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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END* + + + + + +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 æsthetic 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, Mélisande," she said. Like all who are wont +to appear by night before the public, she had the +habit of resting towards sunset. + Presently Mélisande 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 Bergères, +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 +séance 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 +æstheticism. 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 Elysée. 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 Vierfünfsechs-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-grâce</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 señorita. 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 pæan, aye! of +a pæan 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 pæan 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.† +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. †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>entrée<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 Elysées. 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 soufflés, 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 troisièmes +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 naïve 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 façade 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 daïs 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 daïs, 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 +daïs. + 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 Funèbre. 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 cœur!" 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 daïs. 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. "Mélisande!" she called. + A figure appeared at the window. "Mademoi- +selle désire?" + "My tricks, Mélisande! 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 +Mélisande, 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 Mélisande 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 début, 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>à 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. "Mélisande!" +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 Mélisande, 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 mediæval 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 Vört- +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 +Elysées; 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 Mélisande 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. Mélisande, +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 Café Tourtel, named Pelléas -- +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 Mélisande, 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 +Mélisande, 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 Mélisande. + + +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 Mélisande 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 Mélisande 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 Mélisande. "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 Mélisande 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 manœuvred 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. Mélisande 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'Univürsity, + Lad, thee'll not vind nôr bread nôr bed that + matches + Them as thee'll vind, roight züre, 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 Theologiæ et +Antiquæ Philosophiæ; Museum Arundelianum; +Schola Musicæ. 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 Mélisande 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 Mélisande 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 Mélisande, 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 café +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, Mélisande?" she asked, +picking her way across the strewn floor. + Mélisande, 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 Bergères! 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. + "Mélisande!" + "Mademoiselle?" + + +354 ZULEIKA DOBSON + + "When we go to Paris, would you like to make +a little present to your fiancé?" + "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 garçon de café +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 Mélisande'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. . . + "Mélisande, 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, Mélisande +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, Mélisande 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 Mélisande. + "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* + diff --git a/old/zdbsn10.zip b/old/zdbsn10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..c1c0c48 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/zdbsn10.zip diff --git a/old/zdbsn11.txt b/old/zdbsn11.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..425895e --- /dev/null +++ b/old/zdbsn11.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9066 @@ +The Project Gutenberg Etext of Zuleika Dobson, by Max Beerbohm +#5 in our series by Max Beerbohm + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world, be sure to check +the copyright laws for your country before posting these files!! + + According to Project Gutenberg's understanding of the + relevant laws in February 2000, the text of this novel + + is in the public domain in the United States + + but + + is not in the public domain + + in Australia, Canada, China, Japan, Russia, Taiwan + or any other nation that employs the "life plus + fifty years" rule (where it is expected to enter the + public domain in 2007) + + or + + in India, which employs the "life plus sixty years" + rule + + or + + in the European Union, Brazil, Switzerland or any + other nation that employs the "life plus seventy + years" rule + + or + + in Mexico, which employs the "life plus ninety- + five years" rule. + + +Please take a look at the important information in this header. +We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an +electronic path open for the next readers. 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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END* + + + +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 diff --git a/old/zdbsn11.zip b/old/zdbsn11.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..141e2cf --- /dev/null +++ b/old/zdbsn11.zip diff --git a/old/zdbsn11h.htm b/old/zdbsn11h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ece0a3a --- /dev/null +++ b/old/zdbsn11h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,9852 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<html> +<head> +<title>New File</title> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content= +"text/html; charset=iso-8859-1"> +<style type="text/css"> +<!-- +body {margin:10%; text-align:justify} +blockquote {font-size:14pt} +P {font-size:14pt} +--> +</style> +</head> +<body> +<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Zuleika Dobson, +<br>by Max Beerbohm</h1> + +<pre> +Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the +copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing +this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. + +This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project +Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: Zuleika Dobson + +Author: Max Beerbohm + +Release Date: August, 1999 [EBook #1845] +[Most recently updated: February 17, 2003] + +Edition: 11 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, ZULEIKA DOBSON *** + + + + +</pre> + +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 *** + +This file should be named zdbsn11h.htm or zdbsn11h.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, zdbsn12h.htm +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, zdbsn11ah.htm + + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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