+Master of Balliol, came to grief over the orange-peel.</p>
+
+<p>Them, however, the Duke cursed as he fell; them again as he
+raised himself on one elbow, giddy and sore; and when he found
+that the woman bending over him was not she whom he dreaded, but
+her innocent maid, it was against them that he almost foamed at
+the mouth.</p>
+
+<p>"Monsieur le Duc has done himself harm--no?" panted Melisande.
+"Here is a letter from Miss Dobson's part. She say to me 'Give it
+him with your own hand.'"</p>
+
+<p>The Duke received the letter and, sitting upright, tore it to
+shreds, thus confirming a suspicion which Melisande had conceived
+at the moment when he took to his heels, that all English
+noblemen are mad, but mad, and of a madness.</p>
+
+<p>"Nom de Dieu," she cried, wringing her hands, "what shall I
+tell to Mademoiselle?"</p>
+
+<p>"Tell her--" the Duke choked back a phrase of which the memory
+would have shamed his last hours. "Tell her," he substituted,
+"that you have seen Marius sitting among the ruins of Carthage,"
+and limped quickly away down the Turl.</p>
+
+<p>Both his hands had been abraded by the fall. He tended them
+angrily with his handkerchief. Mr. Druce, the chemist, had anon
+the privilege of bathing and plastering them, also of balming and
+binding the right knee and the left shin. "Might have been a very
+nasty accident, your Grace," he said. "It was," said the Duke.
+Mr. Druce concurred.</p>
+
+<p>Nevertheless, Mr. Druce's remark sank deep. The Duke thought
+it quite likely that the gods had intended the accident to be
+fatal, and that only by his own skill and lightness in falling
+had he escaped the ignominy of dying in full flight from a
+lady's-maid. He had not, you see, lost all sense of free-will.
+While Mr. Druce put the finishing touches to his shin, "I am
+utterly purposed," he said to himself, "that for this death of
+mine I will choose my own manner and my own --well, not 'time'
+exactly, but whatever moment within my brief span of life shall
+seem aptest to me. Unberufen," he added, lightly tapping Mr.
+Druce's counter.</p>
+
+<p>The sight of some bottles of Cold Mixture on that hospitable
+board reminded him of a painful fact. In the clash of the
+morning's excitements, he had hardly felt the gross ailment that
+was on him. He became fully conscious of it now, and there leapt
+in him a hideous doubt: had he escaped a violent death only to
+succumb to "natural causes"? He had never hitherto had anything
+the matter with him, and thus he belonged to the worst, the most
+apprehensive, class of patients. He knew that a cold, were it
+neglected, might turn malignant; and he had a vision of himself
+gripped suddenly in the street by internal agonies--a sympathetic
+crowd, an ambulance, his darkened bedroom; local doctor making
+hopelessly wrong diagnosis; eminent specialists served up hot by
+special train, commending local doctor's treatment, but shaking
+their heads and refusing to say more than "He has youth on his
+side"; a slight rally at sunset; the end. All this flashed
+through his mind. He quailed. There was not a moment to lose. He
+frankly confessed to Mr. Druce that he had a cold.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Druce, trying to insinuate by his manner that this fact
+had not been obvious, suggested the Mixture--a teaspoonful every
+two hours. "Give me some now, please, at once," said the
+Duke.</p>
+
+<p>He felt magically better for the draught. He handled the
+little glass lovingly, and eyed the bottle. "Why not two
+teaspoonfuls every hour?" he suggested, with an eagerness almost
+dipsomaniacal. But Mr. Druce was respectfully firm against that.
+The Duke yielded. He fancied, indeed, that the gods had meant him
+to die of an overdose.</p>
+
+<p>Still, he had a craving for more. Few though his hours were,
+he hoped the next two would pass quickly. And, though he knew Mr.
+Druce could be trusted to send the bottle round to his rooms
+immediately, he preferred to carry it away with him. He slipped
+it into the breast- pocket of his coat, almost heedless of the
+slight extrusion it made there.</p>
+
+<p>Just as he was about to cross the High again, on his way home,
+a butcher's cart dashed down the slope, recklessly driven. He
+stepped well back on the pavement, and smiled a sardonic smile.
+He looked to right and to left, carefully gauging the traffic.
+Some time elapsed before he deemed the road clear enough for
+transit.</p>
+
+<p>Safely across, he encountered a figure that seemed to loom up
+out of the dim past. Oover! Was it but yesternight that Oover
+dined with him? With the sensation of a man groping among
+archives, he began to apologise to the Rhodes Scholar for having
+left him so abruptly at the Junta. Then, presto!--as though those
+musty archives were changed to a crisp morning paper agog with
+terrific head-lines--he remembered the awful resolve of Oover,
+and of all young Oxford.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course," he asked, with a lightness that hardly hid his
+dread of the answer, "you have dismissed the notion you were
+toying with when I left you?"</p>
+
+<p>Oover's face, like his nature, was as sensitive as it was
+massive, and it instantly expressed his pain at the doubt cast on
+his high seriousness. "Duke," he asked, "d'you take me for a
+skunk?"</p>
+
+<p>"Without pretending to be quite sure what a skunk is," said
+the Duke, "I take you to be all that it isn't. And the high
+esteem in which I hold you is the measure for me of the loss that
+your death would be to America and to Oxford."</p>
+
+<p>Oover blushed. "Duke" he said "that's a bully testimonial. But
+don't worry. America can turn out millions just like me, and
+Oxford can have as many of them as she can hold. On the other
+hand, how many of YOU can be turned out, as per sample, in
+England? Yet you choose to destroy yourself. You avail yourself
+of the Unwritten Law. And you're right, Sir. Love transcends
+all."</p>
+
+<p>"But does it? What if I told you I had changed my mind?"</p>
+
+<p>"Then, Duke," said Oover, slowly, "I should believe that all
+those yarns I used to hear about the British aristocracy were
+true, after all. I should aver that you were not a white man.
+Leading us on like that, and then--Say, Duke! Are you going to
+die to-day, or not?"</p>
+
+<p>"As a matter of fact, I am, but--"</p>
+
+<p>"Shake!"</p>
+
+<p>"But--"</p>
+
+<p>Oover wrung the Duke's hand, and was passing on. "Stay!" he
+was adjured.</p>
+
+<p>"Sorry, unable. It's just turning eleven o'clock, and I've a
+lecture. While life lasts, I'm bound to respect Rhodes'
+intentions." The conscientious Scholar hurried away.</p>
+
+<p>The Duke wandered down the High, taking counsel with himself.
+He was ashamed of having so utterly forgotten the mischief he had
+wrought at large. At dawn he had vowed to undo it. Undo it he
+must. But the task was not a simple one now. If he could say
+"Behold, I take back my word. I spurn Miss Dobson, and embrace
+life," it was possible that his example would suffice. But now
+that he could only say "Behold, I spurn Miss Dobson, and will not
+die for her, but I am going to commit suicide, all the same," it
+was clear that his words would carry very little force. Also, he
+saw with pain that they placed him in a somewhat ludicrous
+position. His end, as designed yesterday, had a large and simple
+grandeur. So had his recantation of it. But this new compromise
+between the two things had a fumbled, a feeble, an ignoble look.
+It seemed to combine all the disadvantages of both courses. It
+stained his honour without prolonging his life. Surely, this was
+a high price to pay for snubbing Zuleika . . . Yes, he must
+revert without more ado to his first scheme. He must die in the
+manner that he had blazoned forth. And he must do it with a good
+grace, none knowing he was not glad; else the action lost all
+dignity. True, this was no way to be a saviour. But only by not
+dying at all could he have set a really potent example. . . . He
+remembered the look that had come into Oover's eyes just now at
+the notion of his unfaith. Perhaps he would have been the mock,
+not the saviour, of Oxford. Better dishonour than death, maybe.
+But, since die he must, he must die not belittling or tarnishing
+the name of Tanville-Tankerton.</p>
+
+<p>Within these bounds, however, he must put forth his full might
+to avert the general catastrophe--and to punish Zuleika nearly
+well enough, after all, by intercepting that vast nosegay from
+her outstretched hands and her distended nostrils. There was no
+time to be lost, then. But he wondered, as he paced the grand
+curve between St. Mary's and Magdalen Bridge, just how was he to
+begin?</p>
+
+<p>Down the flight of steps from Queen's came lounging an average
+undergraduate.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Smith," said the Duke, "a word with you."</p>
+
+<p>"But my name is not Smith," said the young man.</p>
+
+<p>"Generically it is," replied the Duke. "You are Smith to all
+intents and purposes. That, indeed, is why I address you. In
+making your acquaintance, I make a thousand acquaintances. You
+are a short cut to knowledge. Tell me, do you seriously think of
+drowning yourself this afternoon?"</p>
+
+<p>"Rather," said the undergraduate.</p>
+
+<p>"A meiosis in common use, equivalent to 'Yes, assuredly,'"
+murmured the Duke. "And why," he then asked, "do you mean to do
+this?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why? How can you ask? Why are YOU going to do it?"</p>
+
+<p>"The Socratic manner is not a game at which two can play.
+Please answer my question, to the best of your ability."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, because I can't live without her. Because I want to
+prove my love for her. Because--"</p>
+
+<p>"One reason at a time please," said the Duke, holding up his
+hand. "You can't live without her? Then I am to assume that you
+look forward to dying?"</p>
+
+<p>"Rather."</p>
+
+<p>"You are truly happy in that prospect?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. Rather."</p>
+
+<p>"Now, suppose I showed you two pieces of equally fine amber--a
+big one and a little one. Which of these would you rather
+possess?"</p>
+
+<p>"The big one, I suppose."</p>
+
+<p>"And this because it is better to have more than to have less
+of a good thing?"</p>
+
+<p>"Just so."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you consider happiness a good thing or a bad one?"</p>
+
+<p>"A good one."</p>
+
+<p>"So that a man would rather have more than less of
+happiness?"</p>
+
+<p>"Undoubtedly."</p>
+
+<p>"Then does it not seem to you that you would do well to
+postpone your suicide indefinitely?"</p>
+
+<p>"But I have just said I can't live without her."</p>
+
+<p>"You have still more recently declared yourself truly
+happy."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, but--"</p>
+
+<p>"Now, be careful, Mr. Smith. Remember, this is a matter of
+life and death. Try to do yourself justice. I have asked
+you--"</p>
+
+<p>But the undergraduate was walking away, not without a certain
+dignity.</p>
+
+<p>The Duke felt that he had not handled his man skilfully. He
+remembered that even Socrates, for all the popular charm of his
+mock-modesty and his true geniality, had ceased after a while to
+be tolerable. Without such a manner to grace his method, Socrates
+would have had a very brief time indeed. The Duke recoiled from
+what he took to be another pitfall. He almost smelt hemlock.</p>
+
+<p>A party of four undergraduates abreast was approaching. How
+should he address them? His choice wavered between the evangelic
+wistfulness of "Are you saved?" and the breeziness of the
+recruiting sergeant's "Come, you're fine upstanding young
+fellows. Isn't it a pity," etc. Meanwhile, the quartet had passed
+by.</p>
+
+<p>Two other undergraduates approached. The Duke asked them
+simply as a personal favour to himself not to throw away their
+lives. They said they were very sorry, but in this particular
+matter they must please themselves. In vain he pled. They
+admitted that but for his example they would never have thought
+of dying. They wished they could show him their gratitude in any
+way but the one which would rob them of it.</p>
+
+<p>The Duke drifted further down the High, bespeaking every
+undergraduate he met, leaving untried no argument, no inducement.
+For one man, whose name he happened to know, he invented an
+urgent personal message from Miss Dobson imploring him not to die
+on her account. On another man he offered to settle by hasty
+codicil a sum of money sufficient to yield an annual income of
+two thousand pounds--three thousand--any sum within reason. With
+another he offered to walk, arm in arm, to Carfax and back again.
+All to no avail.</p>
+
+<p>He found himself in the precincts of Magdalen, preaching from
+the little open-air pulpit there an impassioned sermon on the
+sacredness of human life, and referring to Zuleika in terms which
+John Knox would have hesitated to utter. As he piled up the
+invective, he noticed an ominous restiveness in the
+congregation--murmurs, clenching of hands, dark looks. He saw the
+pulpit as yet another trap laid for him by the gods. He had
+walked straight into it: another moment, and he might be dragged
+down, overwhelmed by numbers, torn limb from limb. All that was
+in him of quelling power he put hastily into his eyes, and
+manoeuvred his tongue to gentler discourse, deprecating his right
+to judge "this lady," and merely pointing the marvel, the awful
+though noble folly, of his resolve. He ended on a note of quiet
+pathos. "To- night I shall be among the shades. There be not you,
+my brothers."</p>
+
+<p>Good though the sermon was in style and sentiment, the flaw in
+its reasoning was too patent for any converts to be made. As he
+walked out of the quadrangle, the Duke felt the hopelessness of
+his cause. Still he battled bravely for it up the High,
+waylaying, cajoling, commanding, offering vast bribes. He carried
+his crusade into the Loder, and thence into Vincent's, and out
+into the street again, eager, untiring, unavailing: everywhere he
+found his precept checkmated by his example.</p>
+
+<p>The sight of The MacQuern coming out top-speed from the
+Market, with a large but inexpensive bunch of flowers, reminded
+him of the luncheon that was to be. Never to throw over an
+engagement was for him, as we have seen, a point of honour. But
+this particular engagement--hateful, when he accepted it, by
+reason of his love--was now impossible for the reason which had
+made him take so ignominiously to his heels this morning. He
+curtly told the Scot not to expect him.</p>
+
+<p>"Is SHE not coming?" gasped the Scot, with quick
+suspicion.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," said the Duke, turning on his heel, "she doesn't know
+that I shan't be there. You may count on her." This he took to be
+the very truth, and he was glad to have made of it a thrust at
+the man who had so uncouthly asserted himself last night. He
+could not help smiling, though, at this little resentment erect
+after the cataclysm that had swept away all else. Then he smiled
+to think how uneasy Zuleika would be at his absence. What agonies
+of suspense she must have had all this morning! He imagined her
+silent at the luncheon, with a vacant gaze at the door, eating
+nothing at all. And he became aware that he was rather hungry. He
+had done all he could to save young Oxford. Now for some
+sandwiches! He went into the Junta.</p>
+
+<p>As he rang the dining-room bell, his eyes rested on the
+miniature of Nellie O'Mora. And the eyes of Nellie O'Mora seemed
+to meet his in reproach. Just as she may have gazed at Greddon
+when he cast her off, so now did she gaze at him who a few hours
+ago had refused to honour her memory.</p>
+
+<p>Yes, and many other eyes than hers rebuked him. It was around
+the walls of this room that hung those presentments of the Junta
+as focussed, year after year, in a certain corner of Tom Quad, by
+Messrs. Hills and Saunders. All around, the members of the little
+hierarchy, a hierarchy ever changing in all but youth and a
+certain sternness of aspect that comes at the moment of being
+immortalised, were gazing forth now with a sternness beyond their
+wont. Not one of them but had in his day handed on loyally the
+praise of Nellie O'Mora, in the form their Founder had ordained.
+And the Duke's revolt last night had so incensed them that they
+would, if they could, have come down from their frames and walked
+straight out of the club, in chronological order--first, the men
+of the 'sixties, almost as near in time to Greddon as to the
+Duke, all so gloriously be-whiskered and cravated, but how faded
+now, alas, by exposure; and last of all in the procession and
+angrier perhaps than any of them, the Duke himself --the Duke of
+a year ago, President and sole Member.</p>
+
+<p>But, as he gazed into the eyes of Nellie O'Mora now, Dorset
+needed not for penitence the reproaches of his past self or of
+his forerunners. "Sweet girl," he murmured, "forgive me. I was
+mad. I was under the sway of a deplorable infatuation. It is
+past. See," he murmured with a delicacy of feeling that justified
+the untruth, "I am come here for the express purpose of undoing
+my impiety." And, turning to the club- waiter who at this moment
+answered the bell, he said "Bring me a glass of port, please,
+Barrett." Of sandwiches he said nothing.</p>
+
+<p>At the word "See" he had stretched one hand towards Nellie;
+the other he had laid on his heart, where it seemed to encounter
+some sort of hard obstruction. This he vaguely fingered,
+wondering what it might be, while he gave his order to Barrett.
+With a sudden cry he dipped his hand into his breast-pocket and
+drew forth the bottle he had borne away from Mr. Druce's. He
+snatched out his watch: one o'clock!-- fifteen minutes overdue.
+Wildly he called the waiter back. "A tea- spoon, quick! No port.
+A wine-glass and a tea-spoon. And--for I don't mind telling you,
+Barrett, that your mission is of an urgency beyond
+conjecture--take lightning for your model. Go!"</p>
+
+<p>Agitation mastered him. He tried vainly to feel his pulse,
+well knowing that if he found it he could deduce nothing from its
+action. He saw himself haggard in the looking-glass. Would
+Barrett never come? "Every two hours"--the directions were
+explicit. Had he delivered himself into the gods' hands? The eyes
+of Nellie O'Mora were on him compassionately; and all the eyes of
+his forerunners were on him in austere scorn: "See," they seemed
+to be saying, "the chastisement of last night's blasphemy."
+Violently, insistently, he rang the bell.</p>
+
+<p>In rushed Barrett at last. From the tea-spoon into the
+wine-glass the Duke poured the draught of salvation, and then,
+raising it aloft, he looked around at his fore-runners and in a
+firm voice cried "Gentlemen, I give you Nellie O'Mora, the
+fairest witch that ever was or will be." He drained his glass,
+heaved the deep sigh of a double satisfaction, dismissed with a
+glance the wondering Barrett, and sat down.</p>
+
+<p>He was glad to be able to face Nellie with a clear conscience.
+Her eyes were not less sad now, but it seemed to him that their
+sadness came of a knowledge that she would never see him again.
+She seemed to be saying to him "Had you lived in my day, it is
+you that I would have loved, not Greddon." And he made silent
+answer, "Had you lived in my day, I should have been
+Dobson-proof." He realised, however, that to Zuleika he owed the
+tenderness he now felt for Miss O'Mora. It was Zuleika that had
+cured him of his aseity. She it was that had made his heart a
+warm and negotiable thing. Yes, and that was the final cruelty.
+To love and be loved--this, he had come to know, was all that
+mattered. Yesterday, to love and die had seemed felicity enough.
+Now he knew that the secret, the open secret, of happiness was in
+mutual love--a state that needed not the fillip of death. And he
+had to die without having ever lived. Admiration, homage, fear,
+he had sown broadcast. The one woman who had loved him had turned
+to stone because he loved her. Death would lose much of its sting
+for him if there were somewhere in the world just one woman,
+however lowly, whose heart would be broken by his dying. What a
+pity Nellie O'Mora was not really extant!</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly he recalled certain words lightly spoken yesterday by
+Zuleika. She had told him he was loved by the girl who waited on
+him--the daughter of his landlady. Was this so? He had seen no
+sign of it, had received no token of it. But, after all, how
+should he have seen a sign of anything in one whom he had never
+consciously visualised? That she had never thrust herself on his
+notice might mean merely that she had been well brought-up. What
+likelier than that the daughter of Mrs. Batch, that worthy soul,
+had been well brought up?</p>
+
+<p>Here, at any rate, was the chance of a new element in his
+life, or rather in his death. Here, possibly, was a maiden to
+mourn him. He would lunch in his rooms.</p>
+
+<p>With a farewell look at Nellie's miniature, he took the
+medicine- bottle from the table, and went quickly out. The
+heavens had grown steadily darker and darker, the air more
+sulphurous and baleful. And the High had a strangely woebegone
+look, being all forsaken by youth, in this hour of luncheon. Even
+so would its look be all to-morrow, thought the Duke, and for
+many morrows. Well he had done what he could. He was free now to
+brighten a little his own last hours. He hastened on, eager to
+see the landlady's daughter. He wondered what she was like, and
+whether she really loved him.</p>
+
+<p>As he threw open the door of his sitting-room, he was aware of
+a rustle, a rush, a cry. In another instant, he was aware of
+Zuleika Dobson at his feet, at his knees, clasping him to her,
+sobbing, laughing, sobbing.</p>
+
+<p>�</p>
+
+<h3>XVI</h3>
+
+<p>For what happened a few moments later you must not blame him.
+Some measure of force was the only way out of an impossible
+situation. It was in vain that he commanded the young lady to let
+go: she did but cling the closer. It was in vain that he tried to
+disentangle himself of her by standing first on one foot, then on
+the other, and veering sharply on his heel: she did but sway as
+though hinged to him. He had no choice but to grasp her by the
+wrists, cast her aside, and step clear of her into the room.</p>
+
+<p>Her hat, gauzily basking with a pair of long white gloves on
+one of his arm-chairs, proclaimed that she had come to stay.</p>
+
+<p>Nor did she rise. Propped on one elbow, with heaving bosom and
+parted lips, she seemed to be trying to realise what had been
+done to her. Through her undried tears her eyes shone up to
+him.</p>
+
+<p>He asked: "To what am I indebted for this visit?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, say that again!" she murmured. "Your voice is music."</p>
+
+<p>He repeated his question.</p>
+
+<p>"Music!" she said dreamily; and such is the force of habit
+that "I don't," she added, "know anything about music, really.
+But I know what I like."</p>
+
+<p>"Had you not better get up from the floor?" he said. "The door
+is open, and any one who passed might see you."</p>
+
+<p>Softly she stroked the carpet with the palms of her hands.
+"Happy carpet!" she crooned. "Aye, happy the very women that wove
+the threads that are trod by the feet of my beloved master. But
+hark! he bids his slave rise and stand before him!"</p>
+
+<p>Just after she had risen, a figure appeared in the
+doorway.</p>
+
+<p>"I beg pardon, your Grace; Mother wants to know, will you be
+lunching in?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said the Duke. "I will ring when I am ready." And it
+dawned on him that this girl, who perhaps loved him, was,
+according to all known standards, extraordinarily pretty.</p>
+
+<p>"Will--" she hesitated, "will Miss Dobson be--"</p>
+
+<p>"No," he said. "I shall be alone." And there was in the girl's
+parting half-glance at Zuleika that which told him he was truly
+loved, and made him the more impatient of his offensive and
+accursed visitor.</p>
+
+<p>"You want to be rid of me?" asked Zuleika, when the girl was
+gone.</p>
+
+<p>"I have no wish to be rude; but--since you force me to say
+it--yes."</p>
+
+<p>"Then take me," she cried, throwing back her arms, "and throw
+me out of the window."</p>
+
+<p>He smiled coldly.</p>
+
+<p>"You think I don't mean it? You think I would struggle? Try
+me." She let herself droop sideways, in an attitude limp and
+portable. "Try me," she repeated.</p>
+
+<p>"All this is very well conceived, no doubt," said he, "and
+well executed. But it happens to be otiose."</p>
+
+<p>What do you mean?"</p>
+
+<p>"I mean you may set your mind at rest. I am not going to back
+out of my promise."</p>
+
+<p>Zuleika flushed. "You are cruel. I would give the world and
+all not to have written you that hateful letter. Forget it,
+forget it, for pity's sake!"</p>
+
+<p>The Duke looked searchingly at her. "You mean that you now
+wish to release me from my promise?"</p>
+
+<p>"Release you? As if you were ever bound! Don't torture
+me!"</p>
+
+<p>He wondered what deep game she was playing. Very real, though,
+her anguish seemed; and, if real it was, then--he stared, he
+gasped--there could be but one explanation. He put it to her.
+"You love me?"</p>
+
+<p>"With all my soul."</p>
+
+<p>His heart leapt. If she spoke truth, then indeed vengeance was
+his! But "What proof have I?" he asked her.</p>
+
+<p>"Proof? Have men absolutely NO intuition? If you need proof,
+produce it. Where are my ear-rings?"</p>
+
+<p>"Your ear-rings? Why?"</p>
+
+<p>Impatiently she pointed to two white pearls that fastened the
+front of her blouse. "These are your studs. It was from them I
+had the great first hint this morning."</p>
+
+<p>"Black and pink, were they not, when you took them?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course. And then I forgot that I had them. When I
+undressed, they must have rolled on to the carpet. Melisande
+found them this morning when she was making the room ready for me
+to dress. That was just after she came back from bringing you my
+first letter. I was bewildered. I doubted. Might not the pearls
+have gone back to their natural state simply through being yours
+no more? That is why I wrote again to you, my own darling--a
+frantic little questioning letter. When I heard how you had torn
+it up, I knew, I knew that the pearls had not mocked me. I
+telescoped my toilet and came rushing round to you. How many
+hours have I been waiting for you?"</p>
+
+<p>The Duke had drawn her ear-rings from his waistcoat pocket,
+and was contemplating them in the palm of his hand. Blanched,
+both of them, yes. He laid them on the table. "Take them," he
+said.</p>
+
+<p>"No," she shuddered. "I could never forget that once they were
+both black." She flung them into the fender. "Oh John," she
+cried, turning to him and falling again to her knees, "I do so
+want to forget what I have been. I want to atone. You think you
+can drive me out of your life. You cannot, darling--since you
+won't kill me. Always I shall follow you on my knees, thus."</p>
+
+<p>He looked down at her over his folded arms,</p>
+
+<p>"I am not going to back out of my promise," he repeated.</p>
+
+<p>She stopped her ears.</p>
+
+<p>With a stern joy he unfolded his arms, took some papers from
+his breast-pocket, and, selecting one of them, handed it to her.
+It was the telegram sent by his steward.</p>
+
+<p>She read it. With a stern joy he watched her reading it.</p>
+
+<p>Wild-eyed, she looked up from it to him, tried to speak, and
+swerved down senseless.</p>
+
+<p>He had not foreseen this. "Help!" he vaguely cried--was she
+not a fellow-creature?--and rushed blindly out to his bedroom,
+whence he returned, a moment later, with the water-jug. He dipped
+his hand, and sprinkled the upturned face (Dew-drops on a white
+rose? But some other, sharper analogy hovered to him). He dipped
+and sprinkled. The water-beads broke, mingled--rivulets now. He
+dipped and flung, then caught the horrible analogy and
+rebounded.</p>
+
+<p>It was at this moment that Zuleika opened her eyes. "Where am
+I?" She weakly raised herself on one elbow; and the suspension of
+the Duke's hatred would have been repealed simultaneously with
+that of her consciousness, had it not already been repealed by
+the analogy. She put a hand to her face, then looked at the wet
+palm wonderingly, looked at the Duke, saw the water-jug beside
+him. She, too, it seemed, had caught the analogy; for with a wan
+smile she said "We are quits now, John, aren't we?"</p>
+
+<p>Her poor little jest drew to the Duke's face no answering
+smile, did but make hotter the blush there. The wave of her
+returning memory swept on--swept up to her with a roar the
+instant past. "Oh," she cried, staggering to her feet, "the owls,
+the owls!"</p>
+
+<p>Vengeance was his, and "Yes, there," he said, "is the
+ineluctable hard fact you wake to. The owls have hooted. The gods
+have spoken. This day your wish is to be fulfilled."</p>
+
+<p>"The owls have hooted. The gods have spoken. This day--oh, it
+must not be, John! Heaven have mercy on me!"</p>
+
+<p>"The unerring owls have hooted. The dispiteous and humorous
+gods have spoken. Miss Dobson, it has to be. And let me remind
+you," he added, with a glance at his watch, "that you ought not
+to keep The MacQuern waiting for luncheon."</p>
+
+<p>"That is unworthy of you," she said. There was in her eyes a
+look that made the words sound as if they had been spoken by a
+dumb animal.</p>
+
+<p>"You have sent him an excuse?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I have forgotten him."</p>
+
+<p>"That is unworthy of you. After all, he is going to die for
+you, like the rest of us. I am but one of a number, you know. Use
+your sense of proportion."</p>
+
+<p>"If I do that," she said after a pause, "you may not be
+pleased by the issue. I may find that whereas yesterday I was
+great in my sinfulness, and to-day am great in my love, you, in
+your hate of me, are small. I may find that what I had taken to
+be a great indifference is nothing but a very small hate . . .
+Ah, I have wounded you? Forgive me, a weak woman, talking at
+random in her wretchedness. Oh John, John, if I thought you
+small, my love would but take on the crown of pity. Don't forbid
+me to call you John. I looked you up in Debrett while I was
+waiting for you. That seemed to bring you nearer to me. So many
+other names you have, too. I remember you told me them all
+yesterday, here in this room--not twenty-four hours ago. Hours?
+Years!" She laughed hysterically. "John, don't you see why I
+won't stop talking? It's because I dare not think."</p>
+
+<p>"Yonder in Balliol," he suavely said, "you will find the
+matter of my death easier to forget than here." He took her hat
+and gloves from the arm-chair, and held them carefully out to
+her; but she did not take them.</p>
+
+<p>"I give you three minutes," he told her. "Two minutes, that
+is, in which to make yourself tidy before the mirror. A third in
+which to say good-bye and be outside the front-door."</p>
+
+<p>"If I refuse?"</p>
+
+<p>"You will not."</p>
+
+<p>"If I do?"</p>
+
+<p>"I shall send for a policeman."</p>
+
+<p>She looked well at him. "Yes," she slowly said, "I think you
+would do that."</p>
+
+<p>She took her things from him, and laid them by the mirror.
+With a high hand she quelled the excesses of her hair--some of
+the curls still agleam with water--and knowingly poised and
+pinned her hat. Then, after a few swift touches and passes at
+neck and waist, she took her gloves and, wheeling round to him,
+"There!" she said, "I have been quick."</p>
+
+<p>"Admirably," he allowed.</p>
+
+<p>"Quick in more than meets the eye, John. Spiritually quick.
+You saw me putting on my hat; you did not see love taking on the
+crown of pity, and me bonneting her with it, tripping her up and
+trampling the life out of her. Oh, a most cold-blooded business,
+John! Had to be done, though. No other way out. So I just used my
+sense of proportion, as you rashly bade me, and then hardened my
+heart at sight of you as you are. One of a number? Yes, and a
+quite unlovable unit. So I am all right again. And now, where is
+Balliol? Far from here?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," he answered, choking a little, as might a card-player
+who, having been dealt a splendid hand, and having played it with
+flawless skill, has yet--damn it!--lost the odd trick. "Balliol
+is quite near. At the end of this street in fact. I can show it
+to you from the front-door."</p>
+
+<p>Yes, he had controlled himself. But this, he furiously felt,
+did not make him look the less a fool. What ought he to have
+SAID? He prayed, as he followed the victorious young woman
+downstairs, that l'esprit de l'escalier might befall him. Alas,
+it did not.</p>
+
+<p>"By the way," she said, when he had shown her where Balliol
+lay, "have you told anybody that you aren't dying just for
+me?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," he answered, "I have preferred not to."</p>
+
+<p>"Then officially, as it were, and in the eyes of the world,
+you die for me? Then all's well that ends well. Shall we say
+good-bye here? I shall be on the Judas Barge; but I suppose there
+will be a crush, as yesterday?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sure to be. There always is on the last night of the Eights,
+you know. Good-bye."</p>
+
+<p>"Good-bye, little John--small John," she cried across her
+shoulder, having the last word.</p>
+
+<p>�</p>
+
+<h3>XVII</h3>
+
+<p>He might not have grudged her the last word, had she properly
+needed it. Its utter superfluity--the perfection of her victory
+without it-- was what galled him. Yes, she had outflanked him,
+taken him unawares, and he had fired not one shot. Esprit de
+l'escalier--it was as he went upstairs that he saw how he might
+yet have snatched from her, if not the victory, the palm. Of
+course he ought to have laughed aloud-- "Capital, capital! You
+really do deserve to fool me. But ah, yours is a love that can't
+be dissembled. Never was man by maiden loved more ardently than I
+by you, my poor girl, at this moment."</p>
+
+<p>And stay!--what if she really HAD been but pretending to have
+killed her love? He paused on the threshold of his room. The
+sudden doubt made his lost chance the more sickening. Yet was the
+doubt dear to him . . . What likelier, after all, than that she
+had been pretending? She had already twitted him with his lack of
+intuition. He had not seen that she loved him when she certainly
+did love him. He had needed the pearls' demonstration of
+that.--The pearls! THEY would betray her. He darted to the
+fender, and one of them he espied there instantly-- white? A
+rather flushed white, certainly. For the other he had to peer
+down. There it lay, not very distinct on the hearth's
+black-leading.</p>
+
+<p>He turned away. He blamed himself for not dismissing from his
+mind the hussy he had dismissed from his room. Oh for an ounce of
+civet and a few poppies! The water-jug stood as a reminder of the
+hateful visit and of . . . He took it hastily away into his
+bedroom. There he washed his hands. The fact that he had touched
+Zuleika gave to this ablution a symbolism that made it the more
+refreshing.</p>
+
+<p>Civet, poppies? Was there not, at his call, a sweeter perfume,
+a stronger anodyne? He rang the bell, almost caressingly.</p>
+
+<p>His heart beat at sound of the clinking and rattling of the
+tray borne up the stairs. She was coming, the girl who loved him,
+the girl whose heart would be broken when he died. Yet, when the
+tray appeared in the doorway, and she behind it, the tray took
+precedence of her in his soul not less than in his sight. Twice,
+after an arduous morning, had his luncheon been postponed, and
+the coming of it now made intolerable the pangs of his
+hunger.</p>
+
+<p>Also, while the girl laid the table-cloth, it occurred to him
+how flimsy, after all, was the evidence that she loved him.
+Suppose she did nothing of the kind! At the Junta, he had
+foreseen no difficulty in asking her. Now he found himself a prey
+to embarrassment. He wondered why. He had not failed in flow of
+gracious words to Nellie O'Mora. Well, a miniature by Hoppner was
+one thing, a landlady's live daughter was another. At any rate,
+he must prime himself with food. He wished Mrs. Batch had sent up
+something more calorific than cold salmon. He asked her daughter
+what was to follow.</p>
+
+<p>"There's a pigeon-pie, your Grace."</p>
+
+<p>"Cold? Then please ask your mother to heat it in the
+oven--quickly. Anything after that?"</p>
+
+<p>"A custard pudding, your Grace."</p>
+
+<p>"Cold? Let this, too, be heated. And bring up a bottle of
+champagne, please; and--and a bottle of port."</p>
+
+<p>His was a head that had always hitherto defied the grape. But
+he thought that to-day, by all he had gone through, by all the
+shocks he had suffered, and the strains he had steeled himself to
+bear, as well as by the actual malady that gripped him, he might
+perchance have been sapped enough to experience by reaction that
+cordial glow of which he had now and again seen symptoms in his
+fellows.</p>
+
+<p>Nor was he altogether disappointed of this hope. As the meal
+progressed, and the last of the champagne sparkled in his glass,
+certain things said to him by Zuleika--certain implied criticisms
+that had rankled, yes--lost their power to discommode him. He was
+able to smile at the impertinences of an angry woman, the
+tantrums of a tenth-rate conjurer told to go away. He felt he had
+perhaps acted harshly. With all her faults, she had adored him.
+Yes, he had been arbitrary. There seemed to be a strain of
+brutality in his nature. Poor Zuleika! He was glad for her that
+she had contrived to master her infatuation . . . Enough for him
+that he was loved by this exquisite meek girl who had served him
+at the feast. Anon, when he summoned her to clear the things
+away, he would bid her tell him the tale of her lowly passion. He
+poured a second glass of port, sipped it, quaffed it, poured a
+third. The grey gloom of the weather did but, as he eyed the
+bottle, heighten his sense of the rich sunshine so long ago
+imprisoned by the vintner and now released to make glad his soul.
+Even so to be released was the love pent for him in the heart of
+this sweet girl. Would that he loved her in return! . . . Why
+not?</p>
+
+<p align="center">"Prius insolentem</p>
+
+<p align="center">Serva Briseis niveo colore</p>
+
+<p align="center">Movit Achillem."</p>
+
+<p>�</p>
+
+<p>Nor were it gracious to invite an avowal of love and offer
+none in return. Yet, yet, expansive though his mood was, he could
+not pretend to himself that he was about to feel in this girl's
+presence anything but gratitude. He might pretend to her?
+Deception were a very poor return indeed for all her kindness.
+Besides, it might turn her head. Some small token of his
+gratitude--some trinket by which to remember him--was all that he
+could allow himself to offer . . . What trinket? Would she like
+to have one of his scarf-pins? Studs? Still more abs-- Ah! he had
+it, he literally and most providentially had it, there, in the
+fender: a pair of ear-rings!</p>
+
+<p>He plucked the pink pearl and the black from where they lay,
+and rang the bell.</p>
+
+<p>His sense of dramatic propriety needed that the girl should,
+before he addressed her, perform her task of clearing the table.
+If she had it to perform after telling her love, and after
+receiving his gift and his farewell, the bathos would be
+distressing for them both.</p>
+
+<p>But, while he watched her at her task, he did wish she would
+be a little quicker. For the glow in him seemed to be cooling
+momently. He wished he had had more than three glasses from the
+crusted bottle which she was putting away into the chiffonier.
+Down, doubt! Down, sense of disparity! The moment was at hand.
+Would he let it slip? Now she was folding up the table-cloth, now
+she was going.</p>
+
+<p>"Stay!" he uttered. "I have something to say to you." The girl
+turned to him.</p>
+
+<p>He forced his eyes to meet hers. "I understand," he said in a
+constrained voice, "that you regard me with sentiments of
+something more than esteem.--Is this so?"</p>
+
+<p>The girl had stepped quickly back, and her face was
+scarlet.</p>
+
+<p>"Nay," he said, having to go through with it now, "there is no
+cause for embarrassment. And I am sure you will acquit me of
+wanton curiosity. Is it a fact that you--love me?"</p>
+
+<p>She tried to speak, could not. But she nodded her head.</p>
+
+<p>The Duke, much relieved, came nearer to her.</p>
+
+<p>"What is your name?" he asked gently.</p>
+
+<p>"Katie," she was able to gasp.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Katie, how long have you loved me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ever since," she faltered, "ever since you came to engage the
+rooms."</p>
+
+<p>"You are not, of course, given to idolising any tenant of your
+mother's?"</p>
+
+<p>"No."</p>
+
+<p>"May I boast myself the first possessor of your heart?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes." She had become very pale now, and was trembling
+painfully.</p>
+
+<p>"And may I assume that your love for me has been entirely
+disinterested? . . . You do not catch my meaning? I will put my
+question in another way. In loving me, you never supposed me
+likely to return your love?"</p>
+
+<p>The girl looked up at him quickly, but at once her eyelids
+fluttered down again.</p>
+
+<p>"Come, come!" said the Duke. "My question is a plain one. Did
+you ever for an instant suppose, Katie, that I might come to love
+you?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," she said in a whisper; "I never dared to hope that."</p>
+
+<p>"Precisely," said he. "You never imagined that you had
+anything to gain by your affection. You were not contriving a
+trap for me. You were upheld by no hope of becoming a young
+Duchess, with more frocks than you could wear and more dross than
+you could scatter. I am glad. I am touched. You are the first
+woman that has loved me in that way. Or rather," he muttered,
+"the first but one. And she . . . Answer me," he said, standing
+over the girl, and speaking with a great intensity. "If I were to
+tell you that I loved you, would you cease to love me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh your Grace!" cried the girl. "Why no! I never dared--"</p>
+
+<p>"Enough!" he said. "The catechism is ended. I have something
+which I should like to give you. Are your ears pierced?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, your Grace."</p>
+
+<p>"Then, Katie, honour me by accepting this present." So saying,
+he placed in the girl's hand the black pearl and the pink. The
+sight of them banished for a moment all other emotions in their
+recipient. She forgot herself. "Lor!" she said.</p>
+
+<p>"I hope you will wear them always for my sake," said the
+Duke.</p>
+
+<p>She had expressed herself in the monosyllable. No words came
+to her lips, but to her eyes many tears, through which the pearls
+were visible. They whirled in her bewildered brain as a token
+that she was loved--loved by HIM, though but yesterday he had
+loved another. It was all so sudden, so beautiful. You might have
+knocked her down (she says so to this day) with a feather. Seeing
+her agitation, the Duke pointed to a chair, bade her be
+seated.</p>
+
+<p>Her mind was cleared by the new posture. Suspicion crept into
+it, followed by alarm. She looked at the ear-rings, then up at
+the Duke.</p>
+
+<p>"No," said he, misinterpreting the question in her eyes, "they
+are real pearls."</p>
+
+<p>"It isn't that," she quavered, "it is--it is--"</p>
+
+<p>"That they were given to me by Miss Dobson?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, they were, were they? Then"--Katie rose, throwing the
+pearls on the floor--"I'll have nothing to do with them. I hate
+her."</p>
+
+<p>"So do I," said the Duke, in a burst of confidence. "No, I
+don't," he added hastily. "Please forget that I said that."</p>
+
+<p>It occurred to Katie that Miss Dobson would be ill-pleased
+that the pearls should pass to her. She picked them up.</p>
+
+<p>"Only--only--" again her doubts beset her and she looked from
+the pearls to the Duke.</p>
+
+<p>"Speak on," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh you aren't playing with me, are you? You don't mean me
+harm, do you? I have been well brought up. I have been warned
+against things. And it seems so strange, what you have said to
+me. You are a Duke, and I--I am only--"</p>
+
+<p>"It is the privilege of nobility to condescend."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, yes," she cried. "I see. Oh I was wicked to doubt you.
+And love levels all, doesn't it? love and the Board school. Our
+stations are far apart, but I've been educated far above mine.
+I've learnt more than most real ladies have. I passed the Seventh
+Standard when I was only just fourteen. I was considered one of
+the sharpest girls in the school. And I've gone on learning since
+then," she continued eagerly. "I utilise all my spare moments.
+I've read twenty-seven of the Hundred Best Books. I collect
+ferns. I play the piano, whenever . . ." She broke off, for she
+remembered that her music was always interrupted by the ringing
+of the Duke's bell and a polite request that it should cease.</p>
+
+<p>"I am glad to hear of these accomplishments. They do you great
+credit, I am sure. But--well, I do not quite see why you
+enumerate them just now."</p>
+
+<p>"It isn't that I am vain," she pleaded. "I only mentioned them
+because . . . oh, don't you see? If I'm not ignorant, I shan't
+disgrace you. People won't be so able to say you've been and
+thrown yourself away."</p>
+
+<p>"Thrown myself away? What do you mean?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, they'll make all sorts of objections, I know. They'll all
+be against me, and--"</p>
+
+<p>"For heaven's sake, explain yourself."</p>
+
+<p>"Your aunt, she looked a very proud lady--very high and hard.
+I thought so when she came here last term. But you're of age.
+You're your own master. Oh, I trust you; you'll stand by me. If
+you love me really you won't listen to them."</p>
+
+<p>"Love you? I? Are you mad?"</p>
+
+<p>Each stared at the other, utterly bewildered.</p>
+
+<p>The girl was the first to break the silence. Her voice came in
+a whisper. "You've not been playing a joke on me? You meant what
+you said, didn't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"What have I said?"</p>
+
+<p>"You said you loved me."</p>
+
+<p>"You must be dreaming."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not. Here are the ear-rings you gave me." She pinched
+them as material proof. "You said you loved me just before you
+gave me them. You know you did. And if I thought you'd been
+laughing at me all the time--I'd--I'd"--a sob choked her
+voice--"I'd throw them in your face!"</p>
+
+<p>"You must not speak to me in that manner," said the Duke
+coldly. "And let me warn you that this attempt to trap me and
+intimidate me--"</p>
+
+<p>The girl had flung the ear-rings at his face. She had missed
+her mark. But this did not extenuate the outrageous gesture. He
+pointed to the door. "Go!" he said.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't try that on!" she laughed. "I shan't go--not unless you
+drag me out. And if you do that, I'll raise the house. I'll have
+in the neighbours. I'll tell them all what you've done, and--"
+But defiance melted in the hot shame of humiliation. "Oh, you
+coward!" she gasped. "You coward!" She caught her apron to her
+face and, swaying against the wall, sobbed piteously.</p>
+
+<p>Unaccustomed to love-affairs, the Duke could not sail lightly
+over a flood of woman's tears. He was filled with pity for the
+poor quivering figure against the wall. How should he soothe her?
+Mechanically he picked up the two pearls from the carpet, and
+crossed to her side. He touched her on the shoulder. She
+shuddered away from him.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't," he said gently. "Don't cry. I can't bear it. I have
+been stupid and thoughtless. What did you say your name was?
+'Katie,' to be sure. Well, Katie, I want to beg your pardon. I
+expressed myself badly. I was unhappy and lonely, and I saw in
+you a means of comfort. I snatched at you, Katie, as at a straw.
+And then, I suppose, I must have said something which made you
+think I loved you. I almost wish I did. I don't wonder you threw
+the ear-rings at me. I--I almost wish they had hit me . . . You
+see, I have quite forgiven you. Now do you forgive me. You will
+not refuse now to wear the ear-rings. I gave them to you as a
+keepsake. Wear them always in memory of me. For you will never
+see me again."</p>
+
+<p>The girl had ceased from crying, and her anger had spent
+itself in sobs. She was gazing at him woebegone but composed.</p>
+
+<p>"Where are you going?"</p>
+
+<p>"You must not ask that," said he. "Enough that my wings are
+spread."</p>
+
+<p>"Are you going because of ME?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not in the least. Indeed, your devotion is one of the things
+which make bitter my departure. And yet--I am glad you love
+me."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't go," she faltered. He came nearer to her, and this time
+she did not shrink from him. "Don't you find the rooms
+comfortable?" she asked, gazing up at him. "Have you ever had any
+complaint to make about the attendance?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," said the Duke, "the attendance has always been quite
+satisfactory. I have never felt that so keenly as I do
+to-day."</p>
+
+<p>"Then why are you leaving? Why are you breaking my heart?"</p>
+
+<p>"Suffice it that I cannot do otherwise. Henceforth you will
+see me no more. But I doubt not that in the cultivation of my
+memory you will find some sort of lugubrious satisfaction. See!
+here are the ear- rings. If you like, I will put them in with my
+own hands."</p>
+
+<p>She held up her face side-ways. Into the lobe of her left ear
+he insinuated the hook of the black pearl. On the cheek upturned
+to him there were still traces of tears; the eyelashes were still
+spangled. For all her blondness, they were quite dark, these
+glistening eyelashes. He had an impulse, which he put from him.
+"Now the other ear," he said. The girl turned her head. Soon the
+pink pearl was in its place. Yet the girl did not move. She
+seemed to be waiting. Nor did the Duke himself seem to be quite
+satisfied. He let his fingers dally with the pearl. Anon, with a
+sigh, he withdrew them. The girl looked up. Their eyes met. He
+looked away from her. He turned away from her. "You may kiss my
+hand," he murmured, extending it towards her. After a pause, the
+warm pressure of her lips was laid on it. He sighed, but did not
+look round. Another pause, a longer pause, and then the clatter
+and clink of the outgoing tray.</p>
+
+<p>�</p>
+
+<h3>XVIII</h3>
+
+<p>Her actual offspring does not suffice a very motherly woman.
+Such a woman was Mrs. Batch. Had she been blest with a dozen
+children, she must yet have regarded herself as also a mother to
+whatever two young gentlemen were lodging under her roof.
+Childless but for Katie and Clarence, she had for her successive
+pairs of tenants a truly vast fund of maternal feeling to draw
+on. Nor were the drafts made in secret. To every gentleman, from
+the outset, she proclaimed the relation in which she would stand
+to him. Moreover, always she needed a strong filial sense in
+return: this was only fair.</p>
+
+<p>Because the Duke was an orphan, even more than because he was
+a Duke, her heart had with a special rush gone out to him when he
+and Mr. Noaks became her tenants. But, perhaps because he had
+never known a mother, he was evidently quite incapable of
+conceiving either Mrs. Batch as his mother or himself as her son.
+Indeed, there was that in his manner, in his look, which made her
+falter, for once, in exposition of her theory--made her postpone
+the matter to some more favourable time. That time never came,
+somehow. Still, her solicitude for him, her pride in him, her
+sense that he was a great credit to her, rather waxed than waned.
+He was more to her (such are the vagaries of the maternal
+instinct) than Katie or Mr. Noaks: he was as much as
+Clarence.</p>
+
+<p>It was, therefore, a deeply agitated woman who now came
+heaving up into the Duke's presence. His Grace was "giving
+notice"? She was sure she begged his pardon for coming up so
+sudden. But the news was that sudden. Hadn't her girl made a
+mistake, maybe? Girls were so vague- like nowadays. She was sure
+it was most kind of him to give those handsome ear-rings. But the
+thought of him going off so unexpected-- middle of term,
+too--with never a why or a but! Well!</p>
+
+<p>In some such welter of homely phrase (how foreign to these
+classic pages!) did Mrs. Batch utter her pain. The Duke answered
+her tersely but kindly. He apologised for going so abruptly, and
+said he would be very happy to write for her future use a
+testimonial to the excellence of her rooms and of her cooking;
+and with it he would give her a cheque not only for the full
+term's rent, and for his board since the beginning of term, but
+also for such board as he would have been likely to have in the
+term's remainder. He asked her to present her accounts
+forthwith.</p>
+
+<p>He occupied the few minutes of her absence by writing the
+testimonial. It had shaped itself in his mind as a short ode in
+Doric Greek. But, for the benefit of Mrs. Batch, he chose to do a
+rough equivalent in English.</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>TO AN UNDERGRADUATE NEEDING</p>
+
+<p>ROOMS IN OXFORD</p>
+
+<p>(A Sonnet in Oxfordshire Dialect)</p>
+
+<p>Zeek w'ere thee will in t'Univursity,</p>
+
+<p>Lad, thee'll not vind nor bread nor bed that matches</p>
+
+<p>Them as thee'll vind, roight zure, at Mrs. Batch's . . .</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>�</p>
+
+<p>I do not quote the poem in extenso, because, frankly, I think
+it was one of his least happily-inspired works. His was not a
+Muse that could with a good grace doff the grand manner. Also,
+his command of the Oxfordshire dialect seems to me based less on
+study than on conjecture. In fact, I do not place the poem higher
+than among the curiosities of literature. It has extrinsic value,
+however, as illustrating the Duke's thoughtfulness for others in
+the last hours of his life. And to Mrs. Batch the MS., framed and
+glazed in her hall, is an asset beyond price (witness her recent
+refusal of Mr. Pierpont Morgan's sensational bid for it).</p>
+
+<p>This MS. she received together with the Duke's cheque. The
+presentation was made some twenty minutes after she had laid her
+accounts before him.</p>
+
+<p>Lavish in giving large sums of his own accord, he was apt to
+be circumspect in the matter of small payments. Such is ever the
+way of opulent men. Nor do I see that we have a right to sneer at
+them for it. We cannot deny that their existence is a temptation
+to us. It is in our fallen nature to want to get something out of
+them; and, as we think in small sums (heaven knows), it is of
+small sums that they are careful. Absurd to suppose they really
+care about halfpence. It must, therefore, be about us that they
+care; and we ought to be grateful to them for the pains they are
+at to keep us guiltless. I do not suggest that Mrs. Batch had at
+any point overcharged the Duke; but how was he to know that she
+had not done so, except by checking the items, as was his wont?
+The reductions that he made, here and there, did not in all
+amount to three-and-sixpence. I do not say they were just. But I
+do say that his motive for making them, and his satisfaction at
+having made them, were rather beautiful than otherwise.</p>
+
+<p>Having struck an average of Mrs. Batch's weekly charges, and a
+similar average of his own reductions, he had a basis on which to
+reckon his board for the rest of the term. This amount he added
+to Mrs. Batch's amended total, plus the full term's rent, and
+accordingly drew a cheque on the local bank where he had an
+account. Mrs. Batch said she would bring up a stamped receipt
+directly; but this the Duke waived, saying that the cashed cheque
+itself would be a sufficient receipt. Accordingly, he reduced by
+one penny the amount written on the cheque. Remembering to
+initial the correction, he remembered also, with a melancholy
+smile, that to-morrow the cheque would not be negotiable. Handing
+it, and the sonnet, to Mrs. Batch, he bade her cash it before the
+bank closed. "And," he said, "with a glance at his watch, "you
+have no time to lose. It is a quarter to four." Only two hours
+and a quarter before the final races! How quickly the sands were
+running out!</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Batch paused on the threshold, wanted to know if she
+could "help with the packing." The Duke replied that he was
+taking nothing with him: his various things would be sent for,
+packed, and removed, within a few days. No, he did not want her
+to order a cab. He was going to walk. And "Good-bye, Mrs. Batch,"
+he said. "For legal reasons with which I won't burden you, you
+really must cash that cheque at once."</p>
+
+<p>He sat down in solitude; and there crept over him a mood of
+deep depression . . . Almost two hours and a quarter before the
+final races! What on earth should he do in the meantime? He
+seemed to have done all that there was for him to do. His
+executors would do the rest. He had no farewell-letters to write.
+He had no friends with whom he was on terms of valediction. There
+was nothing at all for him to do. He stared blankly out of the
+window, at the greyness and blackness of the sky. What a day!
+What a climate! Why did any sane person live in England? He felt
+positively suicidal.</p>
+
+<p>His dully vagrant eye lighted on the bottle of Cold Mixture.
+He ought to have dosed himself a full hour ago. Well, he didn't
+care.</p>
+
+<p>Had Zuleika noticed the bottle? he idly wondered. Probably
+not. She would have made some sprightly reference to it before
+she went.</p>
+
+<p>Since there was nothing to do but sit and think, he wished he
+could recapture that mood in which at luncheon he had been able
+to see Zuleika as an object for pity. Never, till to-day, had he
+seen things otherwise than they were. Nor had he ever needed to.
+Never, till last night, had there been in his life anything he
+needed to forget. That woman! As if it really mattered what she
+thought of him. He despised himself for wishing to forget she
+despised him. But the wish was the measure of the need. He eyed
+the chiffonier. Should he again solicit the grape?</p>
+
+<p>Reluctantly he uncorked the crusted bottle, and filled a
+glass. Was he come to this? He sighed and sipped, quaffed and
+sighed. The spell of the old stored sunshine seemed not to work,
+this time. He could not cease from plucking at the net of
+ignominies in which his soul lay enmeshed. Would that he had died
+yesterday, escaping how much!</p>
+
+<p>Not for an instant did he flinch from the mere fact of dying
+to-day. Since he was not immortal, as he had supposed, it were as
+well he should die now as fifty years hence. Better, indeed. To
+die "untimely," as men called it, was the timeliest of all deaths
+for one who had carved his youth to greatness. What perfection
+could he, Dorset, achieve beyond what was already his? Future
+years could but stale, if not actually mar, that perfection. Yes,
+it was lucky to perish leaving much to the imagination of
+posterity. Dear posterity was of a sentimental, not a realistic,
+habit. She always imagined the dead young hero prancing
+gloriously up to the Psalmist's limit a young hero still; and it
+was the sense of her vast loss that kept his memory green.
+Byron!--he would be all forgotten to-day if he had lived to be a
+florid old gentleman with iron-grey whiskers, writing very long,
+very able letters to "The Times" about the Repeal of the Corn
+Laws. Yes, Byron would have been that. It was indicated in him.
+He would have been an old gentleman exacerbated by Queen
+Victoria's invincible prejudice against him, her brusque refusal
+to "entertain" Lord John Russell's timid nomination of him for a
+post in the Government . . . Shelley would have been a poet to
+the last. But how dull, how very dull, would have been the poetry
+of his middle age!--a great unreadable mass interposed between
+him and us . . . Did Byron, mused the Duke, know what was to be
+at Missolonghi? Did he know that he was to die in service of the
+Greeks whom he despised? Byron might not have minded that. But
+what if the Greeks had told him, in so many words, that they
+despised HIM? How would he have felt then? Would he have been
+content with his potations of barley-water? . . . The Duke
+replenished his glass, hoping the spell might work yet. . . .
+Perhaps, had Byron not been a dandy--but ah, had he not been in
+his soul a dandy there would have been no Byron worth mentioning.
+And it was because he guarded not his dandyism against this and
+that irrelevant passion, sexual or political, that he cut so
+annoyingly incomplete a figure. He was absurd in his politics,
+vulgar in his loves. Only in himself, at the times when he stood
+haughtily aloof, was he impressive. Nature, fashioning him, had
+fashioned also a pedestal for him to stand and brood on, to pose
+and sing on. Off that pedestal he was lost. . . . "The idol has
+come sliding down from its pedestal" --the Duke remembered these
+words spoken yesterday by Zuleika. Yes, at the moment when he
+slid down, he, too, was lost. For him, master- dandy, the common
+arena was no place. What had he to do with love? He was an utter
+fool at it. Byron had at least had some fun out of it. What fun
+had HE had? Last night, he had forgotten to kiss Zuleika when he
+held her by the wrists. To-day it had been as much as he could do
+to let poor little Katie kiss his hand. Better be vulgar with
+Byron than a noodle with Dorset! he bitterly reflected . . .
+Still, noodledom was nearer than vulgarity to dandyism. It was a
+less flagrant lapse. And he had over Byron this further
+advantage: his noodledom was not a matter of common knowledge;
+whereas Byron's vulgarity had ever needed to be in the glare of
+the footlights of Europe. The world would say of him that he laid
+down his life for a woman. Deplorable somersault? But nothing
+evident save this in his whole life was faulty . . . The one
+other thing that might be carped at--the partisan speech he made
+in the Lords--had exquisitely justified itself by its result. For
+it was as a Knight of the Garter that he had set the perfect seal
+on his dandyism. Yes, he reflected, it was on the day when first
+he donned the most grandiose of all costumes, and wore it
+grandlier than ever yet in history had it been worn, than ever
+would it be worn hereafter, flaunting the robes with a grace
+unparalleled and inimitable, and lending, as it were, to the very
+insignia a glory beyond their own, that he once and for all
+fulfilled himself, doer of that which he had been sent into the
+world to do.</p>
+
+<p>And there floated into his mind a desire, vague at first, soon
+definite, imperious, irresistible, to see himself once more,
+before he died, indued in the fulness of his glory and his
+might.</p>
+
+<p>Nothing hindered. There was yet a whole hour before he need
+start for the river. His eyes dilated, somewhat as might those of
+a child about to "dress up" for a charade; and already, in his
+impatience, he had undone his neck-tie.</p>
+
+<p>One after another, he unlocked and threw open the black tin
+boxes, snatching out greedily their great good splendours of
+crimson and white and royal blue and gold. You wonder he was not
+appalled by the task of essaying unaided a toilet so extensive
+and so intricate? You wondered even when you heard that he was
+wont at Oxford to make without help his toilet of every day.
+Well, the true dandy is always capable of such high independence.
+He is craftsman as well as artist. And, though any unaided Knight
+but he with whom we are here concerned would belike have doddered
+hopeless in that labyrinth of hooks and buckles which underlies
+the visible glory of a Knight "arraied full and proper," Dorset
+threaded his way featly and without pause. He had mastered his
+first excitement. In his swiftness was no haste. His procedure
+had the ease and inevitability of a natural phenomenon, and was
+most like to the coming of a rainbow.</p>
+
+<p>Crimson-doubleted, blue-ribanded, white-trunk-hosed, he
+stooped to understrap his left knee with that strap of velvet
+round which sparkles the proud gay motto of the Order. He affixed
+to his breast the octoradiant star, so much larger and more
+lustrous than any actual star in heaven. Round his neck he slung
+that long daedal chain wherefrom St. George, slaying the Dragon,
+dangles. He bowed his shoulders to assume that vast mantle of
+blue velvet, so voluminous, so enveloping, that, despite the
+Cross of St. George blazing on it, and the shoulder-knots like
+two great white tropical flowers planted on it, we seem to know
+from it in what manner of mantle Elijah prophesied. Across his
+breast he knotted this mantle's two cords of gleaming bullion,
+one tassel a due trifle higher than its fellow. All these things
+being done, he moved away from the mirror, and drew on a pair of
+white kid gloves. Both of these being buttoned, he plucked up
+certain folds of his mantle into the hollow of his left arm, and
+with his right hand gave to his left hand that ostrich-plumed and
+heron-plumed hat of black velvet in which a Knight of the Garter
+is entitled to take his walks abroad. Then, with head erect, and
+measured tread, he returned to the mirror.</p>
+
+<p>You are thinking, I know, of Mr. Sargent's famous portrait of
+him. Forget it. Tankerton Hall is open to the public on
+Wednesdays. Go there, and in the dining-hall stand to study well
+Sir Thomas Lawrence's portrait of the eleventh Duke. Imagine a
+man some twenty years younger than he whom you there behold, but
+having some such features and some such bearing, and clad in just
+such robes. Sublimate the dignity of that bearing and of those
+features, and you will then have seen the fourteenth Duke
+somewhat as he stood reflected in the mirror of his room. Resist
+your impulse to pass on to the painting which hangs next but two
+to Lawrence's. It deserves, I know, all that you said about it
+when (at the very time of the events in this chronicle) it was
+hanging in Burlington House. Marvellous, I grant you, are those
+passes of the swirling brush by which the velvet of the mantle is
+rendered--passes so light and seemingly so fortuitous, yet, seen
+at the right distance, so absolute in their power to create an
+illusion of the actual velvet. Sheen of white satin and silk,
+glint of gold, glitter of diamonds--never were such things caught
+by surer hand obedient to more voracious eye. Yes, all the
+splendid surface of everything is there. Yet must you not look.
+The soul is not there. An expensive, very new costume is there,
+but no evocation of the high antique things it stands for;
+whereas by the Duke it was just these things that were evoked to
+make an aura round him, a warm symbolic glow sharpening the
+outlines of his own particular magnificence. Reflecting him, the
+mirror reflected, in due subordination, the history of England.
+There is nothing of that on Mr. Sargent's canvas. Obtruded
+instead is the astounding slickness of Mr. Sargent's technique:
+not the sitter, but the painter, is master here. Nay, though I
+hate to say it, there is in the portrayal of the Duke's attitude
+and expression a hint of something like mockery-- unintentional,
+I am sure, but to a sensitive eye discernible. And--but it is
+clumsy of me to be reminding you of the very picture I would have
+you forget.</p>
+
+<p>Long stood the Duke gazing, immobile. One thing alone ruffled
+his deep inward calm. This was the thought that he must presently
+put off from him all his splendour, and be his normal self.</p>
+
+<p>The shadow passed from his brow. He would go forth as he was.
+He would be true to the motto he wore, and true to himself. A
+dandy he had lived. In the full pomp and radiance of his dandyism
+he would die.</p>
+
+<p>His soul rose from calm to triumph. A smile lit his face, and
+he held his head higher than ever. He had brought nothing into
+this world and could take nothing out of it? Well, what he loved
+best he could carry with him to the very end; and in death they
+would not be divided.</p>
+
+<p>The smile was still on his face as he passed out from his
+room. Down the stairs he passed, and "Oh," every stair creaked
+faintly, "I ought to have been marble!"</p>
+
+<p>And it did indeed seem that Mrs. Batch and Katie, who had
+hurried out into the hall, were turned to some kind of stone at
+sight of the descending apparition. A moment ago, Mrs. Batch had
+been hoping she might yet at the last speak motherly words. A
+hopeless mute now! A moment ago, Katie's eyelids had been red
+with much weeping. Even from them the colour suddenly ebbed now.
+Dead-white her face was between the black pearl and the pink.
+"And this is the man of whom I dared once for an instant hope
+that he loved me!"--it was thus that the Duke, quite correctly,
+interpreted her gaze.</p>
+
+<p>To her and to her mother he gave an inclusive bow as he swept
+slowly by. Stone was the matron, and stone the maid.</p>
+
+<p>Stone, too, the Emperors over the way; and the more poignantly
+thereby was the Duke a sight to anguish them, being the very
+incarnation of what themselves had erst been, or tried to be. But
+in this bitterness they did not forget their sorrow at his doom.
+They were in a mood to forgive him the one fault they had ever
+found in him--his indifference to their Katie. And now--o mirum
+mirorum--even this one fault was wiped out.</p>
+
+<p>For, stung by memory of a gibe lately cast at him by himself,
+the Duke had paused and, impulsively looking back into the hall,
+had beckoned Katie to him; and she had come (she knew not how) to
+him; and there, standing on the doorstep whose whiteness was the
+symbol of her love, he--very lightly, it is true, and on the
+upmost confines of the brow, but quite perceptibly--had kissed
+her.</p>
+
+<p>�</p>
+
+<h3>XIX</h3>
+
+<p>And now he had passed under the little arch between the eighth
+and the ninth Emperor, rounded the Sheldonian, and been lost to
+sight of Katie, whom, as he was equally glad and sorry he had
+kissed her, he was able to dismiss from his mind.</p>
+
+<p>In the quadrangle of the Old Schools he glanced round at the
+familiar labels, blue and gold, over the iron-studded
+doors,--Schola Theologiae et Antiquae Philosophiae; Museum
+Arundelianum; Schola Musicae. And Bibliotheca Bodleiana--he
+paused there, to feel for the last time the vague thrill he had
+always felt at sight of the small and devious portal that had
+lured to itself, and would always lure, so many scholars from the
+ends of the earth, scholars famous and scholars obscure, scholars
+polyglot and of the most diverse bents, but none of them not
+stirred in heart somewhat on the found threshold of the
+treasure-house. "How deep, how perfect, the effect made here by
+refusal to make any effect whatsoever!" thought the Duke.
+Perhaps, after all . . . but no: one could lay down no general
+rule. He flung his mantle a little wider from his breast, and
+proceeded into Radcliffe Square.</p>
+
+<p>Another farewell look he gave to the old vast horse-chestnut
+that is called Bishop Heber's tree. Certainly, no: there was no
+general rule. With its towering and bulging masses of verdure
+tricked out all over in their annual finery of catkins, Bishop
+Heber's tree stood for the very type of ingenuous ostentation.
+And who should dare cavil? who not be gladdened? Yet awful, more
+than gladdening, was the effect that the tree made to-day.
+Strangely pale was the verdure against the black sky; and the
+multitudinous catkins had a look almost ghostly. The Duke
+remembered the legend that every one of these fair white spires
+of blossom is the spirit of some dead man who, having loved
+Oxford much and well, is suffered thus to revisit her, for a
+brief while, year by year. And it pleased him to doubt not that
+on one of the topmost branches, next Spring, his own spirit would
+be.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, look!" cried a young lady emerging with her brother and
+her aunt through the gate of Brasenose.</p>
+
+<p>"For heaven's sake, Jessie, try to behave yourself," hissed
+her brother. "Aunt Mabel, for heaven's sake don't stare." He
+compelled the pair to walk on with him. "Jessie, if you look
+round over your shoulder . . . No, it is NOT the Vice-Chancellor.
+It's Dorset, of Judas--the Duke of Dorset . . . Why on earth
+shouldn't he? . . . No, it isn't odd in the least . . . No, I'm
+NOT losing my temper. Only, don't call me your dear boy . . . No,
+we will NOT walk slowly so as to let him pass us . . . Jessie, if
+you look round . . ."</p>
+
+<p>Poor fellow! However fond an undergraduate be of his
+womenfolk, at Oxford they keep him in a painful state of tension:
+at any moment they may somehow disgrace him. And if throughout
+the long day he shall have had the added strain of guarding them
+from the knowledge that he is about to commit suicide, a certain
+measure of irritability must be condoned.</p>
+
+<p>Poor Jessie and Aunt Mabel! They were destined to remember
+that Harold had been "very peculiar" all day. They had arrived in
+the morning, happy and eager despite the menace of the sky,
+and--well, they were destined to reproach themselves for having
+felt that Harold was "really rather impossible." Oh, if he had
+only confided in them! They could have reasoned with him, saved
+him--surely they could have saved him! When he told them that the
+"First Division" of the races was always very dull, and that they
+had much better let him go to it alone,--when he told them that
+it was always very rowdy, and that ladies were not supposed to be
+there--oh, why had they not guessed and clung to him, and kept
+him away from the river?</p>
+
+<p>Well, here they were, walking on Harold's either side, blind
+to fate, and only longing to look back at the gorgeous personage
+behind them. Aunt Mabel had inwardly calculated that the velvet
+of the mantle alone could not have cost less than four guineas a
+yard. One good look back, and she would be able to calculate how
+many yards there were . . . She followed the example of Lot's
+wife; and Jessie followed hers.</p>
+
+<p>"Very well," said Harold. "That settles it. I go alone." And
+he was gone like an arrow, across the High, down Oriel
+Street.</p>
+
+<p>The two women stood staring ruefully at each other.</p>
+
+<p>"Pardon me," said the Duke, with a sweep of his plumed hat. "I
+observe you are stranded; and, if I read your thoughts aright,
+you are impugning the courtesy of that young runagate. Neither of
+you, I am very sure, is as one of those ladies who in Imperial
+Rome took a saucy pleasure in the spectacle of death. Neither of
+you can have been warned by your escort that you were on the way
+to see him die, of his own accord, in company with many hundreds
+of other lads, myself included. Therefore, regard his flight from
+you as an act not of unkindness, but of tardy compunction. The
+hint you have had from him let me turn into a counsel. Go back,
+both of you, to the place whence you came."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you SO much," said Aunt Mabel, with what she took to be
+great presence of mind. "MOST kind of you. We'll do JUST what you
+tell us. Come, Jessie dear," and she hurried her niece away with
+her.</p>
+
+<p>Something in her manner of fixing him with her eye had made
+the Duke suspect what was in her mind. Well, she would find out
+her mistake soon enough, poor woman. He desired, however, that
+her mistake should be made by no one else. He would give no more
+warnings.</p>
+
+<p>Tragic it was for him, in Merton Street, to see among the
+crowd converging to the meadows so many women, young and old, all
+imprescient, troubled by nothing but the thunder that was in the
+air, that was on the brows of their escorts. He knew not whether
+it was for their escorts or for them that he felt the greater
+pity; and an added load for his heart was the sense of his
+partial responsibility for what impended. But his lips were
+sealed now. Why should he not enjoy the effect he was
+creating?</p>
+
+<p>It was with a measured tread, as yesterday with Zuleika, that
+he entered the avenue of elms. The throng streamed past from
+behind him, parting wide, and marvelling as it streamed. Under
+the pall of this evil evening his splendour was the more
+inspiring. And, just as yesterday no man had questioned his right
+to be with Zuleika, so to-day there was none to deem him
+caparisoned too much. All the men felt at a glance that he,
+coming to meet death thus, did no more than the right homage to
+Zuleika--aye, and that he made them all partakers in his own
+glory, casting his great mantle over all commorients. Reverence
+forbade them to do more than glance. But the women with them were
+impelled by wonder to stare hard, uttering sharp little cries
+that mingled with the cawing of the rooks overhead. Thus did
+scores of men find themselves shamed like our friend Harold. But
+this, you say, was no more than a just return for their behaviour
+yesterday, when, in this very avenue, so many women were almost
+crushed to death by them in their insensate eagerness to see Miss
+Dobson.</p>
+
+<p>To-day by scores of women it was calculated not only that the
+velvet of the Duke's mantle could not have cost less than four
+guineas a yard, but also that there must be quite twenty-five
+yards of it. Some of the fair mathematicians had, in the course
+of the past fortnight, visited the Royal Academy and seen there
+Mr. Sargent's portrait of the wearer, so that their estimate now
+was but the endorsement of an estimate already made. Yet their
+impression of the Duke was above all a spiritual one. The
+nobility of his face and bearing was what most thrilled them as
+they went by; and those of them who had heard the rumour that he
+was in love with that frightfully flashy-looking creature,
+Zuleika Dobson, were more than ever sure there wasn't a word of
+truth in it.</p>
+
+<p>As he neared the end of the avenue, the Duke was conscious of
+a thinning in the procession on either side of him, and anon he
+was aware that not one undergraduate was therein. And he knew at
+once-- did not need to look back to know--why this was. SHE was
+coming.</p>
+
+<p>Yes, she had come into the avenue, her magnetism speeding
+before her, insomuch that all along the way the men immediately
+ahead of her looked round, beheld her, stood aside for her. With
+her walked The MacQuern, and a little bodyguard of other blest
+acquaintances; and behind her swayed the dense mass of the
+disorganised procession. And now the last rank between her and
+the Duke was broken, and at the revealed vision of him she
+faltered midway in some raillery she was addressing to The
+MacQuern. Her eyes were fixed, her lips were parted, her tread
+had become stealthy. With a brusque gesture of dismissal to the
+men beside her, she darted forward, and lightly overtook the Duke
+just as he was turning towards the barges.</p>
+
+<p>"May I?" she whispered, smiling round into his face.</p>
+
+<p>His shoulder-knots just perceptibly rose.</p>
+
+<p>"There isn't a policeman in sight, John. You're at my mercy.
+No, no; I'm at yours. Tolerate me. You really do look quite
+wonderful. There, I won't be so impertinent as to praise you.
+Only let me be with you. Will you?"</p>
+
+<p>The shoulder-knots repeated their answer.</p>
+
+<p>"You needn't listen to me; needn't look at me--unless you care
+to use my eyes as mirrors. Only let me be seen with you. That's
+what I want. Not that your society isn't a boon in itself, John.
+Oh, I've been so bored since I left you. The MacQuern is too, too
+dull, and so are his friends. Oh, that meal with them in Balliol!
+As soon as I grew used to the thought that they were going to die
+for me, I simply couldn't stand them. Poor boys! it was as much
+as I could do not to tell them I wished them dead already.
+Indeed, when they brought me down for the first races, I did
+suggest that they might as well die now as later. Only they
+looked very solemn and said it couldn't possibly be done till
+after the final races. And oh, the tea with them! What have YOU
+been doing all the afternoon? Oh John, after THEM, I could almost
+love you again. Why can't one fall in love with a man's clothes?
+To think that all those splendid things you have on are going to
+be spoilt--all for me. Nominally for me, that is. It is very
+wonderful, John. I do appreciate it, really and truly, though I
+know you think I don't. John, if it weren't mere spite you feel
+for me--but it's no good talking about that. Come, let us be as
+cheerful as we may be. Is this the Judas house-boat?"</p>
+
+<p>"The Judas barge," said the Duke, irritated by a mistake which
+but yesterday had rather charmed him.</p>
+
+<p>As he followed his companion across the plank, there came
+dully from the hills the first low growl of the pent storm. The
+sound struck for him a strange contrast with the prattle he had
+perforce been listening to.</p>
+
+<p>"Thunder," said Zuleika over her shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>"Evidently," he answered.</p>
+
+<p>Half-way up the stairs to the roof, she looked round. "Aren't
+you coming?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>He shook his head, and pointed to the raft in front of the
+barge. She quickly descended.</p>
+
+<p>"Forgive me," he said, "my gesture was not a summons. The raft
+is for men."</p>
+
+<p>"What do you want to do on it?"</p>
+
+<p>"To wait there till the races are over."</p>
+
+<p>"But--what do you mean? Aren't you coming up on to the roof at
+all? Yesterday--"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I see," said the Duke, unable to repress a smile. "But
+to-day I am not dressed for a flying-leap."</p>
+
+<p>Zuleika put a finger to her lips. "Don't talk so loud. Those
+women up there will hear you. No one must ever know I knew what
+was going to happen. What evidence should I have that I tried to
+prevent it? Only my own unsupported word--and the world is always
+against a woman. So do be careful. I've thought it all out. The
+whole thing must be SPRUNG on me. Don't look so horribly cynical
+. . . What was I saying? Oh yes; well, it doesn't really matter.
+I had it fixed in my mind that you-- but no, of course, in that
+mantle you couldn't. But why not come up on the roof with me
+meanwhile, and then afterwards make some excuse and--" The rest
+of her whisper was lost in another growl of thunder.</p>
+
+<p>"I would rather make my excuses forthwith," said the Duke.
+"And, as the races must be almost due now, I advise you to go
+straight up and secure a place against the railing."</p>
+
+<p>"It will look very odd, my going all alone into a crowd of
+people whom I don't know. I'm an unmarried girl. I do think you
+might--"</p>
+
+<p>"Good-bye," said the Duke.</p>
+
+<p>Again Zuleika raised a warning finger.</p>
+
+<p>"Good-bye, John," she whispered. "See, I am still wearing your
+studs. Good-bye. Don't forget to call my name in a loud voice.
+You promised."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"And," she added, after a pause, "remember this. I have loved
+but twice in my life; and none but you have I loved. This, too:
+if you hadn't forced me to kill my love, I would have died with
+you. And you know it is true."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes." It was true enough.</p>
+
+<p>Courteously he watched her up the stairs.</p>
+
+<p>As she reached the roof, she cried down to him from the
+throng, "Then you will wait down there to take me home
+afterwards?"</p>
+
+<p>He bowed silently.</p>
+
+<p>The raft was even more crowded than yesterday, but way was
+made for him by Judasians past and present. He took his place in
+the centre of the front row.</p>
+
+<p>At his feet flowed the fateful river. From the various barges
+the last punt-loads had been ferried across to the towing-path,
+and the last of the men who were to follow the boats in their
+course had vanished towards the starting-point. There remained,
+however, a fringe of lesser enthusiasts. Their figures stood
+outlined sharply in that strange dark clearness which immediately
+precedes a storm.</p>
+
+<p>The thunder rumbled around the hills, and now and again there
+was a faint glare on the horizon.</p>
+
+<p>Would Judas bump Magdalen? Opinion on the raft seemed to be
+divided. But the sanguine spirits were in a majority.</p>
+
+<p>"If I were making a book on the event," said a middle-aged
+clergyman, with that air of breezy emancipation which is so
+distressing to the laity, "I'd bet two to one we bump."</p>
+
+<p>"You demean your cloth, sir," the Duke would have said,
+"without cheating its disabilities," had not his mouth been
+stopped by a loud and prolonged thunder-clap.</p>
+
+<p>In the hush thereafter, came the puny sound of a gunshot. The
+boats were starting. Would Judas bump Magdalen? Would Judas be
+head of the river?</p>
+
+<p>Strange, thought the Duke, that for him, standing as he did on
+the peak of dandyism, on the brink of eternity, this trivial
+question of boats could have importance. And yet, and yet, for
+this it was that his heart was beating. A few minutes hence, an
+end to victors and vanquished alike; and yet . . .</p>
+
+<p>A sudden white vertical streak slid down the sky. Then there
+was a consonance to split the drums of the world's ears, followed
+by a horrific rattling as of actual artillery--tens of thousands
+of gun-carriages simultaneously at the gallop, colliding,
+crashing, heeling over in the blackness.</p>
+
+<p>Then, and yet more awful, silence; the little earth cowering
+voiceless under the heavens' menace. And, audible in the hush
+now, a faint sound; the sound of the runners on the towing-path
+cheering the crews forward, forward.</p>
+
+<p>And there was another faint sound that came to the Duke's
+ears. It he understood when, a moment later, he saw the surface
+of the river alive with infinitesimal fountains.</p>
+
+<p>Rain!</p>
+
+<p>His very mantle was aspersed. In another minute he would stand
+sodden, inglorious, a mock. He didn't hesitate.</p>
+
+<p>"Zuleika!" he cried in a loud voice. Then he took a deep
+breath, and, burying his face in his mantle, plunged.</p>
+
+<p>Full on the river lay the mantle outspread. Then it, too, went
+under. A great roll of water marked the spot. The plumed hat
+floated.</p>
+
+<p>There was a confusion of shouts from the raft, of screams from
+the roof. Many youths--all the youths there--cried "Zuleika!" and
+leapt emulously headlong into the water. "Brave fellows!" shouted
+the elder men, supposing rescue-work. The rain pelted, the
+thunder pealed. Here and there was a glimpse of a young head
+above water--for an instant only.</p>
+
+<p>Shouts and screams now from the infected barges on either
+side. A score of fresh plunges. "Splendid fellows!"</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile, what of the Duke? I am glad to say that he was
+alive and (but for the cold he had caught last night) well.
+Indeed, his mind had never worked more clearly than in this swift
+dim underworld. His mantle, the cords of it having come untied,
+had drifted off him, leaving his arms free. With breath
+well-pent, he steadily swam, scarcely less amused than annoyed
+that the gods had, after all, dictated the exact time at which he
+should seek death.</p>
+
+<p>I am loth to interrupt my narrative at this rather exciting
+moment--a moment when the quick, tense style, exemplified in the
+last paragraph but one, is so very desirable. But in justice to
+the gods I must pause to put in a word of excuse for them. They
+had imagined that it was in mere irony that the Duke had said he
+could not die till after the bumping-races; and not until it
+seemed that he stood ready to make an end of himself had the
+signal been given by Zeus for the rain to fall. One is taught to
+refrain from irony, because mankind does tend to take it
+literally. In the hearing of the gods, who hear all, it is
+conversely unsafe to make a simple and direct statement. So what
+is one to do? The dilemma needs a whole volume to itself.</p>
+
+<p>But to return to the Duke. He had now been under water for a
+full minute, swimming down stream; and he calculated that he had
+yet another full minute of consciousness. Already the whole of
+his past life had vividly presented itself to him--myriads of
+tiny incidents, long forgotten, now standing out sharply in their
+due sequence. He had mastered this conspectus in a flash of time,
+and was already tired of it. How smooth and yielding were the
+weeds against his face! He wondered if Mrs. Batch had been in
+time to cash the cheque. If not, of course his executors would
+pay the amount, but there would be delays, long delays, Mrs.
+Batch in meshes of red tape. Red tape for her, green weeds for
+him--he smiled at this poor conceit, classifying it as a fair
+sample of merman's wit. He swam on through the quiet cool
+darkness, less quickly now. Not many more strokes now, he told
+himself; a few, only a few; then sleep. How was he come here?
+Some woman had sent him. Ever so many years ago, some woman. He
+forgave her. There was nothing to forgive her. It was the gods
+who had sent him--too soon, too soon. He let his arms rise in the
+water, and he floated up. There was air in that over-world, and
+something he needed to know there before he came down again to
+sleep.</p>
+
+<p>He gasped the air into his lungs, and he remembered what it
+was that he needed to know.</p>
+
+<p>Had he risen in mid-stream, the keel of the Magdalen boat
+might have killed him. The oars of Magdalen did all but graze his
+face. The eyes of the Magdalen cox met his. The cords of the
+Magdalen rudder slipped from the hands that held them; whereupon
+the Magdalen man who rowed "bow" missed his stroke.</p>
+
+<p>An instant later, just where the line of barges begins, Judas
+had bumped Magdalen.</p>
+
+<p>A crash of thunder deadened the din of the stamping and
+dancing crowd on the towing-path. The rain was a deluge making
+land and water as one.</p>
+
+<p>And the conquered crew, and the conquering, both now had seen
+the face of the Duke. A white smiling face, anon it was gone.
+Dorset was gone down to his last sleep.</p>
+
+<p>Victory and defeat alike forgotten, the crews staggered erect
+and flung themselves into the river, the slender boats capsizing
+and spinning futile around in a melley of oars.</p>
+
+<p>From the towing-path--no more din there now, but great single
+cries of "Zuleika!"--leapt figures innumerable through rain to
+river. The arrested boats of the other crews drifted zigzag
+hither and thither. The dropped oars rocked and clashed, sank and
+rebounded, as the men plunged across them into the swirling
+stream.</p>
+
+<p>And over all this confusion and concussion of men and man-made
+things crashed the vaster discords of the heavens; and the waters
+of the heavens fell ever denser and denser, as though to the aid
+of waters that could not in themselves envelop so many hundreds
+of struggling human forms.</p>
+
+<p>All along the soaked towing-path lay strewn the horns, the
+rattles, the motor-hooters, that the youths had flung aside
+before they leapt. Here and there among these relics stood dazed
+elder men, staring through the storm. There was one of them--a
+grey-beard--who stripped off his blazer, plunged, grabbed at some
+live man, grappled him, was dragged under. He came up again
+further along stream, swam choking to the bank, clung to the
+grasses. He whimpered as he sought foot-hold in the slime. It was
+ill to be down in that abominable sink of death.</p>
+
+<p>Abominable, yes, to them who discerned there death only; but
+sacramental and sweet enough to the men who were dying there for
+love. Any face that rose was smiling.</p>
+
+<p>The thunder receded; the rain was less vehement: the boats and
+the oars had drifted against the banks. And always the patient
+river bore its awful burden towards Iffley.</p>
+
+<p>As on the towing-path, so on the youth-bereft rafts of the
+barges, yonder, stood many stupefied elders, staring at the
+river, staring back from the river into one another's faces.</p>
+
+<p>Dispeopled now were the roofs of the barges. Under the first
+drops of the rain most of the women had come huddling down for
+shelter inside; panic had presently driven down the rest. Yet on
+one roof one woman still was. A strange, drenched figure, she
+stood bright-eyed in the dimness; alone, as it was well she
+should be in her great hour; draining the lees of such homage as
+had come to no woman in history recorded.</p>
+
+<p>�</p>
+
+<h3>XX</h3>
+
+<p>Artistically, there is a good deal to be said for that old
+Greek friend of ours, the Messenger; and I dare say you blame me
+for having, as it were, made you an eye-witness of the death of
+the undergraduates, when I might so easily have brought some one
+in to tell you about it after it was all over . . . Some one?
+Whom? Are you not begging the question? I admit there were, that
+evening in Oxford, many people who, when they went home from the
+river, gave vivid reports of what they had seen. But among them
+was none who had seen more than a small portion of the whole
+affair. Certainly, I might have pieced together a dozen of the
+various accounts, and put them all into the mouth of one person.
+But credibility is not enough for Clio's servant. I aim at truth.
+And so, as I by my Zeus-given incorporeity was the one person who
+had a good view of the scene at large, you must pardon me for
+having withheld the veil of indirect narration.</p>
+
+<p>"Too late," you will say if I offer you a Messenger now. But
+it was not thus that Mrs. Batch and Katie greeted Clarence when,
+lamentably soaked with rain, that Messenger appeared on the
+threshold of the kitchen. Katie was laying the table-cloth for
+seven o'clock supper. Neither she nor her mother was
+clairvoyante. Neither of them knew what had been happening. But,
+as Clarence had not come home since afternoon-school, they had
+assumed that he was at the river; and they now assumed from the
+look of him that something very unusual had been happening there.
+As to what this was, they were not quickly enlightened. Our old
+Greek friend, after a run of twenty miles, would always reel off
+a round hundred of graphic verses unimpeachable in scansion.
+Clarence was of degenerate mould. He collapsed on to a chair, and
+sat there gasping; and his recovery was rather delayed than
+hastened by his mother, who, in her solicitude, patted him
+vigorously between the shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>"Let him alone, mother, do," cried Katie, wringing her
+hands.</p>
+
+<p>"The Duke, he's drowned himself," presently gasped the
+Messenger.</p>
+
+<p>Blank verse, yes, so far as it went; but delivered without the
+slightest regard for rhythm, and composed in stark defiance of
+those laws which should regulate the breaking of bad news. You,
+please remember, were carefully prepared by me against the shock
+of the Duke's death; and yet I hear you still mumbling that I
+didn't let the actual fact be told you by a Messenger. Come, do
+you really think your grievance against me is for a moment
+comparable with that of Mrs. and Miss Batch against Clarence? Did
+you feel faint at any moment in the foregoing chapter? No. But
+Katie, at Clarence's first words, fainted outright. Think a
+little more about this poor girl senseless on the floor, and a
+little less about your own paltry discomfort.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Batch herself did not faint, but she was too much
+overwhelmed to notice that her daughter had done so.</p>
+
+<p>"No! Mercy on us! Speak, boy, can't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"The river," gasped Clarence. "Threw himself in. On purpose. I
+was on the towing-path. Saw him do it."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Batch gave a low moan.</p>
+
+<p>"Katie's fainted," added the Messenger, not without a touch of
+personal pride.</p>
+
+<p>"Saw him do it," Mrs. Batch repeated dully. "Katie," she said,
+in the same voice, "get up this instant." But Katie did not hear
+her.</p>
+
+<p>The mother was loth to have been outdone in sensibility by the
+daughter, and it was with some temper that she hastened to make
+the necessary ministrations.</p>
+
+<p>"Where am I?" asked Katie, at length, echoing the words used
+in this very house, at a similar juncture, on this very day, by
+another lover of the Duke.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, you may well ask that," said Mrs. Batch, with more force
+than reason. "A mother's support indeed! Well! And as for you,"
+she cried, turning on Clarence, "sending her off like that with
+your--" She was face to face again with the tragic news. Katie,
+remembering it simultaneously, uttered a loud sob. Mrs. Batch
+capped this with a much louder one. Clarence stood before the
+fire, slowly revolving on one heel. His clothes steamed
+briskly.</p>
+
+<p>"It isn't true," said Katie. She rose and came uncertainly
+towards her brother, half threatening, half imploring.</p>
+
+<p>"All right," said he, strong in his advantage. "Then I shan't
+tell either of you anything more."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Batch through her tears called Katie a bad girl, and
+Clarence a bad boy.</p>
+
+<p>"Where did you get THEM?" asked Clarence, pointing to the
+ear-rings worn by his sister.</p>
+
+<p>"HE gave me them," said Katie. Clarence curbed the brotherly
+intention of telling her she looked "a sight" in them.</p>
+
+<p>She stood staring into vacancy. "He didn't love HER," she
+murmured. "That was all over. I'll vow he didn't love HER."</p>
+
+<p>"Who d'you mean by her?" asked Clarence.</p>
+
+<p>"That Miss Dobson that's been here."</p>
+
+<p>"What's her other name?"</p>
+
+<p>"Zuleika," Katie enunciated with bitterest abhorrence.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, then, he jolly well did love her. That's the name he
+called out just before he threw himself in. 'Zuleika!'--like
+that," added the boy, with a most infelicitous attempt to
+reproduce the Duke's manner.</p>
+
+<p>Katie had shut her eyes, and clenched her hands.</p>
+
+<p>"He hated her. He told me so," she said.</p>
+
+<p>"I was always a mother to him," sobbed Mrs. Batch, rocking to
+and fro on a chair in a corner. "Why didn't he come to me in his
+trouble?"</p>
+
+<p>"He kissed me," said Katie, as in a trance. "No other man
+shall ever do that."</p>
+
+<p>"He did?" exclaimed Clarence. "And you let him?"</p>
+
+<p>"You wretched little whipper-snapper!" flashed Katie.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I am, am I?" shouted Clarence, squaring up to his sister.
+"Say that again, will you?"</p>
+
+<p>There is no doubt that Katie would have said it again, had not
+her mother closed the scene with a prolonged wail of censure.</p>
+
+<p>"You ought to be thinking of ME, you wicked girl," said Mrs.
+Batch. Katie went across, and laid a gentle hand on her mother's
+shoulder. This, however, did but evoke a fresh flood of tears.
+Mrs. Batch had a keen sense of the deportment owed to tragedy.
+Katie, by bickering with Clarence, had thrown away the advantage
+she had gained by fainting. Mrs. Batch was not going to let her
+retrieve it by shining as a consoler. I hasten to add that this
+resolve was only sub-conscious in the good woman. Her grief was
+perfectly sincere. And it was not the less so because with it was
+mingled a certain joy in the greatness of the calamity. She came
+of good sound peasant stock. Abiding in her was the spirit of
+those old songs and ballads in which daisies and daffodillies and
+lovers' vows and smiles are so strangely inwoven with tombs and
+ghosts, with murders and all manner of grim things. She had not
+had education enough to spoil her nerve. She was able to take the
+rough with the smooth. She was able to take all life for her
+province, and death too.</p>
+
+<p>The Duke was dead. This was the stupendous outline she had
+grasped: now let it be filled in. She had been stricken: now let
+her be racked. Soon after her daughter had moved away, Mrs. Batch
+dried her eyes, and bade Clarence tell just what had happened.
+She did not flinch. Modern Katie did.</p>
+
+<p>Such had ever been the Duke's magic in the household that
+Clarence had at first forgotten to mention that any one else was
+dead. Of this omission he was glad. It promised him a new lease
+of importance. Meanwhile, he described in greater detail the
+Duke's plunge. Mrs. Batch's mind, while she listened, ran ahead,
+dog-like, into the immediate future, ranging around: "the family"
+would all be here to-morrow, the Duke's own room must be "put
+straight" to-night, "I was of speaking" . . .</p>
+
+<p>Katie's mind harked back to the immediate past--to the tone of
+that voice, to that hand which she had kissed, to the touch of
+those lips on her brow, to the door-step she had made so white
+for him, day by day . . .</p>
+
+<p>The sound of the rain had long ceased. There was the noise of
+a gathering wind.</p>
+
+<p>"Then in went a lot of others," Clarence was saying. "And they
+all shouted out 'Zuleika!' just like he did. Then a lot more went
+in. First I thought it was some sort of fun. Not it!" And he told
+how, by inquiries further down the river, he had learned the
+extent of the disaster. "Hundreds and hundreds of them--ALL of
+them," he summed up. "And all for the love of HER," he added, as
+with a sulky salute to Romance.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Batch had risen from her chair, the better to cope with
+such magnitude. She stood with wide-spread arms, silent, gaping.
+She seemed, by sheer force of sympathy, to be expanding to the
+dimensions of a crowd.</p>
+
+<p>Intensive Katie recked little of all these other deaths. "I
+only know," she said, "that he hated her."</p>
+
+<p>"Hundreds and hundreds--ALL," intoned Mrs. Batch, then gave a
+sudden start, as having remembered something. Mr. Noaks! He, too!
+She staggered to the door, leaving her actual offspring to their
+own devices, and went heavily up the stairs, her mind scampering
+again before her. . . . If he was safe and sound, dear young
+gentleman, heaven be praised! and she would break the awful news
+to him, very gradually. If not, there was another "family" to be
+solaced; "I'm a mother myself, Mrs. Noaks" . . .</p>
+
+<p>The sitting-room door was closed. Twice did Mrs. Batch tap on
+the panel, receiving no answer. She went in, gazed around in the
+dimness, sighed deeply, and struck a match. Conspicuous on the
+table lay a piece of paper. She bent to examine it. A piece of
+lined paper, torn from an exercise book, it was neatly inscribed
+with the words "What is Life without Love?" The final word and
+the note of interrogation were somewhat blurred, as by a tear.
+The match had burnt itself out. The landlady lit another, and
+read the legend a second time, that she might take in the full
+pathos of it. Then she sat down in the arm- chair. For some
+minutes she wept there. Then, having no more, tears, she went out
+on tip-toe, closing the door very quietly.</p>
+
+<p>As she descended the last flight of stairs, her daughter had
+just shut the front-door, and was coming along the hall.</p>
+
+<p>"Poor Mr. Noaks--he's gone," said the mother.</p>
+
+<p>"Has he?" said Katie listlessly.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes he has, you heartless girl. What's that you've got in
+your hand? Why, if it isn't the black-leading! And what have you
+been doing with that?"</p>
+
+<p>"Let me alone, mother, do," said poor Katie. She had done her
+lowly task. She had expressed her mourning, as best she could,
+there where she had been wont to express her love.</p>
+
+<p>�</p>
+
+<h3>XXI</h3>
+
+<p>And Zuleika? She had done a wise thing, and was where it was
+best that she should be.</p>
+
+<p>Her face lay upturned on the water's surface, and round it
+were the masses of her dark hair, half floating, half submerged.
+Her eyes were closed, and her lips were parted. Not Ophelia in
+the brook could have seemed more at peace.</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>"Like a creature native and indued</p>
+
+<p>Unto that element,"</p>
+
+<p>tranquil Zuleika lay.</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>Gently to and fro her tresses drifted on the water, or under
+the water went ever ravelling and unravelling. Nothing else of
+her stirred.</p>
+
+<p>What to her now the loves that she had inspired and played on?
+the lives lost for her? Little thought had she now of them. Aloof
+she lay.</p>
+
+<p>Steadily rising from the water was a thick vapour that turned
+to dew on the window-pane. The air was heavy with scent of
+violets. These are the flowers of mourning; but their scent here
+and now signified nothing; for Eau de Violettes was the
+bath-essence that Zuleika always had.</p>
+
+<p>The bath-room was not of the white-gleaming kind to which she
+was accustomed. The walls were papered, not tiled, and the bath
+itself was of japanned tin, framed in mahogany. These things, on
+the evening of her arrival at the Warden's, had rather distressed
+her. But she was the better able to bear them because of that
+well-remembered past when a bath-room was in itself a luxury
+pined for--days when a not-large and not-full can of not-hot
+water, slammed down at her bedroom door by a governess-resenting
+housemaid, was as much as the gods allowed her. And there was, to
+dulcify for her the bath of this evening, the yet sharper
+contrast with the plight she had just come home in, sopped,
+shivering, clung to by her clothes. Because this bath was not a
+mere luxury, but a necessary precaution, a sure means of
+salvation from chill, she did the more gratefully bask in it,
+till Melisande came back to her, laden with warmed towels.</p>
+
+<p>A few minutes before eight o'clock she was fully ready to go
+down to dinner, with even more than the usual glow of health, and
+hungry beyond her wont.</p>
+
+<p>Yet, as she went down, her heart somewhat misgave her. Indeed,
+by force of the wide experience she had had as a governess, she
+never did feel quite at her ease when she was staying in a
+private house: the fear of not giving satisfaction haunted her;
+she was always on her guard; the shadow of dismissal absurdly
+hovered. And to-night she could not tell herself, as she usually
+did, not to be so silly. If her grandfather knew already the
+motive by which those young men had been actuated, dinner with
+him might be a rather strained affair. He might tell her, in so
+many words, that he wished he had not invited her to Oxford.</p>
+
+<p>Through the open door of the drawing room she saw him,
+standing majestic, draped in a voluminous black gown. Her
+instinct was to run away; but this she conquered. She went
+straight in, remembering not to smile.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, ah," said the Warden, shaking a forefinger at her with
+old-world playfulness. "And what have you to say for
+yourself?"</p>
+
+<p>Relieved, she was also a trifle shocked. Was it possible that
+he, a responsible old man, could take things so lightly?</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, grand-papa," she answered, hanging her head, "what CAN I
+say? It is--it is too, too, dreadful."</p>
+
+<p>"There, there, my dear. I was but jesting. If you have had an
+agreeable time, you are forgiven for playing truant. Where have
+you been all day?"</p>
+
+<p>She saw that she had misjudged him. "I have just come from the
+river," she said gravely.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes? And did the College make its fourth bump to-night?"</p>
+
+<p>"I--I don't know, grand-papa. There was so much happening.
+It--I will tell you all about it at dinner."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, but to-night," he said, indicating his gown, "I cannot be
+with you. The bump-supper, you know. I have to preside in
+Hall."</p>
+
+<p>Zuleika had forgotten there was to be a bump-supper, and,
+though she was not very sure what a bump-supper was, she felt it
+would be a mockery to-night.</p>
+
+<p>"But grand-papa--" she began.</p>
+
+<p>"My dear, I cannot dissociate myself from the life of the
+College. And, alas," he said, looking at the clock, "I must leave
+you now. As soon as you have finished dinner, you might, if you
+would care to, come and peep down at us from the gallery. There
+is apt to be some measure of noise and racket, but all of it
+good-humoured and--boys will be boys--pardonable. Will you
+come?"</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps, grand-papa," she said awkwardly. Left alone, she
+hardly knew whether to laugh or cry. In a moment, the butler came
+to her rescue, telling her that dinner was served.</p>
+
+<p>As the figure of the Warden emerged from Salt Cellar into the
+Front Quadrangle, a hush fell on the group of gowned Fellows
+outside the Hall. Most of them had only just been told the news,
+and (such is the force of routine in an University) were still
+sceptical of it. And in face of these doubts the three or four
+dons who had been down at the river were now half ready to
+believe that there must, after all, be some mistake, and that in
+this world of illusions they had to-night been specially tricked.
+To rebut this theory, there was the notable absence of
+undergraduates. Or was this an illusion, too? Men of thought,
+agile on the plane of ideas, devils of fellows among books, they
+groped feebly in this matter of actual life and death. The sight
+of their Warden heartened them. After all, he was the responsible
+person. He was father of the flock that had strayed, and
+grandfather of the beautiful Miss Zuleika.</p>
+
+<p>Like her, they remembered not to smile in greeting him.</p>
+
+<p>"Good evening, gentlemen," he said. "The storm seems to have
+passed."</p>
+
+<p>There was a murmur of "Yes, Warden."</p>
+
+<p>"And how did our boat acquit itself?"</p>
+
+<p>There was a shuffling pause. Every one looked at the
+Sub-Warden: it was manifestly for him to break the news, or to
+report the hallucination. He was nudged forward--a large man,
+with a large beard at which he plucked nervously.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, really, Warden," he said, "we--we hardly know,"* and he
+ended with what can only be described as a giggle. He fell low in
+the esteem of his fellows.</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>*Those of my readers who are interested in athletic sports
+will remember the long controversy that raged as to whether Judas
+had actually bumped Magdalen; and they will not need to be minded
+that it was mainly through the evidence of Mr. E. T. A. Cook, who
+had been on the towing-path at the time, that the 0. U. B. C.
+decided the point in Judas' favour, and fixed the order of the
+boats for the following year accordingly.</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>Thinking of that past Sub-Warden whose fame was linked with
+the sun-dial, the Warden eyed this one keenly.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, gentlemen," he presently said, "our young men seem to
+be already at table. Shall we follow their example?" And he led
+the way up the steps.</p>
+
+<p>Already at table? The dons' dubiety toyed with this
+hypothesis. But the aspect of the Hall's interior was hard to
+explain away. Here were the three long tables, stretching white
+towards the dais, and laden with the usual crockery and cutlery,
+and with pots of flowers in honour of the occasion. And here,
+ranged along either wall, was the usual array of scouts,
+motionless, with napkins across their arms. But that was all.</p>
+
+<p>It became clear to the Warden that some organised prank or
+protest was afoot. Dignity required that he should take no heed
+whatsoever. Looking neither to the right nor to the left, stately
+he approached the dais, his Fellows to heel.</p>
+
+<p>In Judas, as in other Colleges, grace before meat is read by
+the Senior Scholar. The Judas grace (composed, they say, by
+Christopher Whitrid himself) is noted for its length and for the
+excellence of its Latinity. Who was to read it to-night? The
+Warden, having searched his mind vainly for a precedent, was
+driven to create one.</p>
+
+<p>"The Junior Fellow," he said, "will read grace."</p>
+
+<p>Blushing to the roots of his hair, and with crablike gait, Mr.
+Pedby, the Junior Fellow, went and unhooked from the wall that
+little shield of wood on which the words of the grace are carven.
+Mr. Pedby was--Mr. Pedby is--a mathematician. His treatise on the
+Higher Theory of Short Division by Decimals had already won for
+him an European reputation. Judas was--Judas is--proud of Pedby.
+Nor is it denied that in undertaking the duty thrust on him he
+quickly controlled his nerves and read the Latin out in ringing
+accents. Better for him had he not done so. The false quantities
+he made were so excruciating and so many that, while the very
+scouts exchanged glances, the dons at the high table lost all
+command of their features, and made horrible noises in the effort
+to contain themselves. The very Warden dared not look from his
+plate.</p>
+
+<p>In every breast around the high table, behind every
+shirt-front or black silk waistcoat, glowed the recognition of a
+new birth. Suddenly, unheralded, a thing of highest destiny had
+fallen into their academic midst. The stock of Common Room talk
+had to-night been re-inforced and enriched for all time. Summers
+and winters would come and go, old faces would vanish, giving
+place to new, but the story of Pedby's grace would be told
+always. Here was a tradition that generations of dons yet unborn
+would cherish and chuckle over. Something akin to awe mingled
+itself with the subsiding merriment. And the dons, having
+finished their soup, sipped in silence the dry brown sherry.</p>
+
+<p>Those who sat opposite to the Warden, with their backs to the
+void, were oblivious of the matter that had so recently teased
+them. They were conscious only of an agreeable hush, in which
+they peered down the vistas of the future, watching the tradition
+of Pedby's grace as it rolled brighter and ever brighter down to
+eternity.</p>
+
+<p>The pop of a champagne cork startled them to remembrance that
+this was a bump-supper, and a bump-supper of a peculiar kind. The
+turbot that came after the soup, the champagne that succeeded the
+sherry, helped to quicken in these men of thought the power to
+grapple with a reality. The aforesaid three or four who had been
+down at the river recovered their lost belief in the evidence of
+their eyes and ears. In the rest was a spirit of receptivity
+which, as the meal went on, mounted to conviction. The Sub-Warden
+made a second and more determined attempt to enlighten the
+Warden; but the Warden's eye met his with a suspicion so cruelly
+pointed that he again floundered and gave in.</p>
+
+<p>All adown those empty other tables gleamed the undisturbed
+cutlery, and the flowers in the pots innocently bloomed. And all
+adown either wall, unneeded but undisbanded, the scouts remained.
+Some of the elder ones stood with closed eyes and heads sunk
+forward, now and again jerking themselves erect, and blinking
+around, wondering, remembering.</p>
+
+<p>And for a while this scene was looked down on by a not
+disinterested stranger. For a while, her chin propped on her
+hands, Zuleika leaned over the rail of the gallery, just as she
+had lately leaned over the barge's rail, staring down and along.
+But there was no spark of triumph now in her eyes; only a deep
+melancholy; and in her mouth a taste as of dust and ashes. She
+thought of last night, and of all the buoyant life that this Hall
+had held. Of the Duke she thought, and of the whole vivid and
+eager throng of his fellows in love. Her will, their will, had
+been done. But. there rose to her lips the old, old question that
+withers victory--"To what end?" Her eyes ranged along the tables,
+and an appalling sense of loneliness swept over her. She turned
+away, wrapping the folds of her cloak closer across her breast.
+Not in this College only, but through and through Oxford, there
+was no heart that beat for her--no, not one, she told herself,
+with that instinct for self-torture which comes to souls in
+torment. She was utterly alone to-night in the midst of a vast
+indifference. She! She! Was it possible? Were the gods so
+merciless? Ah no, surely . . .</p>
+
+<p>Down at the high table the feast drew to its close, and very
+different was the mood of the feasters from that of the young
+woman whose glance had for a moment rested on their unromantic
+heads. Generations of undergraduates had said that Oxford would
+be all very well but for the dons. Do you suppose that the dons
+had had no answering sentiment? Youth is a very good thing to
+possess, no doubt; but it is a tiresome setting for maturity.
+Youth all around prancing, vociferating, mocking; callow and
+alien youth, having to be looked after and studied and taught, as
+though nothing but it mattered, term after term--and now, all of
+a sudden, in mid-term, peace, ataraxy, a profound and leisured
+stillness. No lectures to deliver to-morrow; no "essays" to hear
+and criticise; time for the unvexed pursuit of pure learning . .
+.</p>
+
+<p>As the Fellows passed out on their way to Common Room, there
+to tackle with a fresh appetite Pedby's grace, they paused, as
+was their wont, on the steps of the Hall, looking up at the sky,
+envisaging the weather. The wind had dropped. There was even a
+glimpse of the moon riding behind the clouds. And now, a solemn
+and plangent token of Oxford's perpetuity, the first stroke of
+Great Tom sounded.</p>
+
+<p>�</p>
+
+<h3>XXII</h3>
+
+<p>Stroke by stroke, the great familiar monody of that
+incomparable curfew rose and fell in the stillness.</p>
+
+<p>Nothing of Oxford lingers more surely than it in the memory of
+Oxford men; and to one revisiting these groves nothing is more
+eloquent of that scrupulous historic economy whereby his own
+particular past is utilised as the general present and future.
+"All's as it was, all's as it will be," says Great Tom; and that
+is what he stubbornly said on the evening I here record.</p>
+
+<p>Stroke by measured and leisured stroke, the old euphonious
+clangour pervaded Oxford, spreading out over the meadows, along
+the river, audible in Iffley. But to the dim groups gathering and
+dispersing on either bank, and to the silent workers in the
+boats, the bell's message came softened, equivocal; came as a
+requiem for these dead.</p>
+
+<p>Over the closed gates of Iffley lock, the water gushed down,
+eager for the sacrament of the sea. Among the supine in the field
+hard by, there was one whose breast bore a faint-gleaming star.
+And bending over him, looking down at him with much love and pity
+in her eyes, was the shade of Nellie O'Mora, that "fairest
+witch," to whose memory he had to-day atoned.</p>
+
+<p>And yonder, "sitting upon the river-bank o'ergrown," with
+questioning eyes, was another shade, more habituated to these
+haunts--the shade known so well to bathers "in the abandoned
+lasher," and to dancers "around the Fyfield elm in May." At the
+bell's final stroke, the Scholar Gipsy rose, letting fall on the
+water his gathered wild- flowers, and passed towards Cumnor.</p>
+
+<p>And now, duly, throughout Oxford, the gates of the Colleges
+were closed, and closed were the doors of the lodging-houses.
+Every night, for many years, at this hour precisely, Mrs. Batch
+had come out from her kitchen, to turn the key in the front-door.
+The function had long ago become automatic. To-night, however, it
+was the cue for further tears. These did not cease at her return
+to the kitchen, where she had gathered about her some sympathetic
+neighbours--women of her own age and kind, capacious of tragedy;
+women who might be relied on; founts of ejaculation, wells of
+surmise, downpours of remembered premonitions.</p>
+
+<p>With his elbows on the kitchen table, and his knuckles to his
+brow, sat Clarence, intent on belated "prep." Even an eye-witness
+of disaster may pall if he repeat his story too often. Clarence
+had noted in the last recital that he was losing his hold on his
+audience. So now he sat committing to memory the names of the
+cantons of Switzerland, and waving aside with a harsh gesture
+such questions as were still put to him by the women.</p>
+
+<p>Katie had sought refuge in the need for "putting the
+gentlemen's rooms straight," against the arrival of the two
+families to-morrow. Duster in hand, and by the light of a single
+candle that barely survived the draught from the open window, she
+moved to and fro about the Duke's room, a wan and listless
+figure, casting queerest shadows on the ceiling. There were other
+candles that she might have lit, but this ambiguous gloom suited
+her sullen humour. Yes, I am sorry to say, Katie was sullen. She
+had not ceased to mourn the Duke; but it was even more anger than
+grief that she felt at his dying. She was as sure as ever that he
+had not loved Miss Dobson; but this only made it the more
+outrageous that he had died because of her. What was there in
+this woman that men should so demean themselves for her? Katie,
+as you know, had at first been unaffected by the death of the
+undergraduates at large. But, because they too had died for
+Zuleika, she was bitterly incensed against them now. What could
+they have admired in such a woman? She didn't even look like a
+lady. Katie caught the dim reflection of herself in the mirror.
+She took the candle from the table, and examined the reflection
+closely. She was sure she was just as pretty as Miss Dobson. It
+was only the clothes that made the difference--the clothes and
+the behaviour. Katie threw back her head, and smiled brilliantly,
+hand on hip. She nodded reassuringly at herself; and the black
+pearl and the pink danced a duet. She put the candle down, and
+undid her hair, roughly parting it on one side, and letting it
+sweep down over the further eyebrow. She fixed it in that
+fashion, and posed accordingly. Now! But gradually her smile
+relaxed, and a mist came to her eyes. For she had to admit that
+even so, after all, she hadn't just that something which somehow
+Miss Dobson had. She put away from her the hasty dream she had
+had of a whole future generation of undergraduates drowning
+themselves, every one, in honour of her. She went wearily on with
+her work.</p>
+
+<p>Presently, after a last look round, she went up the creaking
+stairs, to do Mr. Noaks' room.</p>
+
+<p>She found on the table that screed which her mother had
+recited so often this evening. She put it in the waste-paper
+basket.</p>
+
+<p>Also on the table were a lexicon, a Thucydides, and some
+note-books. These she took and shelved without a tear for the
+closed labours they bore witness to.</p>
+
+<p>The next disorder that met her eye was one that gave her
+pause--seemed, indeed, to transfix her.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Noaks had never, since he came to lodge here, possessed
+more than one pair of boots. This fact had been for her a lasting
+source of annoyance; for it meant that she had to polish Mr.
+Noaks' boots always in the early morning, when there were so many
+other things to be done, instead of choosing her own time. Her
+annoyance had been all the keener because Mr. Noaks' boots more
+than made up in size for what they lacked in number. Either of
+them singly took more time and polish than any other pair
+imaginable. She would have recognised them, at a glance,
+anywhere. Even so now, it was at a glance that she recognised the
+toes of them protruding from beneath the window-curtain. She
+dismissed the theory that Mr. Noaks might have gone utterly
+unshod to the river. She scouted the hypothesis that his ghost
+could be shod thus. By process of elimination she arrived at the
+truth. "Mr. Noaks," she said quietly, "come out of there."</p>
+
+<p>There was a slight quiver of the curtain; no more. Katie
+repeated her words. There was a pause, then a convulsion of the
+curtain. Noaks stood forth.</p>
+
+<p>Always, in polishing his boots, Katie had found herself
+thinking of him as a man of prodigious stature, well though she
+knew him to be quite tiny. Even so now, at recognition of his
+boots, she had fixed her eyes to meet his, when he should emerge,
+a full yard too high. With a sharp drop she focussed him.</p>
+
+<p>"By what right," he asked, "do you come prying about my
+room?"</p>
+
+<p>This was a stroke so unexpected that it left Katie mute. It
+equally surprised Noaks, who had been about to throw himself on
+his knees and implore this girl not to betray him. He was quick,
+though, to clinch his advantage.</p>
+
+<p>"This," he said, "is the first time I have caught you. Let it
+be the last."</p>
+
+<p>Was this the little man she had so long despised, and so
+superciliously served? His very smallness gave him an air of
+concentrated force. She remembered having read that all the
+greatest men in history had been of less than the middle height.
+And--oh, her heart leapt--here was the one man who had scorned to
+die for Miss Dobson. He alone had held out against the folly of
+his fellows. Sole and splendid survivor he stood, rock-footed,
+before her. And impulsively she abased herself, kneeling at his
+feet as at the great double altar of some dark new faith.</p>
+
+<p>"You are great, sir, you are wonderful," she said, gazing up
+to him, rapt. It was the first time she had ever called him
+"sir."</p>
+
+<p>It is easier, as Michelet suggested, for a woman to change her
+opinion of a man than for him to change his opinion of himself.
+Noaks, despite the presence of mind he had shown a few moments
+ago, still saw himself as he had seen himself during the past
+hours: that is, as an arrant little coward--one who by his fear
+to die had put himself outside the pale of decent manhood. He had
+meant to escape from the house at dead of night and, under an
+assumed name, work his passage out to Australia --a land which
+had always made strong appeal to his imagination. No one, he had
+reflected, would suppose because his body was not retrieved from
+the water that he had not perished with the rest. And he had
+looked to Australia to make a man of him yet: in Encounter Bay,
+perhaps, or in the Gulf of Carpentaria, he might yet end
+nobly.</p>
+
+<p>Thus Katie's behaviour was as much an embarrassment as a
+relief; and he asked her in what way he was great and
+wonderful.</p>
+
+<p>"Modest, like all heroes!" she cried, and, still kneeling,
+proceeded to sing his praises with a so infectious fervour that
+Noaks did begin to feel he had done a fine thing in not dying.
+After all, was it not moral cowardice as much as love that had
+tempted him to die? He had wrestled with it, thrown it. "Yes,"
+said he, when her rhapsody was over, "perhaps I am modest."</p>
+
+<p>"And that is why you hid yourself just now?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," he gladly said. "I hid myself for the same reason," he
+added, "when I heard your mother's footstep."</p>
+
+<p>"But," she faltered, with a sudden doubt, "that bit of writing
+which Mother found on the table--"</p>
+
+<p>"That? Oh, that was only a general reflection, copied out of a
+book."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, won't poor Mother be glad when she knows!"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't want her to know," said Noaks, with a return of
+nervousness. "You mustn't tell any one. I--the fact is--"</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, that is so like you!" the girl said tenderly. "I suppose
+it was your modesty that all this while blinded me. Please, sir,
+I have a confession to make to you. Never till to-night have I
+loved you."</p>
+
+<p>Exquisite was the shock of these words to one who, not without
+reason, had always assumed that no woman would ever love him.
+Before he knew what he was doing, he had bent down and kissed the
+sweet upturned face. It was the first kiss he had ever given
+outside his family circle. It was an artless and a resounding
+kiss.</p>
+
+<p>He started back, dazed. What manner of man, he wondered, was
+he? A coward, piling profligacy on poltroonery? Or a hero,
+claiming exemption from moral law? What was done could not be
+undone; but it could be righted. He drew off from the little
+finger of his left hand that iron ring which, after a twinge of
+rheumatism, he had to-day resumed.</p>
+
+<p>"Wear it," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"You mean--?" She leapt to her feet.</p>
+
+<p>"That we are engaged. I hope you don't think we have any
+choice?"</p>
+
+<p>She clapped her hands, like the child she was, and adjusted
+the ring.</p>
+
+<p>"It is very pretty," she said.</p>
+
+<p>"It is very simple," he answered lightly. "But," he added,
+with a change of tone, "it is very durable. And that is the
+important thing. For I shall not be in a position to marry before
+I am forty."</p>
+
+<p>A shadow of disappointment hovered over Katie's clear young
+brow, but was instantly chased away by the thought that to be
+engaged was almost as splendid as to be married.</p>
+
+<p>"Recently," said her lover, "I meditated leaving Oxford for
+Australia. But now that you have come into my life, I am
+compelled to drop that notion, and to carve out the career I had
+first set for myself. A year hence, if I get a Second in
+Greats--and I SHALL" he said, with a fierce look that entranced
+her--"I shall have a very good chance of an assistant-mastership
+in a good private school. In eighteen years, if I am
+careful--and, with you waiting for me, I SHALL be careful--my
+savings will enable me to start a small school of my own, and to
+take a wife. Even then it would be more prudent to wait another
+five years, no doubt. But there was always a streak of madness in
+the Noakses. I say 'Prudence to the winds!'"</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, don't say that!" exclaimed Katie, laying a hand on his
+sleeve.</p>
+
+<p>"You are right. Never hesitate to curb me. And," he said,
+touching the ring, "an idea has just occurred to me. When the
+time comes, let this be the wedding-ring. Gold is gaudy--not at
+all the thing for a schoolmaster's bride. It is a pity," he
+muttered, examining her through his spectacles, "that your hair
+is so golden. A schoolmaster's bride should--Good heavens! Those
+ear-rings! Where did you get THEM?"</p>
+
+<p>"They were given to me to-day," Katie faltered. "The Duke gave
+me them."</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed?"</p>
+
+<p>"Please, sir, he gave me them as a memento."</p>
+
+<p>"And that memento shall immediately be handed over to his
+executors."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"I should think so!" was on the tip of Noaks' tongue, but
+suddenly he ceased to see the pearls as trinkets finite and
+inapposite--saw them, in a flash, as things transmutable by sale
+hereafter into desks, forms, black-boards, maps, lockers,
+cubicles, gravel soil, diet unlimited, and special attention to
+backward pupils. Simultaneously, he saw how mean had been his
+motive for repudiating the gift. What more despicable than
+jealousy of a man deceased? What sillier than to cast pearls
+before executors? Sped by nothing but the pulse of his hot youth,
+he had wooed and won this girl. Why flinch from her unsought
+dowry?</p>
+
+<p>He told her his vision. Her eyes opened wide to it. "And oh,"
+she cried, "then we can be married as soon as you take your
+degree!"</p>
+
+<p>He bade her not be so foolish. Who ever heard of a head-master
+aged three-and-twenty? What parent or guardian would trust a
+stripling? The engagement must run its course. "And," he said,
+fidgeting, "do you know that I have hardly done any reading
+to-day?"</p>
+
+<p>"You want to read NOW--TO-NIGHT?"</p>
+
+<p>"I must put in a good two hours. Where are the books that were
+on my table?"</p>
+
+<p>Reverently--he was indeed a king of men--she took the books
+down from the shelf, and placed them where she had found them.
+And she knew not which thrilled her the more--the kiss he gave
+her at parting, or the tone in which he told her that the one
+thing he could not and would not stand was having his books
+disturbed.</p>
+
+<p>Still less than before attuned to the lugubrious session
+downstairs, she went straight up to her attic, and did a little
+dance there in the dark. She threw open the lattice of the
+dormer-window, and leaned out, smiling, throbbing.</p>
+
+<p>The Emperors, gazing up, saw her happy, and wondered; saw
+Noaks' ring on her finger, and would fain have shaken their grey
+heads.</p>
+
+<p>Presently she was aware of a protrusion from the window
+beneath hers. The head of her beloved! Fondly she watched it,
+wished she could reach down to stroke it. She loved him for
+having, after all, left his books. It was sweet to be his excuse.
+Should she call softly to him? No, it might shame him to be
+caught truant. He had already chidden her for prying. So she did
+but gaze down on his head silently, wondering whether in eighteen
+years it would be bald, wondering whether her own hair would
+still have the fault of being golden. Most of all, she wondered
+whether he loved her half so much as she loved him.</p>
+
+<p>This happened to be precisely what he himself was wondering.
+Not that he wished himself free. He was one of those in whom the
+will does not, except under very great pressure, oppose the
+conscience. What pressure here? Miss Batch was a superior girl;
+she would grace any station in life. He had always been rather in
+awe of her. It was a fine thing to be suddenly loved by her, to
+be in a position to over-rule her every whim. Plighting his
+troth, he had feared she would be an encumbrance, only to find
+she was a lever. But--was he deeply in love with her? How was it
+that he could not at this moment recall her features, or the tone
+of her voice, while of deplorable Miss Dobson, every lineament,
+every accent, so vividly haunted him? Try as he would to beat off
+these memories, he failed, and--some very great pressure
+here!--was glad he failed; glad though he found himself relapsing
+to the self-contempt from which Miss Batch had raised him. He
+scorned himself for being alive. And again, he scorned himself
+for his infidelity. Yet he was glad he could not forget that
+face, that voice--that queen. She had smiled at him when she
+borrowed the ring. She had said "Thank you." Oh, and now, at this
+very moment, sleeping or waking, actually she was somewhere--she!
+herself! This was an incredible, an indubitable, an all-magical
+fact for the little fellow.</p>
+
+<p>From the street below came a faint cry that was as the cry of
+his own heart, uttered by her own lips. Quaking, he peered down,
+and dimly saw, over the way, a cloaked woman.</p>
+
+<p>She--yes, it was she herself--came gliding to the middle of
+the road, gazing up at him.</p>
+
+<p>"At last!" he heard her say. His instinct was to hide himself
+from the queen he had not died for. Yet he could not move.</p>
+
+<p>"Or," she quavered, "are you a phantom sent to mock me?
+Speak!"</p>
+
+<p>"Good evening," he said huskily.</p>
+
+<p>"I knew," she murmured, "I knew the gods were not so cruel. Oh
+man of my need," she cried, stretching out her arms to him, "oh
+heaven-sent, I see you only as a dark outline against the light
+of your room. But I know you. Your name is Noaks, isn't it?
+Dobson is mine. I am your Warden's grand-daughter. I am faint and
+foot-sore. I have ranged this desert city in search of--of YOU.
+Let me hear from your own lips that you love me. Tell me in your
+own words--" She broke off with a little scream, and did not
+stand with forefinger pointed at him, gazing, gasping.</p>
+
+<p>"Listen, Miss Dobson," he stammered, writhing under what he
+took to be the lash of her irony. "Give me time to explain. You
+see me here--"</p>
+
+<p>"Hush," she cried, "man of my greater, my deeper and nobler
+need! Oh hush, ideal which not consciously I was out for
+to-night--ideal vouchsafed to me by a crowning mercy! I sought a
+lover, I find a master. I sought but a live youth, was blind to
+what his survival would betoken. Oh master, you think me light
+and wicked. You stare coldly down at me through your spectacles,
+whose glint I faintly discern now that the moon peeps forth. You
+would be readier to forgive me the havoc I have wrought if you
+could for the life of you understand what charm your friends
+found in me. You marvel, as at the skull of Helen of Troy. No,
+you don't think me hideous: you simply think me plain. There was
+a time when I thought YOU plain--you whose face, now that the
+moon shines full on it, is seen to be of a beauty that is
+flawless without being insipid. Oh that I were a glove upon that
+hand, that I might touch that cheek! You shudder at the notion of
+such contact. My voice grates on you. You try to silence me with
+frantic though exquisite gestures, and with noises inarticulate
+but divine. I bow to your will, master. Chasten me with your
+tongue."</p>
+
+<p>"I am not what you think me," gibbered Noaks. "I was not
+afraid to die for you. I love you. I was on my way to the river
+this afternoon, but I--I tripped and sprained my ankle, and--and
+jarred my spine. They carried me back here. I am still very weak.
+I can't put my foot to the ground. As soon as I can--"</p>
+
+<p>Just then Zuleika heard a little sharp sound which, for the
+fraction of an instant, before she knew it to be a clink of metal
+on the pavement, she thought was the breaking of the heart within
+her. Looking quickly down, she heard a shrill girlish laugh
+aloft. Looking quickly up, she descried at the unlit window above
+her lover's a face which she remembered as that of the
+land-lady's daughter.</p>
+
+<p>"Find it, Miss Dobson," laughed the girl. "Crawl for it. It
+can't have rolled far, and it's the only engagement-ring you'll
+get from HIM," she said, pointing to the livid face twisted
+painfully up at her from the lower window. "Grovel for it, Miss
+Dobson. Ask him to step down and help you. Oh, he can! That was
+all lies about his spine and ankle. Afraid, that's what he was--I
+see it all now--afraid of the water. I wish you'd found him as I
+did--skulking behind the curtain. Oh, you're welcome to him."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't listen," Noaks cried down. "Don't listen to that
+person. I admit I have trifled with her affections. This is her
+revenge--these wicked untruths--these--these--"</p>
+
+<p>Zuleika silenced him with a gesture. "Your tone to me," she
+said up to Katie, "is not without offence; but the stamp of truth
+is on what you tell me. We have both been deceived in this man,
+and are, in some sort, sisters."</p>
+
+<p>"Sisters?" cried Katie. "Your sisters are the snake and the
+spider, though neither of them wishes it known. I loathe you. And
+the Duke loathed you, too."</p>
+
+<p>"What's that?" gasped Zuleika.</p>
+
+<p>"Didn't he tell you? He told me. And I warrant he told you,
+too."</p>
+
+<p>"He died for love of me: d'you hear?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, you'd like people to think so, wouldn't you? Does a man
+who loves a woman give away the keepsake she gave him? Look!"
+Katie leaned forward, pointing to her ear-rings. "He loved ME,"
+she cried. He put them in with his own hands--told me to wear
+them always. And he kissed me--kissed me good-bye in the street,
+where every one could see. He kissed me," she sobbed. "No other
+man shall ever do that."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, that he did!" said a voice level with Zuleika. It was the
+voice of Mrs. Batch, who a few moments ago had opened the door
+for her departing guests.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, that he did!" echoed the guests.</p>
+
+<p>"Never mind them, Miss Dobson," cried Noaks, and at the sound
+of his voice Mrs. Batch rushed into the middle of the road, to
+gaze up. "_I_ love you. Think what you will of me. I--"</p>
+
+<p>"You!" flashed Zuleika. "As for you, little Sir Lily Liver,
+leaning out there, and, I frankly tell you, looking like nothing
+so much as a gargoyle hewn by a drunken stone-mason for the
+adornment of a Methodist Chapel in one of the vilest suburbs of
+Leeds or Wigan, I do but felicitate the river-god and his nymphs
+that their water was saved to-day by your cowardice from the
+contamination of your plunge."</p>
+
+<p>"Shame on you, Mr. Noaks," said Mrs. Batch, "making believe
+you were dead--"</p>
+
+<p>"Shame!" screamed Clarence, who had darted out into the
+fray.</p>
+
+<p>"I found him hiding behind the curtain," chimed in Katie.</p>
+
+<p>"And I a mother to him!" said Mrs. Batch, shaking her fist.
+"'What is life without love?' indeed! Oh, the cowardly,
+underhand--"</p>
+
+<p>"Wretch," prompted her cronies.</p>
+
+<p>"Let's kick him out of the house!" suggested Clarence, dancing
+for joy.</p>
+
+<p>Zuleika, smiling brilliantly down at the boy, said "Just you
+run up and fight him!"</p>
+
+<p>"Right you are," he answered, with a look of knightly
+devotion, and darted back into the house.</p>
+
+<p>"No escape!" she cried up to Noaks. "You've got to fight him
+now. He and you are just about evenly matched, I fancy."</p>
+
+<p>But, grimly enough, Zuleika's estimate was never put to the
+test. Is it harder for a coward to fight with his fists than to
+kill himself? Or again, is it easier for him to die than to
+endure a prolonged cross-fire of women's wrath and scorn? This I
+know: that in the life of even the least and meanest of us there
+is somewhere one fine moment--one high chance not missed. I like
+to think it was by operation of this law that Noaks had now
+clambered out upon the window-sill, silencing, sickening,
+scattering like chaff the women beneath him.</p>
+
+<p>He was already not there when Clarence bounded into the room.
+"Come on!" yelled the boy, first thrusting his head behind the
+door, then diving beneath the table, then plucking aside either
+window-curtain, vowing vengeance.</p>
+
+<p>Vengeance was not his. Down on the road without, not yet
+looked at but by the steadfast eyes of the Emperors, the last of
+the undergraduates lay dead; and fleet-footed Zuleika, with her
+fingers still pressed to her ears, had taken full toll now.</p>
+
+<p>�</p>
+
+<h3>XXIII</h3>
+
+<p>Twisting and turning in her flight, with wild eyes that
+fearfully retained the image of that small man gathering himself
+to spring, Zuleika found herself suddenly where she could no
+further go.</p>
+
+<p>She was in that grim ravine by which you approach New College.
+At sight of the great shut gate before her, she halted, and
+swerved to the wall. She set her brow and the palms of her hands
+against the cold stones. She threw back her head, and beat the
+stones with her fists.</p>
+
+<p>It was not only what she had seen, it was what she had barely
+saved herself from seeing, and what she had not quite saved
+herself from hearing, that she strove so piteously to forget. She
+was sorrier for herself, angrier, than she had been last night
+when the Duke laid hands on her. Why should every day have a
+horrible ending? Last night she had avenged herself. To-night's
+outrage was all the more foul and mean because of its certain
+immunity. And the fact that she had in some measure brought it on
+herself did but whip her rage. What a fool she had been to taunt
+the man! Yet no, how could she have foreseen that he would--do
+THAT? How could she have guessed that he, who had not dared
+seemly death for her in the gentle river, would dare--THAT?</p>
+
+<p>She shuddered the more as she now remembered that this very
+day, in that very house, she had invited for her very self a
+similar fate. What if the Duke had taken her word? Strange! she
+wouldn't have flinched then. She had felt no horror at the notion
+of such a death. And thus she now saw Noaks' conduct in a new
+light--saw that he had but wished to prove his love, not at all
+to affront her. This understanding quickly steadied her nerves.
+She did not need now to forget what she had seen; and, not
+needing to forget it--thus are our brains fashioned--she was able
+to forget it.</p>
+
+<p>But by removal of one load her soul was but bared for a more
+grievous other. Her memory harked back to what had preceded the
+crisis. She recalled those moments of doomed rapture in which her
+heart had soared up to the apocalyptic window--recalled how, all
+the while she was speaking to the man there, she had been chafed
+by the inadequacy of language. Oh, how much more she had meant
+than she could express! Oh, the ecstasy of that self-surrender!
+And the brevity of it! the sudden odious awakening! Thrice in
+this Oxford she had been duped. Thrice all that was fine and
+sweet in her had leapt forth, only to be scourged back into
+hiding. Poor heart inhibited! She gazed about her. The stone
+alley she had come into, the terrible shut gate, were for her a
+visible symbol of the destiny she had to put up with. Wringing
+her hands, she hastened along the way she had come. She vowed she
+would never again set foot in Oxford. She wished herself out of
+the hateful little city to-night. She even wished herself
+dead.</p>
+
+<p>She deserved to suffer, you say? Maybe. I merely state that
+she did suffer.</p>
+
+<p>Emerging into Catherine Street, she knew whereabouts she was,
+and made straight for Judas, turning away her eyes as she skirted
+the Broad, that place of mocked hopes and shattered ideals.</p>
+
+<p>Coming into Judas Street, she remembered the scene of
+yesterday--the happy man with her, the noise of the vast happy
+crowd. She suffered in a worse form what she had suffered in the
+gallery of the Hall. For now--did I not say she was not without
+imagination?--her self-pity was sharpened by remorse for the
+hundreds of homes robbed. She realised the truth of what the poor
+Duke had once said to her: she was a danger in the world . . .
+Aye, and all the more dire now. What if the youth of all Europe
+were moved by Oxford's example? That was a horribly possible
+thing. It must be reckoned with. It must be averted. She must not
+show herself to men. She must find some hiding-place, and there
+abide. Were this a hardship? she asked herself. Was she not
+sickened for ever of men's homage? And was it not clear now that
+the absorbing need in her soul, the need to love, would
+never--except for a brief while, now and then, and by an
+unfortunate misunderstanding--be fulfilled?</p>
+
+<p>So long ago that you may not remember, I compared her
+favourably with the shepherdess Marcella, and pleaded her
+capacity for passion as an excuse for her remaining at large. I
+hope you will now, despite your rather evident animus against
+her, set this to her credit: that she did, so soon as she
+realised the hopelessness of her case, make just that decision
+which I blamed Marcella for not making at the outset. It was as
+she stood on the Warden's door-step that she decided to take the
+veil.</p>
+
+<p>With something of a conventual hush in her voice, she said to
+the butler, "Please tell my maid that we are leaving by a very
+early train to-morrow, and that she must pack my things
+to-night."</p>
+
+<p>"Very well, Miss," said the butler. "The Warden," he added,
+"is in the study, Miss, and was asking for you."</p>
+
+<p>She could face her grandfather without a tremour--now. She
+would hear meekly whatever reproaches he might have for her, but
+their sting was already drawn by the surprise she had in store
+for him.</p>
+
+<p>It was he who seemed a trifle nervous. In his</p>
+
+<p>"Well, did you come and peep down from the gallery?" there was
+a distinct tremour.</p>
+
+<p>Throwing aside her cloak, she went quickly to him, and laid a
+hand on the lapel of his coat. "Poor grand-papa!" she said.</p>
+
+<p>"Nonsense, my dear child," he replied, disengaging himself. "I
+didn't give it a thought. If the young men chose to be so silly
+as to stay away, I--I--"</p>
+
+<p>"Grand-papa, haven't you been told YET?"</p>
+
+<p>"Told? I am a Gallio for such follies. I didn't inquire."</p>
+
+<p>"But (forgive me, grand-papa, if I seem to you, for the
+moment, pert) you are Warden here. It is your duty, even your
+privilege, to GUARD. Is it not? Well, I grant you the adage that
+it is useless to bolt the stable door when the horse has been
+stolen. But what shall be said of the ostler who doesn't
+know--won't even 'inquire' whether--the horse HAS been stolen,
+grand-papa?"</p>
+
+<p>"You speak in riddles, Zuleika."</p>
+
+<p>"I wish with all my heart I need not tell you the answers. I
+think I have a very real grievance against your staff--or
+whatever it is you call your subordinates here. I go so far as to
+dub them dodderers. And I shall the better justify that term by
+not shirking the duty they have left undone. The reason why there
+were no undergraduates in your Hall to-night is that they were
+all dead."</p>
+
+<p>"Dead?" he gasped. "Dead? It is disgraceful that I was not
+told. What did they die of?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of me."</p>
+
+<p>"Of you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. I am an epidemic, grand-papa, a scourge, such as the
+world has not known. Those young men drowned themselves for love
+of me."</p>
+
+<p>He came towards her. "Do you realise, girl, what this means to
+me? I am an old man. For more than half a century I have known
+this College. To it, when my wife died, I gave all that there was
+of heart left in me. For thirty years I have been Warden; and in
+that charge has been all my pride. I have had no thought but for
+this great College, its honour and prosperity. More than once
+lately have I asked myself whether my eyes were growing dim, my
+hand less steady. 'No' was my answer, and again 'No.' And thus it
+is that I have lingered on to let Judas be struck down from its
+high eminence, shamed in the eyes of England--a College for ever
+tainted, and of evil omen." He raised his head. "The disgrace to
+myself is nothing. I care not how parents shall rage against me,
+and the Heads of other Colleges make merry over my decrepitude.
+It is because you have wrought the downfall of Judas that I am
+about to lay my undying curse on you."</p>
+
+<p>"You mustn't do that!" she cried. "It would be a sort of
+sacrilege. I am going to be a nun. Besides, why should you? I can
+quite well understand your feeling for Judas. But how is Judas
+more disgraced than any other College? If it were only the Judas
+undergraduates who had--"</p>
+
+<p>"There were others?" cried the Warden. "How many?"</p>
+
+<p>"All. All the boys from all the Colleges."</p>
+
+<p>The Warden heaved a deep sigh. "Of course," he said, "this
+changes the aspect of the whole matter. I wish you had made it
+clear at once. You gave me a very great shock," he said sinking
+into his arm-chair, "and I have not yet recovered. You must study
+the art of exposition."</p>
+
+<p>"That will depend on the rules of the convent."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, I forgot that you were going into a convent. Anglican, I
+hope?"</p>
+
+<p>Anglican, she supposed.</p>
+
+<p>"As a young man," he said, "I saw much of dear old Dr. Pusey.
+It might have somewhat reconciled him to my marriage if he had
+known that my grand-daughter would take the veil." He adjusted
+his glasses, and looked at her. "Are you sure you have a
+vocation?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. I want to be out of the world. I want to do no more
+harm."</p>
+
+<p>He eyed her musingly. "That," he said, "is rather a revulsion
+than a vocation. I remember that I ventured to point out to Dr.
+Pusey the difference between those two things, when he was almost
+persuading me to enter a Brotherhood founded by one of his
+friends. It may be that the world would be well rid of you, my
+dear child. But it is not the world only that we must consider.
+Would you grace the recesses of the Church?"</p>
+
+<p>"I could but try," said Zuleika.</p>
+
+<p>"'You could but try' are the very words Dr. Pusey used to me.
+I ventured to say that in such a matter effort itself was a
+stigma of unfitness. For all my moods of revulsion, I knew that
+my place was in the world. I stayed there."</p>
+
+<p>"But suppose, grand-papa"--and, seeing in fancy the vast
+agitated flotilla of crinolines, she could not forbear a
+smile--"suppose all the young ladies of that period had drowned
+themselves for love of you?"</p>
+
+<p>Her smile seemed to nettle the Warden. "I was greatly
+admired," he said. "Greatly," he repeated.</p>
+
+<p>"And you liked that, grand-papa?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, my dear. Yes, I am afraid I did. But I never encouraged
+it."</p>
+
+<p>"Your own heart was never touched?"</p>
+
+<p>"Never, until I met Laura Frith."</p>
+
+<p>"Who was she?"</p>
+
+<p>"She was my future wife."</p>
+
+<p>"And how was it you singled her out from the rest? Was she
+very beautiful?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. It cannot be said that she was beautiful. Indeed, she was
+accounted plain. I think it was her great dignity that attracted
+me. She did not smile archly at me, nor shake her ringlets. In
+those days it was the fashion for young ladies to embroider
+slippers for such men in holy orders as best pleased their fancy.
+I received hundreds-- thousands--of such slippers. But never a
+pair from Laura Frith."</p>
+
+<p>"She did not love you?" asked Zuleika, who had seated herself
+on the floor at her grandfather's feet.</p>
+
+<p>I concluded that she did not. It interested me very greatly.
+It fired me."</p>
+
+<p>"Was she incapable of love?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, it was notorious in her circle that she had loved often,
+but loved in vain."</p>
+
+<p>"Why did she marry you?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think she was fatigued by my importunities. She was not
+very strong. But it may be that she married me out of pique. She
+never told me. I did not inquire."</p>
+
+<p>"Yet you were very happy with her?"</p>
+
+<p>"While she lived, I was ideally happy."</p>
+
+<p>The young woman stretched out a hand, and laid it on the
+clasped hands of the old man. He sat gazing into the past. She
+was silent for a while; and in her eyes, still fixed intently on
+his face, there were tears.</p>
+
+<p>"Grand-papa dear"--but there were tears in her voice, too.</p>
+
+<p>"My child, you don't understand. If I had needed pity--"</p>
+
+<p>"I do understand--so well. I wasn't pitying you, dear, I was
+envying you a little."</p>
+
+<p>"Me?--an old man with only the remembrance of happiness?"</p>
+
+<p>"You, who have had happiness granted to you. That isn't what
+made me cry, though. I cried because I was glad. You and I, with
+all this great span of years between us, and yet--so wonderfully
+alike! I had always thought of myself as a creature utterly
+apart."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, that is how all young people think of themselves. It
+wears off. Tell me about this wonderful resemblance of ours."</p>
+
+<p>He sat attentive while she described her heart to him. But
+when, at the close of her confidences, she said, "So you see it's
+a case of sheer heredity, grand-papa," the word "Fiddlesticks!"
+would out.</p>
+
+<p>"Forgive me, my dear," he said, patting her hand. "I was very
+much interested. But I do believe young people are even more
+staggered by themselves than they were in my day. And then, all
+these grand theories they fall back on! Heredity . . . as if
+there were something to baffle us in the fact of a young woman
+liking to be admired! And as if it were passing strange of her to
+reserve her heart for a man she can respect and look up to! And
+as if a man's indifference to her were not of all things the
+likeliest to give her a sense of inferiority to him! You and I,
+my dear, may in some respects be very queer people, but in the
+matter of the affections we are ordinary enough."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh grand-papa, do you really mean that?" she cried
+eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>"At my age, a man husbands his resources. He says nothing that
+he does not really mean. The indifference between you and other
+young women is that which lay also between me and other young
+men: a special attractiveness . . . Thousands of slippers, did I
+say? Tens of thousands. I had hoarded them with a fatuous pride.
+On the evening of my betrothal I made a bonfire of them, visible
+from three counties. I danced round it all night." And from his
+old eyes darted even now the reflections of those flames.</p>
+
+<p>"Glorious!" whispered Zuleika. "But ah," she said, rising to
+her feet, "tell me no more of it--poor me! You see, it isn't a
+mere special attractiveness that _I_ have. _I_ am
+irresistible."</p>
+
+<p>"A daring statement, my child--very hard to prove."</p>
+
+<p>"Hasn't it been proved up to the hilt to-day?"</p>
+
+<p>"To-day? . . Ah, and so they did really all drown themselves
+for you? . . Dear, dear! . . The Duke--he, too?"</p>
+
+<p>"He set the example."</p>
+
+<p>"No! You don't say so! He was a greatly-gifted young man--a
+true ornament to the College. But he always seemed to me
+rather--what shall I say?--inhuman . . . I remember now that he
+did seem rather excited when he came to the concert last night
+and you weren't yet there . . . You are quite sure you were the
+cause of his death?"</p>
+
+<p>"Quite," said Zuleika, marvelling at the lie--or fib, rather:
+he had been GOING to die for her. But why not have told the
+truth? Was it possible, she wondered, that her wretched vanity
+had survived her renunciation of the world? Why had she so
+resented just now the doubt cast on that irresistibility which
+had blighted and cranked her whole life?</p>
+
+<p>"Well, my dear," said the Warden, "I confess that I am
+amazed-- astounded." Again he adjusted his glasses, and looked at
+her.</p>
+
+<p>She found herself moving slowly around the study, with the
+gait of a mannequin in a dress-maker's show-room. She tried to
+stop this; but her body seemed to be quite beyond control of her
+mind. It had the insolence to go ambling on its own account.
+"Little space you'll have in a convent cell," snarled her mind
+vindictively. Her body paid no heed whatever.</p>
+
+<p>Her grandfather, leaning back in his chair, gazed at the
+ceiling, and meditatively tapped the finger-tips of one hand
+against those of the other. "Sister Zuleika," he presently said
+to the ceiling.</p>
+
+<p>"Well? and what is there so--so ridiculous in"--but the rest
+was lost in trill after trill of laughter; and these were then
+lost in sobs.</p>
+
+<p>The Warden had risen from his chair. "My dear," he said, "I
+wasn't laughing. I was only--trying to imagine. If you really
+want to retire from--"</p>
+
+<p>"I do," moaned Zuleika.</p>
+
+<p>"Then perhaps--"</p>
+
+<p>"But I don't," she wailed.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course, you don't, my dear."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, of course?"</p>
+
+<p>"Come, you are tired, my poor child. That is very natural
+after this wonderful, this historic day. Come dry your eyes.
+There, that's better. To-morrow--"</p>
+
+<p>"I do believe you're a little proud of me."</p>
+
+<p>"Heaven forgive me, I believe I am. A grandfather's heart--
+But there, good night, my dear. Let me light your candle."</p>
+
+<p>She took her cloak, and followed him out to the hall table.
+There she mentioned that she was going away early to-morrow.</p>
+
+<p>"To the convent?" he slyly asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, don't tease me, grand-papa."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I am sorry you are going away, my dear. But perhaps, in
+the circumstances, it is best. You must come and stay here again,
+later on," he said, handing her the lit candle. "Not in
+term-time, though," he added.</p>
+
+<p>"No," she echoed, "not in term-time."</p>
+
+<p>�</p>
+
+<h3>XXIV</h3>
+
+<p>From the shifting gloom of the stair-case to the soft radiance
+cast through the open door of her bedroom was for poor Zuleika an
+almost heartening transition. She stood awhile on the threshold,
+watching Melisande dart to and fro like a shuttle across a loom.
+Already the main part of the packing seemed to have been
+accomplished. The wardrobe was a yawning void, the carpet was
+here and there visible, many of the trunks were already brimming
+and foaming over . . . Once more on the road! Somewhat as, when
+beneath the stars the great tent had been struck, and the lions
+were growling in their vans, and the horses were pawing the
+stamped grass and whinnying, and the elephants trumpeting,
+Zuleika's mother may often have felt within her a wan
+exhilaration, so now did the heart of that mother's child rise
+and flutter amidst the familiar bustle of "being off." Weary she
+was of the world, and angry she was at not being, after all, good
+enough for something better. And yet--well, at least, good-bye to
+Oxford!</p>
+
+<p>She envied Melisande, so nimbly and cheerfully laborious till
+the day should come when her betrothed had saved enough to start
+a little cafe of his own and make her his bride and dame de
+comptoir. Oh, to have a purpose, a prospect, a stake in the
+world, as this faithful soul had!</p>
+
+<p>"Can I help you at all, Melisande?" she asked, picking her way
+across the strewn floor.</p>
+
+<p>Melisande, patting down a pile of chiffon, seemed to be amused
+at such a notion. "Mademoiselle has her own art. Do I mix myself
+in that?" she cried, waving one hand towards the great malachite
+casket.</p>
+
+<p>Zuleika looked at the casket, and then very gratefully at the
+maid. Her art--how had she forgotten that? Here was solace,
+purpose. She would work as she had never worked yet. She KNEW
+that she had it in her to do better than she had ever done. She
+confessed to herself that she had too often been slack in the
+matter of practice and rehearsal, trusting her personal magnetism
+to carry her through. Only last night she had badly fumbled, more
+than once. Her bravura business with the Demon Egg-Cup had been
+simply vile. The audience hadn't noticed it, perhaps, but she
+had. Now she would perfect herself. Barely a fortnight now before
+her engagement at the Folies Bergeres! What if--no, she must not
+think of that! But the thought insisted. What if she essayed for
+Paris that which again and again she had meant to graft on to her
+repertory--the Provoking Thimble?</p>
+
+<p>She flushed at the possibility. What if her whole present
+repertory were but a passing phase in her art--a mere
+beginning--an earlier manner? She remembered how marvellously
+last night she had manipulated the ear-rings and the studs. Then
+lo! the light died out of her eyes, and her face grew rigid. That
+memory had brought other memories in its wake.</p>
+
+<p>For her, when she fled the Broad, Noaks' window had blotted
+out all else. Now she saw again that higher window, saw that girl
+flaunting her ear-rings, gibing down at her. "He put them in with
+his own hands!"--the words rang again in her ears, making her
+cheeks tingle. Oh, he had thought it a very clever thing to do,
+no doubt--a splendid little revenge, something after his own
+heart! "And he kissed me in the open street"--excellent,
+excellent! She ground her teeth. And these doings must have been
+fresh in his mind when she overtook him and walked with him to
+the house-boat! Infamous! And she had then been wearing his
+studs! She drew his attention to them when--</p>
+
+<p>Her jewel-box stood open, to receive the jewels she wore
+to-night. She went very calmly to it. There, in a corner of the
+topmost tray, rested the two great white pearls--the pearls
+which, in one way and another, had meant so much to her.</p>
+
+<p>"Melisande!"</p>
+
+<p>"Mademoiselle?"</p>
+
+<p>"When we go to Paris, would you like to make a little present
+to your fiance?"</p>
+
+<p>"Je voudrais bien, mademoiselle."</p>
+
+<p>"Then you shall give him these," said Zuleika, holding out the
+two studs.</p>
+
+<p>"Mais jamais de la vie! Chez Tourtel tout le monde le dirait
+millionaire. Un garcon de cafe qui porte au plastron des perles
+pareilles--merci!"</p>
+
+<p>Tell him he may tell every one that they were given to me by
+the late Duke of Dorset, and given by me to you, and by you to
+him."</p>
+
+<p>"Mais--" The protest died on Melisande's lips. Suddenly she
+had ceased to see the pearls as trinkets finite and
+inapposite--saw them as things presently transmutable into little
+marble tables, bocks, dominos, absinthes au sucre, shiny black
+portfolios with weekly journals in them, yellow staves with daily
+journals flapping from them, vermouths secs, vermouths cassis . .
+.</p>
+
+<p>"Mademoiselle is too amiable," she said, taking the
+pearls.</p>
+
+<p>And certainly, just then, Zuleika was looking very amiable
+indeed. The look was transient. Nothing, she reflected, could
+undo what the Duke had done. That hateful, impudent girl would
+take good care that every one should know. "He put them in with
+his own hands." HER ear-rings! "He kissed me in the public
+street. He loved me" . . . Well, he had called out "Zuleika!" and
+every one around had heard him. That was something. But how glad
+all the old women in the world would be to shake their heads and
+say "Oh, no, my dear, believe me! It wasn't anything to do with
+HER. I'm told on the very best authority," and so forth, and so
+on. She knew he had told any number of undergraduates he was
+going to die for her. But they, poor fellows, could not bear
+witness. And good heavens! If there were a doubt as to the Duke's
+motive, why not doubts as to theirs? . . But many of them had
+called out "Zuleika!" too. And of course any really impartial
+person who knew anything at all about the matter at first hand
+would be sure in his own mind that it was perfectly absurd to
+pretend that the whole thing wasn't entirely and absolutely for
+her . . . And of course some of the men must have left written
+evidence of their intention. She remembered that at The
+MacQuern's to-day was a Mr. Craddock, who had made a will in her
+favour and wanted to read it aloud to her in the middle of
+luncheon. Oh, there would be proof positive as to many of the
+men. But of the others it would be said that they died in trying
+to rescue their comrades. There would be all sorts of silly
+far-fetched theories, and downright lies that couldn't be
+disproved . . .</p>
+
+<p>"Melisande, that crackling of tissue paper is driving me mad!
+Do leave off! Can't you see that I am waiting to be
+undressed?"</p>
+
+<p>The maid hastened to her side, and with quick light fingers
+began to undress her. "Mademoiselle va bien dormir--ca se voit,"
+she purred.</p>
+
+<p>"I shan't," said Zuleika.</p>
+
+<p>Nevertheless, it was soothing to be undressed, and yet more
+soothing anon to sit merely night-gowned before the mirror,
+while, slowly and gently, strongly and strand by strand,
+Melisande brushed her hair.</p>
+
+<p>After all, it didn't so much matter what the world thought.
+Let the world whisper and insinuate what it would. To slur and
+sully, to belittle and drag down--that was what the world always
+tried to do. But great things were still great, and fair things
+still fair. With no thought for the world's opinion had these men
+gone down to the water to-day. Their deed was for her and
+themselves alone. It had sufficed them. Should it not suffice
+her? It did, oh it did. She was a wretch to have repined.</p>
+
+<p>At a gesture from her, Melisande brought to a close the
+rhythmical ministrations, and--using no tissue paper this
+time--did what was yet to be done among the trunks.</p>
+
+<p>"WE know, you and I," Zuleika whispered to the adorable
+creature in the mirror; and the adorable creature gave back her
+nod and smile.</p>
+
+<p>THEY knew, these two.</p>
+
+<p>Yet, in their happiness, rose and floated a shadow between
+them. It was the ghost of that one man who--THEY knew--had died
+irrelevantly, with a cold heart.</p>
+
+<p>Came also the horrid little ghost of one who had died late and
+unseemly.</p>
+
+<p>And now, thick and fast, swept a whole multitude of other
+ghosts, the ghosts of all them who, being dead, could not die
+again; the poor ghosts of them who had done what they could, and
+could do no more.</p>
+
+<p>No more? Was it not enough? The lady in the mirror gazed at
+the lady in the room, reproachfully at first, then--for were they
+not sisters? --relentingly, then pityingly. Each of the two
+covered her face with her hands.</p>
+
+<p>And there recurred, as by stealth, to the lady in the room a
+thought that had assailed her not long ago in Judas Street . . .
+a thought about the power of example . . .</p>
+
+<p>And now, with pent breath and fast-beating heart, she stood
+staring at the lady of the mirror, without seeing her; and now
+she wheeled round and swiftly glided to that little table on
+which stood her two books. She snatched Bradshaw.</p>
+
+<p>We always intervene between Bradshaw and any one whom we see
+consulting him. "Mademoiselle will permit me to find that which
+she seeks?" asked Melisande.</p>
+
+<p>"Be quiet," said Zuleika. We always repulse, at first, any one
+who intervenes between us and Bradshaw.</p>
+
+<p>We always end by accepting the intervention. "See if it is
+possible to go direct from here to Cambridge," said Zuleika,
+handing the book on. "If it isn't, then--well, see how to get
+there."</p>
+
+<p>We never have any confidence in the intervener. Nor is the
+intervener, when it comes to the point, sanguine. With mistrust
+mounting to exasperation Zuleika sat watching the faint and
+frantic researches of her maid.</p>
+
+<p>"Stop!" she said suddenly. "I have a much better idea. Go down
+very early to the station. See the station-master. Order me a
+special train. For ten o'clock, say."</p>
+
+<p>Rising, she stretched her arms above her head. Her lips parted
+in a yawn, met in a smile. With both hands she pushed back her
+hair from her shoulders, and twisted it into a loose knot. Very
+lightly she slipped up into bed, and very soon she was
+asleep.</p>
+
+<p>�</p>
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<pre>
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, ZULEIKA DOBSON ***
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+
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