diff options
| -rw-r--r-- | .gitattributes | 3 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 77484-0.txt | 7608 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 77484-h/77484-h.htm | 10005 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 77484-h/images/cover.jpg | bin | 0 -> 254141 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | LICENSE.txt | 11 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | README.md | 2 |
6 files changed, 17629 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/77484-0.txt b/77484-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..80bfed7 --- /dev/null +++ b/77484-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7608 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77484 *** + + + + +THE ISLE OF LIES + + + + +Transcriber’s Notes + +Obvious typographical errors have been silently corrected. Variations +in hyphenation have been standardised where appropriate but all other +spelling and punctuation remains unchanged. + + + + + NEW NOVELS + + Betty Brent, Typist. + By “RITA.” + + Red Love. + By the Author of “The Wild Widow.” + + The Soul of Crœsus. + By GERALD VILLIERS-STUART. + + A Gentleman from Portland. + By RANGER GULL. + + The Methods of Mr. Ames. + By the Author of “The Adventures of John Johns.” + + A Laughing Matter. + By SHAN F. BULLOCK. + + The Loser Pays. A Story of the French Revolution. + By MARY OPENSHAW. + + The Silent Ones. + By MARY GAUNT and J. RIDGWELL ESSEX. + + The Adventures of Louis Blake. + By LOUIS BECKE. + + Side Stepping with Shorty. + By SEWELL FORD. Author of “Shorty McCabe.” + Illustrated. + + The Wild Widow. + By GERTIE DE S. WENTWORTH-JAMES. + + Cousins and Others. + By KATHARINE TYNAN. + + Lil of the Slums. + By DICK DONOVAN. + + + + + THE ISLE OF + LIES + + BY + M. P. SHIEL + + Author of + “The White Wedding” + “The Last Miracle” + + + “The sounding again of the + mountains.”—_Ezekiel._ + + + Published at Clifford’s Inn, London + + By T. WERNER LAURIE + + + + + CONTENTS + + + CHAP. PAGE + + I. THE STELE 1 + + II. MOLLY O’HARA 17 + + III. THE ISLE OF LIES 29 + + IV. THE SHIP 43 + + V. “MISS EVE” 52 + + VI. THE TOWERS 62 + + VII. THE TERRACES 68 + + VIII. IN THE GARDEN 79 + + IX. “VITRIOLISERAI” 93 + + X. “THE MOON” 111 + + XI. THE CHAMBER-WINDOW 135 + + XII. THE WEDDING-PLACE 171 + + XIII. AT EGMOND 190 + + XIV. AT SERAPIS 208 + + XV. TO SHUNTER 226 + + + + + THE ISLE OF LIES + + + + + CHAPTER I. + + THE STELE. + + +Perhaps one’s happiest manner to begin the history of the remarkable +boy whose moral we have to point is to give, as we can, that part of +Professor S. S. Reid’s diary which has to do with the matter. The +professor writes: + + * * * * * + +I have this morning the tidings that a son is born to Dr. Lepsius, and +as the fact may possibly come to prove momentous in the history of +experiment, I am about now to jot down just what I was in the way to +know of the story. + +In the dog-days of ’68, close on two years gone now, our bout-at-arms +with Theodore III. of Abyssinia came to a close with the capture of +Magdala by Napier: and the victory was still in everyone’s mouth, when +Lepsius one afternoon strolls into my study to notify me that the +British Government was about to send out a mission to that country, +and that he, Lepsius, was to accompany it in some rôle or other. I +was quite surprised, in spite of my familiarity with the manifold +activities of this man. + +“_You_ going to Abyssinia?” I exclaimed. + +“I am,” says he. + +“But what for?” I asked. + +“There are the Jurassic limestones for one thing,” he answered, “and +you surely know that some more or less valuable MSS., especially Bible +MSS., already derive from Abyssinia.” + +He then proceeded to tell me that in the rage of the Mohammedan +invasion of that region in the sixteenth century, the Abyssinians +heaped most of their Ethiopian and other manuscripts into a certain +museum on Debra-Seena (an island of Lake Sana), where they remain +guarded by clerics, who regard them as idol relics. “Abyssinia, then,” +said he, “might not be a bad four-months’ abode for a bloke like me; at +all events, I am off.” + +And off, in some weeks, Lepsius was.... Never let it be said that the +doctor was any shade of a scatter-brains! for in my lifetime never +did I meet so essential a sage; all the same, I do admit that to some +of the heats of Lepsius the word “flighty” has been applied with some +meaning, he was ever so fevered, seeming always to keep vastly too many +irons in the fire—“Jack of all trades!” I don’t say master of none. +The man was tinged with both physics and biology like a Janus-head, +was an educationist and an Egyptologist, all in the ardour of the same +day. Modern learning—he made that his domain. Of course, his thumping +fortune had much to do with such a mental posture and manner of life, +for, like the free-lance that he ever was, his relation with the mill +of science was mainly honorary. I never met him steaming along the +streets, mopping his pink brow, but he was eager to drag me to the +meeting-of-council of some society, or to drop at my ear some spanking +scientific tidings. Old Lepsius! I fancy that I behold him anew, not a +beauty assuredly, with his shortish form, bold nose, and thin lips, +his burning straight hair brushed back flat from the forehead, and +curled up a bit at the nape! At the time when he started for Abyssinia +he was a man of perhaps forty-five, of established fame in the western +world, and a hardened old bachelor—I almost said old maid! + +What surprises me is that a man like Lepsius, a tender wight at bottom +surely, should have let himself become the excuse for bloodshed during +this exuberance of his, and should have been led into committing an act +which the common man might well consider wonderfully like pilfering—at +the spur of a whim! Learning, may be, has a claim to make its own code +of morals, but I am convinced that in, say, Madrid, Lepsius would have +shrunk with dismay from doing what in that savage country he did with +the coolest self-assurance. + +The mission reached the town of Gondar at the end of August—a world of +mountains now, after a camel-journey of some weeks across the lowlands +from Somaliland. By September, Dr. Lepsius had won sufficient favour +for his purposes with the viceroy, or _ras_, and, with his usual +rashness, ventured out with only one Choan servant on an ass for Lake +Sana, twenty miles south, to examine the MSS., etc. + +It appears that in these regions the rainy season is from June to +the tail-end of September, so that now it was pouring without pity. +However, one forenoon Lepsius comes to the lake, and is rowed, as he +related it to me, in a buffalo-hide boat to one of the islets. + +On this island was a kind of double monastery, half occupied by +sisters, and half by brothers, to which latter Lepsius had a letter +of introduction given him by the _abuna_ (or father) of Gondar, the +head of the Christian-Coptic Church of Abyssinia; but the scientist’s +welcome at the monastery was hardly hearty, since, having landed on +the island, he had to hang about a whole hour without beholding his +hosts. This, however, as it turned out, was owing to no cursedness +of the monks, since it appears that, the prior of the monastery +having recently died, the monks were even then intent upon the rite +of electing his successor. This once over, Lepsius was fairly well +received, and soon thereupon was rowed through the rain to the library +by two of the monks: those monks, he told me, being dark-skinned carles +with crinkled hair all in plaits, and the library being a kind of +mosque on another island half a mile from the monastery-island. + +Here, then, on this second island, Lepsius abode most of the day, +ferreting and feasting his curiosity. Onwards from the sixth century +of our era Abyssinia, he has told me, was a bold and expansive power, +having dealings with India, with Ceylon, with the Greek Empire, +and overflowing by far the greater part of Arabia: so that this +mosque place was crammed with all the gimcrackery and dust of the +ages—scriptures, urns, relics, cartouches, taliput-books, mostly modern +and of small importance, but still of interest; and the only thing +which badgered Lepsius’ peace of mind at being turned loose into these +pastures was the continual presence of the two monks who had rowed him +over, seeing that they did not leave his side a moment. One of them, +he says, was a particularly swagger chap who carried over his cotton +garment two falchions in scarlet-morocco scabbards, and his aspect +appears to have smacked nastily of the fact that in Abyssinia the +Church is burningly militant. Ever and anon he would grumble something +to his mate in Amharic—a kind of Arabic lingo with which Lepsius was +pretty well acquainted, though his ear lacked ease in striking quite +what was said. + +Toward sunset he went down some steps to an underground corridor +into which a series of grilles and doors opened, having in his brisk +fashion already made a survey of the treasures above, and wishing to +run over those below while there was still some twilight. Midway in +the corridor, at a moment when, as it happened, the two monks were +whispering together, he noticed a half-open grille, and passed in, +whereat the grimmer of the two fellows stepped sharply up and tapped +him on the shoulder, saying, “Not in there!” But Lepsius was already +in, and making out that he didn’t understand, took another step, and +looked about him. + +Three sides of this apartment were piled with papyri and many book-like +objects dark with dust, together with pictures of saints all painted +full-face, whatever the posture of the body, and with idols, weapons, +beads, and other suchlike gems and curios. One wall of it, however, +was almost bare, and there, in the centre of that wall, hung a little +basalt stele, about as thick as one’s wrist, and about six inches long; +it had a copper cap with an old hole in it, through which passed the +banyan string with which it was hung up. Lepsius could see that it was +covered with a singular enough mixture of hieroglyphic, hieratic, and +demotic figures; and his curiosity seems to have been at once fired +to a high degree by this sight, especially when he saw marked on the +wall over the stele in the Geez jargon the curious runes, “Riches of +Jerusalem.” + +Meantime, while peering at the little stele, Lepsius with half an eye +had observed on the floor, immediately under the stele, a coffin only +half covered by its lid, so that he could spy the body of a very old +man who looked lost within it—the coffin was so large, and the corpse +so small—and at the coffin’s foot sat on the floor a gigantic Galla, +armed to the teeth, his shield garnished with human hair, these Gallas +being, in fact, the blackest and most malignant of the Abyssinian clans. + +“Well,” Lepsius said, “may I look about?” addressing himself to the +milder of the two monks. The answer was, “No, it is the prior’s room.” + +“And who is the dead man?” Lepsius asked. + +“The prior,” was the answer. + +“Who died yesterday?” + +“Yes.” + +“He died here, then?” + +“Yes, in this chamber, where he mainly passed his time.” + +“Why did he pass his time here?” Lepsius wished to know. + +“Because,” was the answer, “he wanted to contemplate the sacred stele. +For fifty years he was poring upon it, and dropped dead before it.” + +“Oho,” says Lepsius, “and what is the history of the stele, my friend?” + +“It fell from heaven,” replied the monk; “the prior found it here when +he was a very young monk, and hung it there under that picture of the +Virgin, who was looking when he found it.” + +“Oho,” says Lepsius, “but can’t I approach a little and examine it?” +The answer was, “No, the irreligious could not approach it.” + +But the irreligious _had_ approached it. Lepsius could already make +out two or three of the phrases, could tell that it was mainly an +imitation of the hieratic of the nineteenth dynasty, mixed with some +intentionally secret writing; and, as he stared at it, he mumbled on +absently, saying, “Oho, one can see, one can see, its date; and what is +the meaning of those marks on it, then?” + +“No one knows,” was the answer. + +“And yet you write over it, ‘Riches of Jerusalem’?” + +“Yes, for the prior discovered this much, that it tells of the riches +of the City of God.” + +“He was a learned man, I see.” + +“We shall not have another like him! a learned and a saintly man. +He made the stele the study of his life, and mined out much of its +meaning, for which reason it is to be buried with him.” + +“Buried with him?” cries Lepsius. + +“Yes, by his own instructions.” + +“And when?” + +“To-night.” + +“Ah! At what hour?” + +“At eleven.” + +“And where?” + +“In the monastery.” + +But at this the more truculent of the two monks stepped offensively +before Lepsius, blocking his view. The Galla warrior, too, who kept +guard over the corpse was eyeing him disagreeably, so Lepsius moved +off, and after sauntering through another room or two, started off for +the monastery-island, to be at once afresh drenched through by the +rain. Darkness had suddenly come. + +As he now passed up the steps towards the monastery, he made +minute note of everything: a number of boats lay close about the +landing-place, with some monks baling them out; from a chapel some way +off he was aware of the chaunted vesper-psalm of the nuns. + +After a repast with the new prior, a portly man of middle age, he was +conducted for the night to his chamber, where for a while he waited, +sitting on a bed made of rushes mixed with raw cotton; but at ten +o’clock he got up and stole through his door. Lepsius by this time had +fully informed himself of the minutiæ of the dead prior’s funeral, and +had resolved to pilfer the little stele. + +I think that I never knew quite so insolently plucky a nut as this of +Lepsius. His impetuosity is extreme, and his tenacity is extreme; so +that whatever happens at any time to fascinate his mind fascinates it +in a quite unbalanced manner, to the banning of every other concern in +the world. When this blessed stele had once seized upon his fancy as +a thing likely to prove a scientific find, his subsequent action was +so very in character, that I shouldn’t wonder if he went stealing the +thing, about to be buried and lost as it was, with an overweening sense +of propriety, and perhaps, in setting about it, whispered to himself +the word “Science,” or perhaps only the word “Lepsius”: I don’t know. + +But no man surely ever rushed into a job bristling with dangers more +horrid, for he was alone among all those martial fanatics, and, save +for a razor and a penknife, if I am right, quite unarmed. + +He crept out of his room into a corridor and down some steps, there +being no light apparently in that part of the building, though the +place was full of the sounds of busy footfalls and people passing +about with lime-torches; and when one of these approached him at a +rapid walk, Lepsius had to snatch himself into a kind of carrel, only +to find a monk praying in it in the dark, who, at the sound of his +entrance, looked round and addressed him: Lepsius droned some mutter in +Amharic, and slipped out into an alcove opposite. + +He knew very well that he had only to be noticed prowling about in this +way to set the whole place in a hullabaloo, and no doubt bring on his +instant death; but the floors, covered with cocoanut-fibre, facilitated +his flights and escapes, and he contrived to run the blockade to the +landing-place. There his ears were aware of a priest baling rain-water +from the boat meant to bring over the body of the prior, but so deep +was the darkness of the night, that nothing could be seen a yard beyond +one’s eyes. With elaborate stealths Lepsius stepped down into a boat +almost swamped with rain-water, put out the oar, and paddled off for +the library-island. + +His hope, derived from certain answers already given to his inquiries, +was that the corpse might by this time be less closely guarded, that he +might thus perchance be able to stretch a clandestine arm to the stele, +and then, hastening back with it, steal into his chamber. But when with +bare feet he had got down into the underground corridor of the stele +and corpse, and had peeped into the prior’s room, there still lingered, +brooding, the armed Galla. Lepsius was the last man alive to be +baffled! He simply said to himself, “Well, the other way, then,” went +up afresh, towed his boat away from the landing-stage, sat down on a +rock, and waited, his ear cocked to hear a sound through the showering +of the rain. + +Presently over the surface of the lake appeared three throngs of lights +approaching—torches made of lime-wood saturated in spirits, borne by +the priests; and amid the splash of their oars there floated forth +the burden of a Coptic dirge. One by one, however, these torches were +seen to cower out, quenched by the shower, and by the time the boats +had reached the library-island where Lepsius lurked, not one remained +burning. Upon this Lepsius had counted. + +The monks landed and entered the mosque. + +After some twenty minutes they returned to the quay with rekindled +torches, carrying the coffin: and though the largest of the boats +was a craft as big as a Red Sea lugger, so overgrown was the size +of the coffin, that they were obliged to lay it crosswise over +the gunwales aft. Lepsius, himself unseen, could, by means of the +flickering torch-lights, see all. He stole along the shore closer to +the landing-stage. The placing of the coffin was a longish task; and +out into darkness, one by one, cowered the lights, so that no more than +two remained burning when the first of the boats pushed off, and the +dirge was afresh lifted; and when at last all the boats were abroad on +the water, the priests intoned in a complete darkness. Lepsius was then +hanging to the transom of the boat which bore the coffin, she towing +his length in her track. + +He knew that in the monastery a rite had yet to be performed over the +prior; he had been told that the corpse would then be exposed for +the last time to the looks of the assembled fathers; he was certain, +then, that the lid was not so far fastened to the coffin. All he had +to do was to lift his weight up on the transom, raise the lid, whip +the little stele from the dead bosom, where he had been told that it +would be, and bolt with it into the building, to his bed. They couldn’t +see him; the chaunting should drown any chance sound which he might +make: and he felt secure, save for one vital fact—he could not swim; +he would have to hang on to the boat till it came to the monastery +landing-place before he could attempt to make his escape. + +Midway across, judging the moment come, he raised himself cautiously +up; one stiff arm held up his weight on the transom, while with the +other hand he groped, grasped the lid, tried to lift it. Lid wouldn’t +stir: it was fastened. + +Another man might now, perhaps, have renounced the attempt, not knowing +what string next to pull; it was in just such a plight that Lepsius was +likely to show fight. + +The man’s a born theorist: would never dream of abandoning a conclusion +based upon reasoning, because, perhaps, appearances should happen to +combat it; and he had already reasoned that the lid was unnailed. He +raised himself still further, felt with his hand over the surface of +the lid, and was soon reassured, seeing that the priests, in order to +keep the two pieces together during the passage, had tied two cords of +banyan-twine bodily about lid and coffin; finding which, Lepsius dived +into his pocket, took out a penknife, and cut the cords, deeming that +the monks, when they saw the cords cut, the stele gone, would set it +all down to a miracle of God. By this time the boats had floated the +funeral-hymn pretty close up to the monks’ home. + +Lepsius could now easily insert his fingers between lid and coffin, +and, on doing so, found what he had opined, that the stele had been +slung round the dead neck by its string; so, manœuvring with the +fingers of his left hand, he managed to urge and win this string upward +from under the dead head: and he had begun to draw forth string and +stele, his fingers being still within the coffin, when the poor man’s +stiff right arm, weary of his weight, gave way under him with a shock, +whereat he, in an involuntary movement to check his fall, caught the +coffin-rim. It was a disastrous business: the blessed coffin tilted, +and slid with a sideward dive into the water, while Lepsius, having +clean lost his hold, found himself adrown in the deep, as an outcry +arose among the crowd of monks. + +Lepsius splashed about, catching at the vacant air; but even in the +very plight and fix of his death his reasoning mind was not drowned. +He judged that he must now be very near the monastery, so that if he +could find even a minute’s support in the water, he might by such means +manage some way to come at safety; but the boats had forged on well +away beyond him, and there was no making out anything in that thickness +of blackness. There was, however, one hope—the coffin: for, though he +could not see, he knew perfectly the course of its sideward dive, and +it was assuredly only the coffin, or the coffin-lid, which, if he was +to find salvation, could save him. He quite well knew the science of +swimming, though no master of the art: so, taking care to keep his lips +closed, he made a few strokes, sinking and rising indeed, but moving, +and his strokes proved in the duly right course, for very soon now he +found himself on the coffin-lid, the little basalt stele hanging still +to his forefinger by its string. + +Still awash and struggling, he began to urge the board toward the +shore. The hubbub of monkish tongues had now come to land, while a +number of them had rushed out of the monastery, all carrying torches, +with outcries, so that the landing-stage was now in a nice state of +commotion. Lepsius, in the gloomy deep, steered his struggles in a +changed direction, making for another spot of the shore, though he +does not seem to have known what he was to do when he got there; but +his feet touched bottom in a minute, and at the same time he entered +the region of the off-shine of the lights, which showed up his white +visage, whereat at once a perfect hullabaloo of howls broke out from +the priests, and they all dashed forward to catch him, foremost among +them being the fierce monk of the day-time, with his sword flashing, +and the new prior, and the huge black fellow. + +Lepsius scrambled up some rocks, and started slantways away from the +throng of lights toward a wing of the building; and as the priests +appear to have had no firearms, it became an affair of darting, +Lepsius being a fairly nimble fellow, though, I fancy, without any +wind to speak of, and already very weary. However, he reached the +monastery-wall, and hastening along it, happened upon a small doorway, +into which he darted, slammed the door, and was away anew through +darkness; whereat the monks ran round to the front, and scattering +there, rushed with rekindled torches in all directions through the +monastery, scouring it for the fugitive. + +Well, a scene of sufficient wildness seems to have ensued. Lepsius, +divining that the monks would leave the door which he had slammed in +their faces to fly to the front, ran back to the door; but his slam +had locked, he could not open, it. So back afresh he turned, ran to +the bottom of the corridor in which he found himself, and now heard +the sound of the onrush of many runners. Happily, it was no longer a +question of legs and lungs alone, but of eager, quick wit as well, +and here Lepsius was in his element. He saw that he could only rescue +himself by hiding, and that he could only hide by continual wise +movement. On hieing thievishly up some steps he heard more pelting feet +behind him, but he had the advantage of being in shadow, while his +hunters were well lit up, and away he went again, choosing his way with +good instinct; only, the priests had split up into such an intricacy +of pickets, that he should have possessed six sets of wits to elude +them. Still, he did for no little while elude them, guided not only by +their lights, but by the sounds of the groups, their faint footsteps +and outcries: till on a sudden one of those aids was cut off—that of +sound—when out roared the abbey-bells, drowning everything else. Just +afterwards, he was running down a corridor when behind him he saw +coming a bunch of torches; there was no harking back this time; so, +hoping to hit upon some door or side-passage somewhere ahead, forward +he sped, his wind about done for now, and his wits all bewildered and +badgered by the loud bedlam and brabblement of the bells throughout the +building. At the corridor’s end his course was stopped by a wall with +what he took to be a door in it, and a cocoanut tapestry hung before +it; there was no side-passage anywhere; the door was fixed, and his +hand, feeling behind the tapestry, could find no handle; the throng of +torches, too, were now trooping down the corridor towards him, and he +thought himself dished and taken. However, he found by touch that the +door, too, as well as the tapestry, was of cocoanut-fibre, not a door +at all, but a mass of matting fastened over an opening; and inasmuch +as the corridor was long, he had time to snatch his shaving-razor and +slash a rent in the tough stuff, so that when the monks arrived at the +spot they must have been astonished (if they had spied him) to find +their man vanished. Lepsius says that he next hastened over a species +of bridge or hanging gallery, at the end of which he hacked a hole in +another door, got himself through that as well, and was away ardently +again, no more caring whither, through darkness, when all at once he +was in the very midst of a lot of people, of a flood of light, for he +had pitched through the doorway of a chamber before ever he could check +his flight. This chamber was full of beds, for which the people in it +must have been making ready when the pealing of the bells had flurried +them; they were all women, as Lepsius saw at once, all half-undressed, +with their hair floating loose; the two door-mattings through which +he had slashed his way were manifestly the doors which separated the +monastery from the nunnery; and at the apparition of this white man +among them, that multitude of women whooped out one unanimous yowl, +which Lepsius tells me he is not going to forget. Out they rushed +pell-mell, clutching their garments about them, he after them—with +the grave consciousness meantime in his eye-corner of a big floor-bed +on fire, for one of the calabash-lamps had been dashed to the floor +in the out-rush, and how the whole show, built mostly of touch-wood, +was not burnt to the deuce was, he asserts, a wonder. After a little +Lepsius pulled up and listened: all was still—for the simple reason +that the priests would not at once enter upon the part of the place +sacred to the nuns, and presently coming to a staircase, he sped down, +and soon found himself out in the open, unpursued. Running now round +the rim of the islet in search of a boat, he heard all round about the +shores a buzzing sound on the lake, the cause of which he was unable +to imagine, and when, having found a boat, he paddled away, this sound +swelled upon him, until he was all in the thick of it—a host of +tongues hubbubooing, not in Amharic, but in Ethiopic; not monks, then, +but chiefs, or _dejamatshs_, with their troops, who, at the call of the +bells, had come to beset the islet with a cordon of boats; and Lepsius +declares that he passed through the thick of them, thanks to the +darkness and the rain, by something of a miracle. After this the banks +of the lake were not far off; and there, having made rapid paces for +the deeps of a forest, and presently feeling himself safer, he dropped +to the ground, giving out. + +Toward morning, it being still pitch dark, the Englishmen at Gondar +who composed the mission were startled by the bombardment of the +place set apart for their abode: for the priests and natives, failing +to find Lepsius, had posted northward to seek vengeance upon the +mission; whereat the British, in danger of their lives, were obliged +to barricade their doors and defend themselves; and before the +intervention of the _ras_ was able to reach the residence, three +Abyssinians were shot, so that this matter of the basalt stele had +something of a grim beginning. + +Not till six days later did Lepsius succeed in coming up secretly +with his comrades, after seeing the lion and the hyrax, and a score +of escapades; and on the sixteenth morning they all started eastward +and coastward under an escort of the _ras_. The terror of the anger +of England was, of course, extreme at the moment in the mind of the +Negus and his Court, or it might have gone ill with Lepsius and his +companions. However, all’s well that ends well; nothing graver than +threats came about, and Lepsius, having his basalt stele, could afford, +I suppose, to grin his grin. + + + + + CHAPTER II. + + MOLLY O’HARA. + + +Professor S. S. Reid’s history thus continues: + +Well, I saw old Lepsius very shortly after his return, when he showed +me the little cylinder of basalt, and related to me for the first time, +not the last, the details of his adventures. He was blithe and fit, if +a bit bothered in mind about the three shot Abyssinians, and about the +drowning of the aged prior’s body, due to his rage of research. + +“And how about the stele,” said I to him; “have you made out the +meaning?” + +“I am going to,” was his answer. + +“I suppose it is worth the pains?” said I. + +“Reid,” says he, “it would be worth the pains, if all the Orientalists +in the world applied their wits to nothing else than that one thing.” + +“What makes you think that?” I asked. + +“Well, but haven’t I already read part of the thing?” says he. +“True, it is no cartouche of Darius, nor Rosetta-stone; its date +can’t be earlier than the thirteenth century, and not only is it +the oddest mix of Memphitic with hieroglyphs, but, what is really +remarkable, this Coptic stone is the record of an Indian incident. Its +comparative-philological value will hardly be high, perhaps, but I am +convinced that, once deciphered, it will prove a priceless document +from the historian’s point of view.” + +Well, I wished him joy of his new toy, and we said adieu for that time. + +Then for some few months I did not see much of Lepsius, nor, I imagine, +did anyone else of his world, till his seclusion began to be remarked +upon by one and another of the gossips. “Where was Lepsius, what was +he pottering at at present, why the father of lies...?” and so on. On +three or four of the occasions when I called upon him at his Hanover +Square house, I found him looking far from so well and sprightly as +usual, nor did the good fellow give himself the pains to hide from me +that I was somewhat heavy upon him. I understood that he was in the +grip of a fit of study—a certain grimness of his looks and gauntness +of his face informed one of so much—and that in that same little stele +lay the secret of this too great zeal. By this time the blessed stele +had been reproduced and distributed among the savants everywhere, and +it may be that a race was being run in its deciphering, I don’t know; +but one thing was obvious, it made Lepsius lean many days, so that +says Matthews to me, “serves him right for picking and _steling_, +there’s some black spook in the basalt thing that’s paying him back, +and making him its victim”; and, in truth, I never saw such a thing, +for one by one Lepsius threw every social, every scientific obligation +to the winds to give himself day and night to this one object. Such, +however, was the man: whatsoever his hands found to do, he did it with +a fraction more than all his might or right. Then all at once I learned +that he had fallen ill and had gone off to his castle in Galway, from +which region, after some weeks, he once only wrote me a few words. + +On a sudden one morning, say ten months after his coming back from +Abyssinia, Lepsius presents his old phiz before me, looking as brisk +and light as you like, with a smile on the thin lips. He had got back +from Ireland only the day before, and, after some gossip, said I to +him, “Come now, one can really see that we have laid bare at last the +secret of our basalt stele.” + +“Do I look like it?” he asked rather sorrowfully. + +“So I thought,” said I. + +“Just failed, sir! just failed!” sighs he, tossing up his hand. + +“Tell me about it,” said I. + +“That’s all I’ve got to say,” says he; “I’ve only just failed. The +epigraph, as you know, consists of signs of very diverse dates, with a +quite hierogrammatic vowelling, but Memphitic aspirations, and a jumble +of true idiographs and true rebuses. Well, within five months I had +deciphered it all—every syllable—save fifteen signs, making, I think, +three words at the very finish, which are purposely ‘secret’; but, as +it chances, those three are the important ones.” + +“That’s hard luck, certainly,” said I; “but why, then, are these three +of such particular importance?” + +“You know,” said he, “that the stele is the record of an accumulation +of riches heaped up somewhere by a host of Hindu princes during the +period of the Mohammedan deluge—this where and when is exactly what +remains dark. Fix place and date, and you have sextupled the value of +your stele as a piece of history, quite apart from the pile of lucre in +question, supposing it still to exist.” + +“Well, that’s tantalising,” I said. “Of course, Thibaut has seen it?” + +“You may bet,” was his answer. “Who hasn’t seen it? They have all seen +it. But the fellows _can’t make it out_! I question if any one of them +has read as much of it as I have. Reid, there’s not one single living +man who can do it!” + +“So much for stolen goods, then,” said I. “Still, you seemed to me a +good deal more like your old self just as you came in, quite a youthful +step and jaunty air, I thought! so I made sure....” + +He laughed, saying, “Well, perhaps you are right, for I _am_ relieved, +and I have reason.” + +“How do you mean?” I asked. + +“Look you,” says he, “I am going to read every syllable of the writing +on that stele.” + +“You said just now that you couldn’t,” said I. + +“I am going to, though,” says he, “for it can be done, if not by me, if +not by any living man, still it can be done; and if I look relieved it +is because I know the means of doing it, and because, two nights since, +lying in my bed, I suddenly decided to use them.” + +“Very good,” said I, swallowing my puzzlement; “and what _are_ the +means?” + +“I am going, Reid,” says Lepsius, “to make a man who will read the +secret.” + +Quite at a loss to make out what the deuce he would be at, no doubt I +smiled, for he added quickly, “No, don’t smile in that fashion, as if +you hadn’t known me until to-day, since I assure you quite seriously +that I can and will successfully accomplish this job.” + +“The making of a man?” said I: “those are your words.” + +“The making of a man,” says he, “who will not merely read the rebus, +but do it without difficulty—without effort.” + +“Quite so, Lepsius,” said I, “for though you choose to express +yourself in terms of x, I am quite sure that in due course some +explanation will be offered by you of the matter which you meditate, +and of your meaning when you speak of ‘making a man’ to read this +stele.” + +“Lord,” exclaims Lepsius, “what a speech! How sweet the smile, but +how icy the meaning! as if I were some rash, fantastic talker. No! at +present I haven’t the time to go into prolonged explanations, moreover +doubting Thomas ought to be tortured; but in about four days I shall +probably lay my plan fully before you, when I shall have seen the +initial stages of it well under way: and meanwhile, I invite you to +take part with me in watching the accomplishment of these stages.” + +“Where?” said I. + +“You come,” said he. + +“To the end of the world,” said I, “if you are serious and scientific.” + +“I am quite serious and strictly scientific,” says he. + +Well, I went with him. First we drove to his club in Piccadilly, +where we took two seats at a window to look down upon the passers on +the pavement beneath, as to whom Lepsius remarked that we might have +to keep an eye on them for two, three, four hours, and—did I mind? +“No, didn’t mind,” I replied, feebly chewing my foolish feeling. +However, after half an hour of this watch, he changed his mind, said +that that was hardly the proper place for his object, and suggested +that we should drive to Westminster Bridge, if I would. I should, I +said: so thither we drove, and there by the parapet of the bridge we +stood, under the July blaze of the sun, two hours. I was at first +simply amused by this open-air sentry of two venerable persons like +ourselves, then I became a little vexed. However, I stuck to my task, +while of the river of people that passed by every one stared at us +two standing stupidly there, Lepsius speaking of everything except of +what had brought us into this exhibition, mainly, I remember, of the +necessity, by a law of probability, that every variety of human type +should move past us within a number of time-units equal to the number +of type-varieties which exist in the city. At last, when it was close +on two o’clock, he stopped suddenly in his talk, and pointed. + +“There, I think,” he says, “comes the right age, the right race, the +right trade, the right body and being—the very lady.” + +It was a passing woman at whom he pointed, a woman of the lower orders, +with black hair, black eyes, high cheek-bones, very cheaply dressed, +but not unclean, long in the leg, lean and fit, some twenty-five years +old. Her nose was not red, her teeth were regular. She was going, under +a heap of soiled clothes, toward the Surrey side, and one could make +quite sure that she was an Irish washerwoman. + +Well, Lepsius stepped out and addressed the woman. She was startled! I +heard her say, “Sure, then, it isn’t me that has the time to be showing +your worship around the town this day.” + +I remained waiting at the parapet, absolutely astonished, much amused, +while Lepsius walked on with the woman, talking pressingly, quite +a confab, one could see, taking place between them, he all suave +insistence, the woman curtseying, till, presently turning, he beckons +me to come. So I ran and overtook them, to find them already fast +friends; and Lepsius effusively introduced me to “Miss Molly O’Hara.” + +This woman turned out to be the heartiest, best soul in the world, and +in some half-hour we had won from her the whole simple history of one +who was orphaned and friendless, save for a sister, a fruit-seller, +who lived at Ballihooly. In the course of our discourse it was +discovered that she had never visited the Tower, the Crown Jewels, +nor the whispering-gallery at St. Paul’s, so we soon got from her an +engagement to meet us on the Bridge the next day, in order to go with +us to inspect these glories. She showed us the slum and the house in +Southwark in which she occupied a room, and we parted. + +Well then, the next day, at one o’clock, behold Molly standing in +holiday garb with her landlady for guardian, and the pair of professors +before them with doffed hats, like characters in an opera! We had +lunch in a restaurant, and I spent a pestilent day in the “chamber +of horrors” and other suchlike places, winding up with a play in the +evening; after which, at about midnight, we sent our ladies home in a +cab, and Lepsius, coming back to my house with me, disclosed to me that +night the design that underlay his conduct during the last two days, +so that we were still talking in my study when the dawn stole in. When +I said to him that I had well earned his secret, and asked what in the +world he meant to do with this Molly O’Hara, his answer was, “I mean to +make her read my stele for me.” “Quite so,” said I, “but then, Lepsius, +you persist in speaking to me in riddles.” “I mean to marry her,” says +Lepsius. + +I was so startled, I couldn’t help crying out a “No!” + +“And why not?” says the doctor coldly. + +“Oh, Lepsius,” I couldn’t help saying, half laughing, and half +shrinking with reproach, “this is ridiculous, this is absurd.” + +“Ridiculous enough, certainly,” says he, “but very far from absurd. We +differ there.” + +“But, Lepsius,” said I. + +“Pooh, man,” says he, “don’t be excessive; there’s no law to prevent +me taking a female to the altar, if I like, and, as to the particular +lass in question, if it isn’t the right of men like you and me to look +at facts in their true light, where’s the use of us? Molly O’Hara is +a better human being than I, you may bet, with all my learning, sound +from her top-knot to her toes; I don’t doubt she will make a pretty +fairish wife—and a most splendid mother.” + +“Well, I never was so astonished,” I said. + +“That,” he answered, “is due to the fact that you have not yet acquired +a scientific interest in my motive, for as soon as ever you have, your +interest will quite quash your astonishment.” + +“Well, I am all ears,” says I: “what _is_ your motive?” + +“You know, Reid,” was his answer, “that whatever else I may or may not +be, I am by nature an educationist; the world calls me educationist, +and with justice, if a lifetime’s work and warmth are worth ought; +and you know, too, my notion that no son of Adam so far has ever been +educated, or been half educated—that education is an affair of the +future. Well, my thought, cherished for many years, and now brought to +a head by this stele, is to turn out by certain quite sure modes of +education, a man, or why not a woman? who shall be not so much a man as +a kind of—god. The methods, however, have to be such, that I should not +venture to employ them upon another man’s boy, nor, unless the child +were in my absolute power from a very early age, would they be of any +use. You now observe where my Molly comes nicely in: the first needful +work for a man who would build a mansion or a fane is to make sure that +his marble and beams are at least good.” + +“I see,” said I: “given fair materials to start with, you undertake +what you say.” + +“Aye,” says he, “and without so much as the shadow of a doubt as to the +result.” + +“What an enterprise!” I cried. “But as to the means.” + +“The means,” says he, “will be simple enough, being based purely upon +the known fact that human beings are what their environment makes of +them. We know that an English child, abandoned by its guardians in +China, will grow up, hardly a mental Englishman, but a mental Chinaman: +never by any effort will he be able to row like a Cambridge-man, or +do business like a jobber; but he will, without effort, make finer +porcelain than could be turned out by the life’s devotion of ten +thousand Cambridge-men or jobbers; it is a question of environment, +of the mental hue and house about you. Be sure that every brat born +into ancient Athens was straightway an artist, and if children to-day +were born into a world in which everybody as a matter of course played +violins with perfect skill, then _every_ average child would without +conscious effort be a pretty perfect fiddle-player—and, indeed, _is_ so +in some regions of the Bas-Pyrennees. It is a question of environment.” + +“Quite so,” said I, “and, if you add heredity——” + +“No,” says he, “let one get on; what I am trying to tell you is that +the faculties of a human child’s mind and body can be made to stretch +_a hundred miles_—almost indefinitely—I half said infinitely—according +to the ideal, the standard and life-idea, that he finds about him; and +I should doubt almost any limit which you chose to lay down to the +possible activity, exactness, and acumen of the human mind and senses; +we here are limited merely by habit, by the iron rod of mean ideals. +Primitive man in his atmosphere of reindeer could run very like a deer; +he had his hound’s scent, could speed his spear with the sureness of a +machine—and without toil, that’s the point, without dreaming that he +did anything astounding. A modern British child, abandoned in Africa +to that same atmosphere and life-ideal, would also run like the devil, +shoot like a machine, track like a dog; born into a world of gods or +godlike beings, he, too, would in general be stretched into a god or +godlike being; if he believed that everybody about him could read +rebuses without effort, then he, too, would read them without effort. +It is an affair of environment.” + +“Quite so,” said I; “one has no difficulty in following you so far, +for even monkeys that have lived long in an environment of men become +manlike, and get to do many things; so, given your ‘environment of +gods,’ your undertaking looks all in bloom. But where, then, do you +mean to find this environment of gods? On the moon? In Venus?” + +“Oh, as to that,” says Lepsius, “surely that much is simplicity itself. +The environment may be real or it may be merely imagined. A child +placed in isolation may be made to believe in an environment, a world, +which does not exist, and so long as he never comes into actual contact +with the imperfect world, and has no suspicion that it is not a perfect +one, you will have all the elements of success: his life-ideal and +standard, his idea and atmosphere, will remain quite unaffected by the +actual world round about him; and having been made to conceive man as a +god, he will not himself be vastly inferior to his conception.” + +“By George,” I cried, “I see what you are at!... But, my friend, aren’t +you preparing a nice little shock for some poor devil of a child, +supposing he ever does come into contact with his actual, as distinct +from his fancied, environment?” + +“May be,” says Lepsius, with a shrug; “or may be the shock will be to +the environment, not to the child—‘so much the worse for the coo,’ as +old Stephenson said; but really, Reid, that’s looking too far forward +for me; the practical point for us is to make out the meaning of our +stele.... Lord! it is broad day, I’m away.” + +Such is something of the gist of my talk with this radical mind that +morning. I can’t recall a hundredth part of his ratiocinations, but +when he had finished I was convinced. I made him stay till with our own +hands we had found and cooked some coffee on my tripod, whereupon the +doctor went home. + +As to the end of this business, I have already, under September 13th, +1869, recorded the doctor’s marriage with Molly O’Hara in the church at +Lambeth. As usual with him, Lepsius has given himself up heart and soul +to the grip of his caprice, the married pair going off at once to his +Galway castle, where, for the past twelvemonth, they have lived. Some +months since I received tidings that Lepsius was in a fair way to be a +parent, and that he had then leased the island of Shunter (one of the +uninhabited islands of the Hebrides), which he was busily preparing at +a crazy cost for the habitation of the child shortly to be born. Now +this morning comes the joyful news that a boy was actually born about +two weeks ago, and with it the gloomy news that our poor good Molly is +no more. She died of milk-fever five days ago, and it had been better +for the good woman not to have passed over Westminster Bridge just +at that particular hour of that day twelve months ago. However, so it +was to be. The fellow who is to read the famous stele is to be named +Hannibal ... etc., etc. + + + + + CHAPTER III. + + THE ISLE OF LIES. + + +If what has so far been given by Professor Reid be read as a sort of +prologue, nearly nineteen years may well be passed over in silence, +till, patching artfully into one a number of letters of Dr. Lepsius to +the professor, we watch what then befell. The doctor writes: + +The bubble’s burst then. We two, Shan Healy and I, have passed over to +the island of Barra in the boat, this being the first time for over +seven years that I have left the shores of Shunter; and at Barra we +now are, my head bound in a handkerchief, aching, and this same fond +Shan Healy looking as sad-hearted as a man handed over to be hanged. We +really lack the grit for the moment to go to the mainland, or to take +any course to get the matter looked into. But you, Reid, will do what +you can at once. I am sure the police should be disposed to take an +interest in it, if you can make them know the peril implied both to the +public and to the poor fellow himself. And there can be no mistaking +him! Middle-sized, swarthy, kind of dusky sallow, blackened over cheek, +chin and lip by a bluish shade of hair which he would oftentimes shave +twice a day—he’s so mighty hairy; and by the smile you should know the +beggar—that cruel smile which hardly departs from his lips, and those +dark eyes, with a glance, Reid, just so wild and sharp, I assure you, +as the glance of the rupicapra gazelle. For the rest, no jacket, rough +shirt of bauge-like stuff—but where’s the good? No police could ever +get nigh him, I suppose. He’s gone, perhaps he’s drowned—he may be, I +doubt it; but God knows. On the sands of the little bay at the north +_a lady’s handkerchief_ has been found; can’t tell how it or she came +there. + +My friend, it was just on his nineteenth birthday, the 21st of July, +that, strange to say, it was to happen; the day which I had long +determined in my own mind as that on which I should present him the +little stele to read. + +All was as usual the evening before; we ran the usual race. For the +past two years, you know, his highest ambition in life has been to be +able to beat me at running—I, a poor old wreck of sixty-four years! +I believe that this was his great dream and hope of glory. For four +years an almost daily race has taken place, and Mr. Hannibal has once +or twice come gallantly nigh victory, but has never won. Well, at +7.30 p.m. this eve of his birthday, down he bounds from his study, +and stands in the castle courtyard, waiting for me to come, with +the impulse, I dare say, to dart away pricking in his high health. +The climate of these Outer Hebrides is a great deal too humid to be +ideal; the ground is mostly of gneiss, too shallow for much culture, +so drammach, with some barley, potatoes, and buckies, have formed the +main part of our maintenance, apart from what provisions Shan Healy has +brought over in the boat from Barra once every four months. But on this +thin gruel my man has greatly thrived; is fully grown now, having the +shoulders of a man, but a shape as limber as a Grace, sir, and about as +supple as any greyhound pup. + +Well then, aware that he is below waiting, I pull myself together now, +put a bit of go into my gait and glance, and down I go to him; together +we stand at the gate of our little home—alas, for the last time—my grey +head reaching little higher than his shoulder, Reid, for the old spine +bows a bit now, you know; and from the kitchen Shan Healy looks up to +watch the race for the thousandth time, while away in the west the sun +is going down all in a wild of clouds and glories, as often in this wet +place. The sea is dead, just lapping the beach in a weary way; the sky +grey, with a curlew or two skirling under it. It gives a little relief +to live it over again.... + +There then, we stand, ready to renew the old, old trial of thews. You +know that it has ever been my policy to speak as few words as possible +to this creature, so now I only say to him, “Well, ready?” + +“Ready, sir,” answers my man. + +“Then one, two—_Three!_” + +We are away, he to the left, I to the right, the goal of the race being +a little flag-staff standing on the sands to the north of the island, +two miles off, and so placed that the boy going over the east shore, +and I over the west, we should run about equally far, the castle, our +starting-point, being right at the rim of a bluff of rock at the south +of the island. A very few instants after we start, we are quite hidden +from each other behind the saddle of the hill, which, being all hard +rock just by there, makes hardly any record of the foot-prints of this +part of the race. So now, no sooner has my man lost sight of me than +I pull up, and pant, and wipe my old brow, and turn back, just in +time to catch a glimpse of the flying heels of Asahel going thirteen +to the dozen round a corner—a sight, Reid, fit to make soft the eyes +of an artist at so much charm of form, and such a pelting puissance +of swiftness. Well, I imagine that you have already heard the rest of +the business, how I climb back at my leisure to the ridge of the hill, +where Shan Healy makes me the wink which means that the mare is ready, +and how I descend to the bush in which she is trained to await me +without budging, and take her quietly in my hand to the entrance of the +tunnel, where I mount and am away. You may be aware that what we call +the tunnel is a sort of gut or gorge, which, half natural, and half due +to my re-organisation of the features of the island during the fellow’s +first youth, was specially arranged for the purposes of this race. It +runs pretty straight across the island, from south-west to north-east; +is thick with peat-moss, so that hardly a sound of the mare’s hoofs is +to be made out in it, and is fairly shut in by bushes at both ends. So, +having galloped straight across to the north-east end, I get off, give +the mare her hint to go back to Shan Healy, dive sharply and quietly +through the growth of leaves, and am off like the devil afoot for the +goal, only some seventy feet distant, but still hidden from me behind a +bluff of rock: and as my right hand claps the flag-staff, with the wild +eyes of a hart Hannibal darts into view, to fling his flying impetus at +the post—a good half-minute or so too late. + +No change in the smile, but a shadow now in the eyes, and I know just +how my man is meditating in his head, thinking in himself, “It is so, +then, that ‘Man’ can run, and how far beneath Him must _I_ be, when +this old being, who is one of ‘Man’ can beat me, a youth, can beat me +always and completely at running and at all else”: for it was never so +much with _me_, I’m sure, that the fellow fought for victory as with +“Man,” those angels and giants inhabiting the sunset of whose existence +he knew, whom eye of his had never viewed, at the idea of whom in their +lurid rule over nature his soul swooned with self-disdain. + +Darkness was beginning to fall rapidly, the winds to pipe up a bit, +as he and I together strolled back homeward in silence all over the +western shores, upon which the waters were just moving themselves to +moan and spume. I willed it so always, for along the eastern shores, +where I was believed to have passed, there was ever a certain absence +of foot-prints! And Mr. Hannibal often seemed to have the knack of +seeing in the dark. + +Have I done well? Have I done right? Never did a question of that sort +arise in my mind till within the twelve months gone, when I have had to +ask myself, “Have I, who forgot nothing, forgotten one thing—one thing +needful?” God Almighty forgive His faulty ones. I am an old man now, +with the back bowing down, and a head of white hairs, meekly aware of +my own weaknesses and achings.... + +You know, my friend, something of the kind of life that during eighteen +years nearly has whiled itself away on that island of delusion: like +the shadow of a vapour it is vanished now. Not without the sacrifice +of my career did I tackle it, Reid: but because of the thousand +eyes and the acrobat activities of mind by which alone it could be +accomplished, the years have been so packed with interest, and have +passed so far from unhappily, that though the task has too soon done +for me, yet when I look back over them they look to me more like two +years than like eighteen; and, if after all one’s travail, one could +only be certain that the work has been truly good, that one has not +somewhere mishandled and bungled, then one could go to bed. Indeed, in +some points, there need be no fear as to the meeds of my toils, for in +his intellectual and physical features at least there breathes on the +earth to-day (if he still breathes!) the highest human feat, a peerless +being, at whose feet all the peoples of this planet may very well +kneel, and wail because of him, crying, “Here is what we might have +been.” + +But oh, the web of imposture to which this being owes his soul! He +is the child of lies—and I am his father. At _every_ moment of his +life, from the age of four and before, the fellow has known my mould. +Nothing was left undone, nothing for me was a bore, or more than I +could afford. You know that his books alone cost me a sum of more than +£14,000: for, owing to my purpose that his notions of the soul of +“Man” should grow from his study of only the most glorious of human +works, and owing to the fact that even those works as they stood would +never do for those pure eyes, his whole library was formed solely of +purged volumes, specially prepared for him, almost before he opened +his eyes upon this world; and when he was old enough to study them, +it was sown into his skull that only men made of very poor stuff ever +wrote books. And so in everything; everywhere the same whip of deceit: +the mass of principles, for instance, which we call mathematics, due +to the shrewdness of fifty thinkers, adding and adding, each of them, +to the achievements of the past, was for Hannibal, his books were so +doctored, the discovery of a single ordinary wit, a certain “Peter +Pitt,” who, as I had to give the lad to believe, lived in the ancient +ages. His study of history, above all, was minutely nursed: wide, yet +much pruned. The story of the ingenuity, zeal, and success of masterly +adventurers like Alexander, Cæsar, Napoleon, he knew by heart: but he +had no suspicion of their chutes; doesn’t even now know that Cæsar +was assassinated, nor that Napoleon was plucked down at last, so that +their victoriousness and force remain measureless in his imagination. +He knew well the proportions of the pyramids of Shufu and Shafra, but +he was not allowed to know how many multitudes, nor how many moons, +were used to build them. And so on. It was dropped into his ear at a +very early age that among men some few may be born with feeble bodies +and wits, that these are called “idiots,” and that poor Shan Healy, who +in reality is a rather sharp chap, is one of the feeblest of these: so +Shan has always passed with us under the name of “The Idiot.” As to +myself, Hannibal now at the age of nineteen cherishes, if he lives, a +belief, ploughed into his brain by ten thousand stratagems, that I can +shoot like doom, can swim like a fish, can run like a roe, can watch +like a dog, can see like an eagle; and that this skull is the dome of +all skill and of all wisdom. + +Frauds. But the outcome, I say, is (or was!) without doubt a success, +something of a success. What the father feigned to be, that the lad +was led to be. I fancy that an average acrobat, after regarding some +of the pranks of this young man, would be asking from what moon the +beggar had gadded; he has a damnable habit of chucking about little +dynamite or other bombs, which he turns out himself, and carries in +his pocket—five, ten times a day for years have the curlews heard the +burstings of this turbulent being’s play—and I am pretty sure that any +other runner than he would long since have been shattered to the deuce +by it. As to his mere knowledge, it is of a vastness which you would +certainly call marvellous, though to me, who know the cause of it, +it is hardly so: for if, for instance, he knows a good deal of most +languages from Japanese and the Dravidic dialects to Portuguese, it +is because he never, I think, forgets a word or thing which has once +come within his consciousness, and so has learned a language within +some weeks. I remember to have heard it said that Lord Macaulay could +repeat word for word a book once read, a statement the truth of which I +beg leave to disbelieve: but, even if true, his lordship differed from +Hannibal here, that Hannibal, I imagine, is not quite clear with regard +to the meaning of “forgetting”; I never heard him utter such a word; +certainly, he never heard such a word escape _my_ lips. _Forgetting_ +is, in fact, mainly a loose habit into which humanity has lapsed, +for to observe vividly is to retain rigidly; and Hannibal, with his +over-manly mental habit, observes each fact presented to him with a +vividness which seems to be pretty absolute. + +You will say, then, to yourself, my friend, that it was a strange pair +of men that paced by the seashore in silence that evening, the eve of +the young man’s nineteenth birthday—old Jack and his young giant; the +giant in the meekest subjection to his Jack because of delusion, as all +a world will sometimes meekly lie in shackles under the will of the +weakest lie. My thoughts as I walked were of the morrow, of that dawn +toward which for long years I had looked forward, when I should hand +over to Hannibal my old problem of the stele to conquer for me, and I +wondered in what manner the young man would manage it. Little doubt, +however, had I as to the outcome, seeing that I am even now about to +compile into a book quite a crowd of new scientific principles dropped +from the mouth of my man in the course of his studies, with a thousand +little observations about things in general, most of them bound, I +should imagine, to astound you. So, then, that my man would read the +stele I could readily believe; but indeed, Reid, I was no longer deeply +interested in this miserable bit of a stele; I’m afraid it is too true +that my interest had all shifted from the lifeless thing to the living +fellow, all too much so, all too much for my peace.... + +Sometimes lately, Reid, I may avow to you, I have stolen out of my +room in the dead of night and stood before his door, stood for hours, +hearkening for a sound; couldn’t at all tell you why—bound there +somehow—and I have shaken my poor head, saying to myself, “No, surely, +I have to cure myself of this folly: a purely scientific interest in +this savage, nothing more”; but still I have stuck at his door. + +Do you understand that this boy is in some points an idiot? It is +only lately that the amazingness of it all has struck and made me a +wrecked man! To a thousand throes and heartburns, learned in a thousand +social niceties by men who dwell with men, he remains a stranger. The +different ways in which one should bend the mind toward one’s brother, +toward one’s mother, one’s friend, and so on, seem to be unknown to +him; I don’t know who is to blame. Never a little tenderness, never +a sign. I _couldn’t_, of course, bring his mind into contact with +the Christian faith from the very nature of the case, the Man of +Christianity being a sorrowful type, while the Man of his fancy was +bound to be a type of power; so that the name of Christ he has never +heard; but his mind was presented with such naïve nature-worship as +that of the Rig-Vedas, Genesis and Job: I thought that it was well.... + +But to return to this birthday-eve of his. We two had made our way back +together in silence, nearly to the castle-gate, when out darts Shan +Healy, wringing hands and crying, “Oh, Master Hannibal, do forgive me, +sir, the glass pot has boiled all over, while I was attending to the +dinner”; whereat Master Hannibal, without waiting to hear another word, +threw Shan out of his way, and rushed into the house, no doubt to see +for himself how the matter stood, for he seems to have left some mess +simmering in his laboratory, had bid Shan look to it, and the thing had +had some mischance. + +“Now, here’s a go for a poor chap, doctor,” says Shan to me, in great +distress; “believe me, I couldn’t avoid it, the thing boiled over so +quick, and what’ll Master Hannibal say now?” + +“Say?” said I, for I was angry, “what can he dare say? Let him go +to the devil, you couldn’t help it, and I order you not to distress +yourself in the slightest.” + +“Ah, doctor, it’s all very well for you to talk,” says he. + +Well, we went into the house, and Shan went down to his kitchen; but +I still hung about the bottom of the stair, being a bit anxious as to +what this being might take it into his nut to do now about his blessed +chemical. All was still during some time, so presently I called sharply +up to him, “What are you at, Hannibal?” No answer, no sound; only the +faint sounds of Shan’s preparations for dinner downstairs. So now I +ran very thievishly up the stairs, and peeped into the laboratory, +but he wasn’t there, and I can only think now that at the sounds of my +steps on the stair, faint as they were, the monkey must have passed +out of the laboratory window, and slipped down the turret by the ivy; +anyway, the next thing that I heard were Shan’s howls coming up out of +the kitchen, upon which I ran down, to find myself locked out, and to +hear within the kitchen the sounds of a head being beaten against the +ground, mingled with Shan Healy’s exclaimings. + +Beside myself with anger, I pounded upon the door, and now at once the +row stopped, and in a moment Shan opened, saying despondently to me, +poor chap, “Oh, doctor, he do use me cruel, sir, cruel, cruel, cruel. +Oh, my poor head—what does he think anybody is made of?” + +My own head was hung with shame; I could do nothing but silently pat my +old companion on his shoulder. + +“Where is he now?” said I. + +“Gone like a shadow through the window, doctor, and down to the shore, +the minute he heard you pounding,” says Shan. “He held me down on the +floor with one hand, and with the other he banged my poor head ... +cruel, cruel. I shouldn’t mind if it was done in a rage, but smiling +as cool as a cucumber, as if anybody’s head was a block of wood he was +playing with.” + +“Well,” I said bitterly, “all your own fault, Shan Healy; you’re too +faithful and good.” And I left him there and went up. + +Well, I dined by myself, my fellow keeping culpably aloof perhaps; and +during the rest of the evening I saw or heard nothing of him till, near +ten in the night, I heard some long way off the bursting of one of +his bombs. A gale was then raging, and it had grown coldish, with that +wet chill which marks this part. So I went to seek a little sleep, but +at about three in the morning rose and went softly to stand outside +the observatory door, to see if I could detect a sound of his through +the row of the storm; and as I so stood, to my surprise, he called to +me, praying me to enter. I did so, to find him sitting at a window, +looking out at all the dark strife of the winds and waters, and at the +bethundered bluff down there below: whereat, without the least mention +of Shan Healy, my man began to blab about the moon, which just then +struggled through into a channel between two cloud-bogs, saying that +our globe, as it seemed to him, might have been made a more suitable +place for living beings, if provided with two moons instead of one. +Being grum and out of sorts at the moment, I told him not to trouble +his small head about that, that things were well as they were, and I +quoted dogmatically to him that “God made two great lights, the greater +light to rule the day, and the lesser light to rule the night.” At this +my chap turns up at me a gaze of the greatest astonishment, asking if +I did really think that some purpose of providing a lamp to the night +had anything to do with the birth and being of the moon. I said yes, I +did think so; on which he anew turns at me a certain searching look of +astonishment, and murmurs something about not daring to question the +truth of my words, but that as a lamp the moon undoubtedly appeared to +be a failure, since she did not shine most nights; sometimes shone for +a short hour only; sometimes shone uselessly during the day, but left +the night orbless—a rather mad sort of lamp—whereas _two_ moons with +such and such parallaxes, of such and such masses.... “Well, never +you mind that,” said I shortly to him, for I thought that I’d better +be mum as to the moon. But he was moon-struck that night, and after +saying that just as she then was, near her full, but not quite, she +reminded him of “The Idiot’s” face when he had gum-boil and swollen-jaw +some years ago—for he’s as simple as a baby in some respects, mind you, +and many things said by the boy that you might think said in fun, are, +in fact, quite grave statements, devoid of any grain of humour on his +part; for though he smiles ever, he hardly ever laughs, so that one’s +cheeks are apt to puff out on a sudden with laughter at his words, as +at the artless freaks of a child’s remarks. Anyhow, after likening the +moon to Shan’s gum-boil face, my boy goes on now to wonder for the +thousandth time how it is that his “Man” never managed to range so +high into space as the moon, for I had soon found myself compelled to +confess to him that man had never yet landed on the satellite, nor did +all the reasons which I could adduce for this fact, such as the absence +of an atmosphere on the moon, and so on, ever suffice to abate his +wonder that the moon should remain unvisited: for little did the man +dream that even the north and south poles of our own planet remain even +now all unknown, let alone the moon! + +Well, sir, he was thus droning to himself as to the moon, and +specifying the modes by which her surface appeared to him attainable, +when in a foolish heat of tenderness I, standing behind him, let my +hand fall on the flesh of his neck, inside the broad flap of his +shirt-collar, and I allowed myself to murmur the word “Boy,” about to +say, “Boy, I am fond of you,” or some such futility, when my fellow +gave me such a gaze of Arctic-cold astonishment—for sheet-lightning +and the strangled moonshine both beshone the darkness of the room, so +that one could see anon—such a gaze, that I was glad to slip away to +conceal the wet in my poor eyes, and I went to sleep. + + + + + CHAPTER IV. + + THE SHIP. + + +The morning after, his birthday, on meeting him at the breakfast-table +as the clock struck eight, I observed to him that he couldn’t have had +much sleep: to which, glancing up from his book, he answered, “Enough +for the needs of my nature, sir, I think, though I was at work at four +minutes before five. The old have greater need of repose, it appears, +while, as to the young, the demagogue Cataline, it is written, could +dispense with sleep almost altogether.” + +“Oho,” said I; “well, let us be eating,” and we sat to the old jug of +porridge and oaten loaf. + +Presently, as we ate, I said to him, “By the way, I want you now to +understand that you are not to knock my servant’s head about any more.” + +His answer was that he had discovered that such occasional visitations +had the effect of slightly heightening the functioning of the idiot’s +wit. + +“Never mind your discoveries,” said I: “you are not to do it, sir.” + +“I will not, sir,” says he with his formal bow, and buries his brow +anew in his volume. + +I for my part could hardly eat, for I was uneasy and excited, and my +fingers kept on going to feel the old stele, which I had in my pocket; +so, fidgeted by his cool reading and feeding, said I to him, “Didn’t +I beg you some time since not to be for ever eating and reading +together, since it is injurious to the digestion, and there’s a time +for everything, as the mightiest minds among men well know.” + +“True, sir,” says my man, “you did speak to me on this subject on +the third of June two years ago, but your words did not give me an +impression of great urgency, so I have dared to disregard them, since, +after all, the digestion of the young is hearty and strong, and the +days are hardly born but they are fled, and it is hard to the foot +to race after the fastness of the horses of time; hence the greater +masters, the minds of white-hot ardour, like Cæsar, always delighted +themselves in the most entangled exercises, like the dictating of a +vast host of letters at once, so as to harbour in their mood a habit of +keeping pace with the fleetness of the passing days.” + +“So true,” said I, “so true; still, it is as well not to eat and read +together; nor are you any longer so ‘young’ as you have been; you know, +of course, that to-day is your birthday.” + +“So I calculate, sir,” says he: “I have now existed apart from the womb +nineteen times as many as three hundred and sixty-five days, less four; +that is to say, six thousand nine hundred and thirty-one days, without +counting some odd hours.” + +“Oho,” said I; “and how are you going to spend the day?” + +“I am engaged in a chemical investigation, sir,” says he, leaning back +now, and balancing a plate on the edge of his forefinger nail, for he +always speedily devoured his food, though with complete mastication, I +believe, and was generally done before I was nearly through. + +“Ah, and what is the investigation?” I asked. + +“You must have noticed, sir,” says he, “the agitation I call it, with +which bismuth acts——” + +“I know exactly what you are going to say,” said I—God forgive +us—“quite so; but look here, before you go I want to show you +something, something that will amuse you; just read me that.” + +On a sudden now, Reid, the moment long waited for had come, for I now +caught the old basalt stele out of my pocket, and laid it before him; +whereat immediately the fellow seemed to feel an interest in the mere +sight of this object, took it up, looked it up and down and round +about, smiling his smile, his brow twitching into momentary frowns. + +“Why, sir,” says he suddenly, “where did you come upon this stone?” + +“That’s not the point,” said I; “I got it in Abyssinia, but that’s not +the point; just read it.” + +“It is mainly enchorial and alphabetic,” he breathes aloud, peering +into the thing, “but with a great number of syllabary signs, and vowel +matres lectionis——” + +“Yes, I know; read it,” said I, painfully conscious within myself of +being pale in the face. + +“Strange,” says he to himself: “both Sahidic and Memphitic, but mainly +Memphitic——” + +“Yes, I tell you, I know,” said I; “read it, read it, boy.” + +He hesitated, sir, and I felt growing within me an agitation almost too +great to be any more restrained. + +“Have _you_ read it, sir?” he suddenly asks, raising his eyes to my +face; and I was foolishly conscious that my eyes drooped before his, +even as in a tone of protest I answered, “Why, naturally! I only give +it to you as a little exercise to amuse you; just read the whole thing +right off.” + +Now, sir, he puts the bit of a stele on the table, and he bends his +brow studiously over it, supporting his head between his hands. + +“Seven of the words are purposely secret,” says he to himself; “it is +not an easy cypher....” + +“Well, I know, I know that,” said I, deadly anxious now, “that’s why +I give it to you—for a little fun on your birthday; just read it off, +boy, to please me.” + +“Ah, I see,” says he all at once: “this whole half-line is a long rebus +or pun; the sound of each ideograph combines with the third following +to form a word: that is clearly the idea of the inventor; I can trace +his thought; I see. Oh, it is not difficult, sir!” + +“Good—very good,” said I; “then just read it right off, and go up to +your science, boy,” for I felt my face growing white with excitement, +seeing that, in spite of his brave words, the man’s manner showed some +hesitation, and lower and lower bent his head over the thing. + +“A moment, sir,” he murmurs, “one moment; your servant is slow and +dull, but”—something; and another minute went by in a silence that +was most bitter to me to bear, till, all in a scare, I called to him, +“Well, but haven’t you done it _yet_?” + +“Yes, sir, I think——” he falters. + +“Then read it!” + +“In Coptic?” + +“In English.” + +Now, very deliberately, my man begins to utter syllables, his brow +between his hands bent low down over the symbols, and, syllable by +syllable, says he, “It is graved on a golden brick within the grave of +Arunzebe, that when the white strangers from over the Great Hill came +with fire and warfare, then did eighty princes bear together their +braveries for safety, and they heaped them into the grave of Arunzebe. +Even a spirit (_nat_) could scarce penetrate to their secret place, nor +could a rain of men, straining through many days, attain to them. There +is the Silence that annihilates. Let no man strive to visit them at——” + +There my man stopped short. “At,” he repeated, but couldn’t go on, and +there in the shameful silence he sat now frowning into the thing with a +sort of haughty, excruciated self-surprise, but without progress. + +“Well?” said I, and my looks, I know, were ghastly, for all that he had +read of the thing I, too, long ago had read, though I admit that it had +cost me some few months of effort. + +“At, sir,” says he, more to himself than to me, “at—something; fifteen +other ideographs remain, making three words, I am certain. But they are +without determinatives, and their outlines are so blurred, they bring +no meaning, no meaning—to my mind; they seem to belong....” + +“Better say at once, Hannibal, that you can’t read the epigraph!” I +cried out. + +“_You_ have read it, sir, no doubt?” says he for the second time with, +I fancied now, just a touch of scepticism somewhere. + +“Why, naturally, boy!” I cried, with such a noise that, at the moment, +I almost believed it myself. “Can’t _you_, then?” + +“It is strange, sir,” says he, “it seems to contain _htar_, and the old +verb _secha_, to write.... Pray, bear with your servant a little, sir, +I shall read the words, I see clearly that I _can_, if you will only +vouchsafe me a little time—down by the seashore.” + +“Time,” said I, with some disdain; “why _time_? The human mind should +strike and divide like the very scythe of the lightning!... And how +much time?” + +“If I may have half an hour on the shore, sir,” says he, rather +down-heartedly, and as I knew that his mind usually rose to the height +of any problem which bothered him with a lighter spring down there amid +the droning of the waves, I said nothing when he took up the little +stone, and passed out through the door. And so, Reid, we parted without +one last clasp of the hand after nineteen years, for that was four +days ago, and neither Shan nor I have since seen him. He is gone, he +is no longer on Shunter, that is our one certainty: he may be drowned, +or he may be living, but on Shunter he no longer is, I’ll vow. After +waiting in suspense an hour, nearly two hours, for him to return with +the basalt stele, I despatched Shan Healy from the castle to seek him +over the shore, and to command him to come back to me. When Shan was +gone on this errand, I took my stand at a window, looking anxiously out +over the eastern shores and over the rolling ground of the sea: and +while there I chanced to catch sight of a schooner, about the size of +a dove, some two leagues to eastward, breasting southward through that +gaudy kind of haze that shrowds with a gauze of azure the bridal and +gala glances of the brighter days on these islands. But little did I +heed her then, nor to this moment do I know that she had anything to +do with the vanishing of the young man. Meantime, Shan did not come +back, Hannibal did not come back, and at last, angry and anxious, I +ran out of the castle, and had got some half a mile over the western +shore before I encountered Shan Healy dashing back to the castle in +a white heat, with a wild countenance, hardly able to gasp out the +words, “Found this, doctor,” as he paraded before my marvelling gaze +a paltry square of cloth and lace, a lady’s handkerchief, marked with +the initials “R. V.,” and tainted with some effluvium of stale perfume. +That thing on Shunter shore! My heart failed me, Reid: for the young +man’s notions of female man had so far been gathered only from certain +Greek and Egyptian urn-traceries, meagre things; and I thought that +if eye of his had indeed fallen that morning upon the carnal fact of +womanhood, then it would be small wonder if all were lost, and his +parting from me an everlasting parting. For fourteen years, so far as +we know, no human foot but those of us three has passed over those +peats and marshes of Shunter; no spar nor oar has approached within +even half a league of its shores; but when Shan and I had run together +to the little harbour at the north, where the bit of a flag-staff +stands, we found the boat empty of the two pairs of half-tame +_motacillæ lugubres_ which had made nests in her, and half-way down +to the edge of the low tide I found the sands much trampled. Unknown +to us, some craft had put in there, had anchored, and had departed, +perhaps taking with her what far surpassed the understanding of those +on her. Shan and I, having separated, searched each of us one of the +promontories which enclose the harbour like claws, since, being dark +with growths of bush, they seemed worth the searching: and on the east +side I found, far out toward the last rocks, a track of footsteps going +down to the sea, going, alas, without return: and they seemed to me, +though I could hardly be certain, rather like the track of sandals +than of boots, in which case he may have chosen that place to swim +off to the craft in the harbour, so as to stow himself away below—I +don’t know. If so, it is remarkable that he should have acted in that +fashion. At first we fancied that, maddened by the sight of man and +woman, the boy might have started to swim to Barra, and have been +destroyed by a shark or a narwhal _en route_. But we are still quite +in the dark as to the actual truth. Shan afterwards discovered half a +bon-bon—a bitten bit of chocolate—amid the kelp on the shore, and no +more know we of it.... + +Such, then, is the close of our eighteen years of the cloister on +Shunter. Without a message of good-bye to his father the boy is gone. +But, after all, I should have known beforehand, I should have guessed: +for latterly he has been most museful, given to porings over the ocean +through half a night, with more, perhaps, going on in the soul of him +than I had any notion of, for we least of all see and know those that +are nearest us, Reid; we see their faces and only fancy that we see +themselves. Anyhow, it is all passed and over now; the little castle +that was our home, that I had grown to love, and hoped that he, too, +had grown to love, stands now lone through grey days, and darkling +through nightlongs of thunderous weather without us: for, as I have +told you, we have passed over to Barra in the boat, we two and the dog, +and the poor mare and cows and goats will go hungry now, no doubt, or +will soon grow to the humour of the guillemots and herring-gulls on the +crags, and become sea-things, goblin of eye, like the tangles of kelp +on the shore, or the stench of the ocean’s throat, or the pools remote +from the foot of men with little bleaks brooding in their green glooms, +or the inclemency of gales that gather over this sea. I tell you truth, +man, I am sad, for nineteen years of life is not nothing, Reid. The +young man’s gone, and how he is going to adjust himself to the world, +and how the world is going to manage to adjust itself to _him_—God +only knows. His books will become covered with particles of peat now; +our little garth, with its darg of peat heaped in one corner for our +fire next winter, will hearken now no more, alas, to the echoes of our +passing; our little garden will grow wild; and Shunter will forget +the unlasting foot of man and boy, to go back anew with joy to the +largeness and boisterous ocean-mood of her past, and the charm of her +harsh old solitude. To-morrow, I hope, we shall be able to take boat to +Uist, and so to the mainland, but I’m not sure, this poor Shan Healy is +so beastly seedy and down in the mouth ... etc., etc. + + + + + CHAPTER V. + + “MISS EVE.” + + +At this point the statement of Dr. Lepsius becoming devoid of interest +for us, we may next take up that of one Jeanne Auvache, where she +writes (in French, with no eye to _us_, but quite for her own behoof): + + * * * * * + +... The next (Tuesday) morning, near nine, the yacht anew dropped her +anchor within the claws of a creek in an island called Shunter: for the +weather was fine and the sea smooth, so Miss Ruth and Miss Eve, each +wishing to seek for more dolomites, weeds, and other suchlike things of +the sea, and to place their feet on still a new shore, were pleased to +land. I had already massaged, bathed, and coiffured Miss Eve, brought +the two ladies their chocolate, and now had sat to costume yet another +doll for Miss Ruth, when Miss Ruth comes to give me to know that she is +about to go to land, and suggests that that should amuse me to come too +with her: for she is ever good, as befits one who has the reputation +of a saint, and who feels bound, no doubt, to keep it up. As for me, I +little believe in saints, since all beings are as alike as two drops +of water, the one to the other, at bottom—all save one, perhaps; and +though it is a thing hardly to be questioned that, if a true saint +does live, then it is this Ruth Vickery, still, I little believe in +saints, I. Nor is it such a great matter that Miss Ruth should do me +these little graces and goodnesses, inasmuch as I am not really her +maid—I am the maid of Miss Eve—and not bound to be for ever sitting +down dressing dolls for the brats in the hospitals of London; and if +it were merely Miss Eve, I should have very little to do through some +hours of the day: but Miss Ruth finds ever some charitable work to +which to bind me down, and if thou wert now so young as thou once wast, +it is not thou, Jeanne, my cherished one, I think, that would long +endure this demure quietude and existence of a recluse. But patience, +do not yet despair; thou hast been beautiful, thou hast been loved! +Yes, and now, it appears, thou art anew beloved. It was not, then, all +in vain that I have lived, and the world may not be altogether so dirty +a bog of egotism and rotted dogs as I have lately grown to regard it. +Heavens! that is droll—I feel myself anew young! The sky looks bluer, +my feet would be almost dancing, and I am no more morose within myself +at everything: for with a few touches of art there is nought which may +not yet be hidden, and it is as if all the mirrors had of late years +conspired to make me appear to myself plainer than I really am, since, +as a matter of fact, I find the flesh under my jaws yet firmly plump, +my eyes glow as gaudily as a girl’s, their creases have existed chiefly +in my fears, and each day I appear to myself to grow more fit to please. + +But how little does one know what is before oneself! The boat had been +already lowered down into the water when, having put aside the dressing +of the dolls, I went up on deck and saw Miss Ruth, Miss Eve, Lord +Astor, Miss Savage, and Monsieur le Comte de Courcy ready to descend +to go to the shore, though Mr. Vickery did not go to the shore, but +abided on the ship’s poop perusing his big Bible through his glasses. +When we had come to the shore, the ladies were taken out of the boat +both by the sailors and by the gentlemen, and Monsieur le Comte de +Courcy, one may be sure, took care to be he who lifted out Miss Eve, +while, as for me, I was left to be taken out by a mariner who, in doing +it, embraced me, I think, with intention. In the boat it had been said +that the island was uninhabited, but, to our surprise, we found a +“coble” or sail-boat, with a brown sail, with the rags of a philibeg, +and with a pair of the sort of shoes which they call “brogues” in it, +lying in some bushes; also a little inland, on some waste land over +which many peewees and moorfowl were chattering their screeches, we +found the ruin of a long shed, built of loose stones, with a roof of +turf; also on the sands a sort of post or flag-staff: all showing that +there were, or had once been, people on this place. On the shore the +party split into two parts, Miss Ruth and Miss Savage marching off one +way, and Monsieur de Courcy and Lord Astor following after Miss Eve as +insects infest a feast of sweetmeat, while I was left to wander as I +would. I therefore walked alone over that claw of the coast which was +to the left as one looked toward the sea, where I paced in shade over a +species of peat between bush and briar, which was deep on either hand, +though little higher than my head, with thousands of gulls and whaups +whistling and crying together in the air around me; and meantime, +whatever seemed rare or strange, such as a weed or a piece of flint, +I picked it up to keep for the ladies’ pleasure. In this manner I +was engaged, waging war on the fog of midges that sang and stung my +face, when, at a place where the glow of the morning’s sun was quite +extinguished under the shade of the bush, I all at once felt within +myself the instinct that two great eyes were regarding me from the +darkness of an ambush. I sprang up from my stooping with affright! And +it proved no fancy, for there, a yard before and to the right of me, +I beheld, yes, two ardent eyes, glowing huge and close to the ground, +it might be those of a tiger crouching, only that they were as dark as +night. No second glance I gave, but with my heart in my mouth ran my +hardest back toward the sands, awaiting at every instant the devouring +teeth of a beast in my rear. Nothing, however, pursued me, and at +length, seeing this, I halted, even ventured back a few feet, peering +forward: for I have never lacked bravery, I, and am not to be terrified +by a mere pair of eyes like that; but I could now see nothing, though, +as I stood peering, my ear seemed to catch through the leafage not +far from me a sharp rush which afresh had the effect of putting me to +flight. However, I was about once more to stop to pry round, when the +whistle of our boatswain sounded to summon me, and I ran down to the +boat, where I found all our party already come back to embark. + +When the ladies had been again placed in the boat, and we were all +again on the water making toward the yacht, Miss Ruth, noticing my +looks, remarked to me, “Why are you so pale?” and I then related to +them my adventure in the dark of the bush, how two eyes had glared +strangely at me from the ground, and had scared me. At this all the +talk stopped short, and no small astonishment was shown at my hap: +for all had thought that the island bore on it no form of life except +those of the smaller sea-fauna, as sea-birds and suchlike, so that, in +short, I was the centre of the interest of all the world for a while, +and every eye looked toward me. Miss Savage took the view that it must +have been my “fancy,” but I at once quashed such a notion by a gush of +assurances, whereat Monsieur le Comte de Courcy gave his opinion that +it was the eyes of “the genius of the place” which I had seen, Lord +Astor thought that they were “the eyes of Hermes searching the island +for the nymph Lamia,” and Miss Eve believed that “more of inhabitants +crowd in the village than count in the census; each grove harbours its +ghost, heart-sighs and eyes are about——” in the midst of which argument +the boat reached the yacht, and at once our anchor was tackled, our +canvas thrown to the breeze, and we started out upon the last part of +the voyage, no more to tarry till our craft should be at her buoy on +the coast of Scotland. + +Well, now, I come to the event: I am about to write it! During the +hours of the forenoon I had been mainly bound down to the dressing of +Miss Ruth’s dolls; during those of the afternoon I had found my hands +full enough with the making ready of the trunks, and with the thousand +other little last cares that crowd upon one before a disembarking: +and it was now evening, about half-past eight o’clock, when, passing +out of Miss Eve’s apartment, I went in a hurry round into my own to +get and bring out her older brown gown. My wee apartment was quite +in darkness; I was able merely to see the circle of my window, near +under which, it being on the lee-side of the leaning ship, one was +able to hear like a dirging the seething of the sea’s surge sweep by +toward the rear. So now I reached out my hand to switch on the light, +and at that moment it was that it came upon me, while I, in a blue +affright, gave up everything, recommending my soul to the good God, +for it was as if thirty-six[A] tigers flung their weight against me, +and in the very same breath, as it seemed to me, I found myself lying +on the ground, my feet bound together, and my mouth gagged with my +apron; and so instantly were all these different performances done to +me, that I understood, I remember, that I must be under the power of +at least three ruffians. Heavens, that moment! I lay as it were given +over and drowned far down in the gloom of the tomb, and I said within +myself, “Jeanne, thou art finished now,” for one could not catch one’s +breath, nor cry out, nor see anything! However, by a cunning move—for +I was ever astute and deep in an extremity, I, and not to be done for +so easily like that—I managed to jerk myself sharply upward a little, +remembering that the switch was just above, and by a feat of luck my +free arm, reaching wildly up, chanced to touch this switch, upon which +the apartment was flooded with light, and I saw, to my bewilderment, +that my tormentor was not many, but one. At once I had a sigh of escape +and of regained hope, for though his right hand still held the gag, I +could understand at the flash of the light that it was not a butcher, +but a suppliant, who knelt at my side; and at once with that flash of +light his lips were passionately at my ear, panting words so warm and +queer, that I half questioned whether I heard him well when the young +fellow whispered wildly to me that he knew that I am a woman and wanted +me for his wife. Heavens! of the two surprises of my situation here +was the greater! For I could scarce believe that he was jeering at me, +seeing that he gave utterance to his words with so earnest a _naïveté_, +so that I wondered whether I had to do with a lunatic! And even in the +thick of my fears, I was so pierced with a feeling of the queerness +of the young man’s remark, “I know that you are a woman,” that I had +to laugh within myself! for I was suddenly light-hearted and relieved +in that he wanted me to be his wife rather than to be his victim. +Again he made me hear his demand in a pant at my ear, this time with a +glance in his gallant eyes which made me afresh apprehensive, and gave +me to guess that the penalty of hesitation might be grave; so with my +finger I now indicated the stuffing in my mouth, whereat he told me to +nod my yes or no, so, to humour him, I nodded yes, I would wed him! +He now demanded of me a vow that I would not betray him “to Man” (as +he said), till the ship should come to land, and this, too, I vowed +with movements of my head and with my uplifted hand. But little did he +trust me! for, on releasing me, he flew to the door, and had it secured +before I was yet even on my feet. We then stood staring the one at the +other, both bosoms labouring, and during some moments my tongue seemed +to be unable to dare to address this being, till on a sudden I said to +him, “But you are deranged! Who, then, are you?” to which his answer in +the lowest whisper was that he was “Hannibal Lepsius.” + +[A] Anglicè: a dozen, a hundred. + +“Little that imports to me, your name,” said I: “I wish to know, since +you are not one of the ship’s company, how came you here?” + +His answer was a whisper at my ear that I already broke my vow, since +I spoke loudly enough, he said, to be heard by everyone throughout the +vessel; but that since he was now certain that he was more powerful +than I, therefore he would throw me down, and bind me anew, if I +betrayed him “to Man.” + +At this I stood scared, half-laughing within myself, for I seemed to +have to do with a quixote or one crazed! but because of the beauty of +his young face and form, and of some _naïveté_, and of some power, +that was all about the young man, I could not be cross with him, for +I declare that in some way he at the same time touched my soul with +compassion, with mockery, and with awe of him, so that I craved at the +same moment to become his mother and his love, his protectress and his +slave. Something odder than anything in the world—in his looks, his +words, his being—widened my eyes with the wondering of a babe, and +made life a new thing to me ... he had sandals on his feet, a belt, no +jacket, no hat ... he seemed to me fleet enough to leap up and fly with +pinions. At this menace of his to bind me anew I said to him, “But you +must have taken leave of your senses, as it seems to me! for I spoke +scarcely above a whisper, which no one could possibly hear.” + +As I said this, my young man, without saying more, drops on a sudden +down, with his hands outstretched to me: and when I said to him, “Well, +what now?” his answer was a prayer not to be untrue to him, but to hide +him “from Man” and be his wife! + +I laughed anew at this within myself! for he seemed to be blind to my +forty-one foundered summers, and the flowers that withered in them, he +a youth of hardly twenty years. So I said to him, “Get away with you, +for you are crazy; how do you know that I am not already a married +woman with a husband?” on which he told me very secretly that in any +case he believed it to be possible that he should be able to make me +one of “the most sovereign of ladies,” and with that he presents me +with a piece of stone, resembling an ink-bottle, saying to me, “Read +that.” + +“What is this now?” said I, turning the thing round in my hands, since +I could see nothing to read, only some holes cut in the stone; upon +which he repeated his demand that I should “read” it, telling me that +it was partly in Coptic and partly in—some long expressions which I did +not comprehend. + +“I know nothing of this,” said I to him, handing him back the piece +of stone, whereat he peered piercingly at me a moment, and then all +at once a light seemed to dawn upon his mind, and he rose up from his +knees saying to himself, “I thought so.” + +“Thought what?” said I to him, but to this he made no reply, only +smiled upon me. + +He gave me an impression of some young god gone mad! “You are hardly +very polite,” I said to him, “and another woman might think you a +little crazed, since at one moment you crave to be my husband, and +at another moment you smile upon me as upon some ninny,” to which he +replied something about being bound to adore me, ninny or no, inasmuch +as I am so adorable! + +“Why, get you gone,” I said to him, “you have hardly had time to see me +yet!” + +He asked me how much time was necessary, and if he had not gazed at me +through the bushes? + +“Those, then, were your eyes that gazed there at Shunter through the +bushes at me?” said I; “and you found me beautiful? What, then, could +you have found so very beautiful about me, my face, or my figure—or +both?” to which he replied, “Both.” + +“And do you mean,” said I to him, “that it was merely through love of +me that you concealed yourself in the yacht? What a sudden flame of +passion! But I am at a loss to know how you could come here!” on which +he explained that he had swum under water from the shore. + +“But how could you possibly steal down here without being seen?” I +asked him, to which he replied that “that question of itself charged me +with a drowsy consciousness.” + +His little smile of a superior man (_petit sourire d’homme supérieur_)! +“Well,” said I fondly to him, “you, for your part, are of a wakeful +consciousness, and I, for mine, am beautiful both in face and form, +is it not so? and it is a pair of us, is it not? But since we are now +about to come to land, tell me this——” but before I could utter another +word I heard the call of “Jeanne,” and was recalled by it to this +world. It was the voice of Miss Eve who called me, and ere I could find +my tongue to reply she called again, “Jeanne, where are you?” but I +could not answer her, my eyes were fixed upon the boy, who now appeared +lost in a joyous attention to the call, and with his finger held up +gave deep into my ear a whisper of “Sweet voice.” Whereat I, being a +little perturbed, turned from him, switched off the light, whispered +him to await my return there, and went out in haste to Miss Eve, +wondering within myself how in Heaven’s name I was now to restrain him +from making the acquaintance of other ladies. + + + + + CHAPTER VI. + + THE TOWERS. + + +Jeanne Auvache thus continues: It all went beautifully, the landing. He +had the wit, on appearing suddenly, to take upon his back the trunk of +Miss Eve, which he bore over the pier to the little station, and in the +dimness must have seemed to the sailors a porter, and to the porters +a sailor. He did not see anyone in the light of the station, save a +stationmaster in his uniform, and I praised Heaven that the train was +a special one which carried none save our party. As she moved, he ran +from the outer dark to the door of the compartment in which I stood +beckoning him, and skipped in beautifully, so that we two went quite +alone. Ah, but he trembled—all the way, so that one could see his +jaws chattering anon. When I kept on saying to him, “But why do you +so shiver?” he confessed to me that he felt fear. “But fear of what +specially?” I asked, and when I pressed him he replied, “of Man and of +my father.” I compassionated, but could scarce comprehend him, and I +felt myself abashed and banished from contact with his soul, for though +we were side by side, yet he was alone, and I was alone. I could only +console myself with the thought that I had to do with an _ingénu_—a +beautiful fault soon enough to be cured. But such an _ingénu_! one +dropped down from the moon, as it looked to me. His curiosity about +the train! for, to begin with, it was his terrors and tremblings that +were uppermost, and then it was his curiosity struggling with them. +His eyes were wide with an amazement which at first I took to be the +natural amazement of a rustic suddenly plunged into the thick of the +wonders of civilisation, until I learned that his amazement was not +at the speed, but at the slowness, with which the train was creeping! +This caused me to laugh within myself! “Why, we must be flying at fifty +miles an hour,” I said to him: “how much more do you wish?” But he did +not appear to pay much heed to my statements, and continued to rush +about the compartment, touching this and that, now springing up to peer +into the lamp, now darting down to lie and pry under the seats, gazing +into the make of the window, tapping the woodwork with his fingers, +all with so eager a zeal, my God! with the omnipresence of a monkey +imprisoned in a crib, and trembling all the time with excitement, as +I could see. What most of all amazed him was the size of the train! +Why, he wished to know, was this particular train so miserable a thing, +seeing that its largeness could be vastly increased with only a paltry +increase of the motive force. “But are not all trains of the same +size?” I said to him: “they are of a certain size, that is all; one +does not know why they are so, and this is no smaller than the others.” +But after starting and staring at me, in a moment, as if he regarded me +as an ignoramus that did not know what I was saying, he told me with +disdain that most trains were raging palaces, though this one, for some +sage motive that he did not understand, was not so. + +I began then to recognise that he must have lived wholly buried away +from actualities amid those islands of the sea, for his ignorance of +life could scarce be greater, since he harbours the most laughably +large notions of the glory and achievements of beings: and I was glad +within myself at this, and resolved that he should be kept like that up +to the day following my marriage with him. But even as I was thinking +this within myself, what was my astonishment when he informed me that I +am a Frenchwoman, and spoke thenceforth to me in very passable French +of Bordeaux! So that here is a rustic with a difference. + +When we had arrived at Thring we found that, though the sun had not +yet risen up, the night had now been replaced by daylight, and the +birds were loud at their works in the silence of the world. I had by +that time told him by what way to make to the brink of the river, and +where to await my coming to him there under the ruin: so some moments +before the train stopped he leapt from the door on the off side, and +hied off over the metals. A moment more and laughter was sounding on +the platform, and I looked out to see Miss Eve alighted, calling out +to her father, while she fingered her now withered violets of Parma, +that getting home in the dawn was like dying to earth and a getting to +heaven, and immediately her father was to be seen stepping down out +of his compartment, on his arm Miss Ruth, and the rest of the party +trooping out after. Anne and I, having then assisted to carry the rugs +to the carriages outside, set out together in the mail-phaeton for +The Towers some minutes later than the others: and we found a gaiety +in returning once again after so much of London and the sea, for +everything is good in its turn, but a curse upon too much of any one +condition of being. So down the mountain through the townlet to the +river we drove in a procession, and up the mountain beyond, no one yet +to be met on the roads, but one constable, and the day slowly working +about us toward its birth. + +After our arrival at The Towers, having first perfumed Miss Eve’s bath +with the infusion of frangipane and ambergris, and then got her hair +prepared while she perused an accumulation of her correspondence, I put +her to bed, she impressing it upon me that I, too, must take a nap. I +had other thoughts than napping, tired as I was! all my nerves tingling +at the whispered word within me that love was now again by God’s +goodness about to be mine in this dog’s world. The moment, therefore, +that I was free, I was down and away, tapping my face with powder, +taking from the larder and housemaid’s pantry a parcel of bread, meat, +and preserves, and down by the river found him seated in a cavern of +the cliffs, searching into the interior of wild plants which he had +slit with a knife. He was still visibly atremble with excitement, but +did not rise when I came to him, continuing to gaze into the make +of the plants, having recognised my coming step, as I think. But on +a sudden he started upright with something of a laugh, and made the +remark, gazing upward at the sky and around at the girdle of mountains, +that it was a world worthy of “Man” to circulate in. “It is more +imposing than those islands of the sea, is it not?” said I to him, +and he replied, “Yes,” for that those are mostly of bog and boulders, +with hags in between, but that these parts are made of stones with +strange names, so many millions of ages old; only he wished to know +what creatures could live in those sheds over the river, and looked +dumfounded when I informed him that they are the ordinary houses of +a country townlet! But he scarce seems to believe my statements. The +windows, he remarked, can only be opened half-way at the most to take +in the fresh air, and when I gave him to know that all English windows +are of this sort, though French windows fully open, this caused him to +fall into so extraordinary a marvelling, that one had to laugh! For one +kind must be ideally the better, he said, so why do we find the British +tied to one kind, and the French married to another? But this I was +unable to make plain to him, and he remained in his surprise. + +I now went into the question of our wedding, telling him how everything +could be fixed up in some days, how I found myself possessed of two +hundred pounds funded out of my earnings, which amount would serve +nicely for our small _ménage_, till he should have found his niche in +the world; and I engaged myself to see to everything as to getting the +licence from the surrogate, as I desired him meanwhile to hide in the +church-steeple near St. Peter, whither twice a day I would fetch him +a meal: for I did not wish him to see the world at all as yet, and +so, working on his awes as to his father, I warned him that he would +certainly be caught, if he but once looked forth of his hiding; though, +_after_ our marriage, I said, he could safely range out anywhere, since +the laws would not allow his father to take him out of his spouse’s +arms. + +As to this he bent his head; but as to bringing him meals, he made +the observation that that was not worth the trouble, inasmuch as he +frequently exercised himself in abstaining from eating for a week at +a time, and he asked if he might not remain in the cave where he was, +in order that he might peep at the people passing over the opposite +rivershore: to which, as I could see no reason against it, I gave my +consent, and even agreed that he should come to meet me in the east +shrubbery of The Towers that evening about nine. So, having given him +to observe the zig-zag running down round the mountain’s brow from The +Towers, I ran from him. + + + + + CHAPTER VII. + + THE TERRACES. + + +Arrived at The Towers, I first slumbered a couple of hours, and then, +the day still early, returned to my mistress’ bedside. She had bidden +me wake her, but I just massaged her with a gentle touch, contemplating +with a smile of pleasure that face whose charms I am soon no more to +behold: and never did she show to me in so angel-like a light as then, +for everything is suddenly changed in me, I find myself inclined to +be kindly-minded to everybody, and then Miss Eve is ever beguiling, +from her very breathing being given forth a breeze fraught with that +fainting fragrance of frangipane, which is as essentially a part of +her self as are her eyes or her smile. When her lids unclosed of their +own action she once more bathed, and it was when I was doing her hands +in making her toilette for the forenoon that she begged me to bear +tea with my own hands to her, if she should happen to be in the small +drawing-room after four that afternoon. + +I at once suspected an interview with Monsieur le Comte de Courcy, +and this proved true: for on looking into the small drawing-room in +the afternoon, I saw the two alone at a window, and when I presently +stole in bearing the tray, there they still were, Miss Eve considering +something that had been entreated of her with her head bent, while +Monsieur le Comte, in his grey frock-coat, spoke pressingly at her, +eagerly fingering his imperial. Now, the sight of lovemaking always +profoundly agitates me, causing me a shivering round my right knee; so, +having announced the tea in a mutter, I could not, on stealing out, +tear my ears away, but stood there by the stair-top, hung upon what +was said; and presently could hear the Minister of the Interior say, +“You have permitted me to hope these four months,” then mumble, mumble, +and then the lips of Miss Eve were speaking, saying, “Days have their +weirds and their weathers, if Thursday its drought, perchance Friday +its showers: somehow to-day I am dull, empty of every reply.” “Only +whisper to me the word ‘hope,’” I then heard Monsieur the Minister +implore with much agitation, though what answer was made to this I +could not catch; and he then said, “Soon?” to which she replied, “Soon +necessarily, since you are going.” So he asked her, “To-morrow?” and +the answer given was, “Well, to-morrow, if God will,” at which point I +saw the boy-in-buttons rushing up, so went away. + +For the evening Miss Eve had arranged for the party a ball, to which +came a troop of neighbour visitors, though Miss Ruth and Mr. Vickery, +of course, kept themselves from the levity of it. So, after preparing +Miss Eve’s third bath—Miss Ruth, I have heard, considers it to be +“worldly” to bathe her body as frequently as once in a week, as nuns +believe!—after bathing Miss Eve anew, I advised her to put on for the +evening the Chantilly over-skirt and the pearls, for I knew that Miss +Savage in her crimson robe would be making Miss Eve’s pink appear +pale; and having aided nature one wee bit by a touch on her cheeks, +her lashes, and her eye-brows, I turned her out an object _chic_ to +kiss the hand at, proudly certain in myself that she must prove the +finest-costumed of the company; and still I had uttered no word to her +as to my leaving her service immediately, it was so immense a step, +like a ravine from which I shrank. + +After dinner, till nearly nine, I was down in the housekeeper’s place, +making a pretence at playing cards, and some moments after nine rose +to rush off to meet him in the east shrubbery, as arranged; but just +then my bell summoned me, and when I went to the shrubbery ten minutes +late, with a rush of terrors I became aware that he was not there. I +ran my hardest now, my heart raised to Heaven in a prayer that nothing +had happened—down the mountain to the cliffs, down their face to his +cave. He was not there, and I wrung my hands together in an anguish +of apprehension, begging the good God not once again to bring me all +the gall of the draught of frustration to drain to the dregs, and the +bitterish bread of drabness to chew for ever: for there he was not, +and where he could have gone to I could not guess. Thinking at last +that I might have missed him in coming, I made my way back up, with +runs and stoppages to take my breath, came back to the shrubbery, but +failed to find him there. However, on looking out across the lake, I +saw in the moonlight that laved the lawn-terraces two forms: one of +them Miss Ruth, pacing there with her gaze poring upon the zodiac, +and her rubric of devotion hung between her fingers; the other, whom +I could just perceive, was lying flat, peeping into the drawing-room +through a window, and I knew that it was he, for a rumour of the music +and dancing came faintly to me there, and I knew that this must have +seduced him to it. I could not but feel pleased to find him, but to +my feet my being was pierced with fear to see him lying there, peeping +carefully in. In a minute, however, he bounded to his feet, hearing, +I presume, the step of Miss Ruth, and he ran some paces, looking back +at her; but when she beckoned to him he waited, and in a minute I +perceived them standing together engaged in speech. + +I crept then through the bushes of the lake’s edge, till I came to the +lawn; and there, observing their backs turned toward me, I stalked +still further forward on my hands and knees, till I was in concealment +beneath the stonework of a terrace—little dreaming that I had been +overheard; and thence I heard the voice of Miss Ruth saying to the boy, +“But you must have lived in a strange isolation never to have heard +speak of Jesus Christ?” upon which he, gazing down upon the ground, +said in a low tone that he was altogether ignorant, till two days ago +having never met with anyone save his father and an idiot. + +“Poor dear boy!” coos the voice of Miss Ruth, who, being but +twenty-five years of age, has scarcely the right, I think, thus to +soothe a youth of twenty. “And where,” says she, “was this?” + +In a tone in his throat he replied, “On an island of the Outer +Hebrides.” + +“Why, I am even now from there!” she told him. “But your father, has he +also never known the blessed name of Jesus?” + +He answered her that his father possesses the sum of worldly wisdom, +but that he had never at all heard from his father any mention of this +personage. + +“Why, this is strange!” she cries in a maze, with her azure eyes of a +child widely agape at him: “to think of such pagans living in Christian +England! Do you not, then, know the words ‘Christian,’ ‘Christianity,’ +‘Christendom’?” + +To this he answered that he had never heard these words. + +“Tell me this, then,” said she: “in what year is it that we are now +living?” to which he made her the amazing answer that we are now in the +year six hundred thousand three hundred and sixty-three. + +At this reply Miss Ruth smiled, and during some time appeared wrapped +in silent prayer, until she suddenly asked him, “From what event, then, +do you date this vast sum of years?” + +“From the presumed date of the evolution of human life from the +ape-state,” was his reply. + +For a few moments Miss Ruth mused upon the young man, then threw up her +hands with drollery in her little human way which just rescues her from +being angelic; and she asked him, “But are not all dates reckoned among +us from the Lord Christ?” + +At these words of hers he seemed extremely perplexed, and, after +frowning upon the ground, asked her if the Lord Jesus Christ was a +Greek or a Roman. + +“He was a Hebrew!” cries Miss Ruth. + +“With an Arianised name,” said he: “lived, then, under the later +Romans.” + +“Just so,” said she: “how much you know for one of your station, and +how little!” + +“How little,” he said, and on a sudden knelt to her, begging her to +bear with his ignorance, for that she was much more gracious and +merciful to discourse with him than he deserved, as he was not only +strange to the world, but his brain, moreover, was all in a whirl, +inasmuch as he had only just made away from his father’s control, nor +had ever before been intoxicated with strains of harmony such as those +escaping from out of the house, nor beheld such blessed beings as she +and those fabulous beldams moving beautifully to music over the floor +of the drawing-room.... Upon this Miss Ruth raised him up, bid him +wait, and, moving to a window of the drawing-room, peeped in to Miss +Eve, becking her to come, too, to inspect the curiosity. I disliked +her for it, since there was little need for him ever to have seen Miss +Eve near at hand, save for this. At all events, out stepped Miss Eve +now, very tall in the sheen of the moon, Miss Ruth seeming a midget +near her, and even when the three stood face to face, still Miss Eve +appeared the tallest of all. So Miss Ruth recounted now in how odd a +solitude the young man had spent his existence, and then fell anew to +talking of the Lord Christ, he eyeing Miss Eve steadily with the corner +of his wild eye, speaking with a drooped head to Miss Ruth, eyeing +steadily Miss Eve; till now Miss Ruth cried out, “He was man and God, +too!” and only then did the ogler, peering in surprise at her, cease to +eye Miss Eve. Immediately now, too, his meekness appeared to cease, for +looking straight now at Miss Eve, he asked her if she also shared this +belief. + +Miss Eve had as yet uttered not a word, but now with her eyes turned +downward, her lips muttered, “Why, yes.” + +He smiled, and at the same time looked perfectly perplexed, turning his +stare from one to the other lady, until Miss Ruth remarked to him, “Do +not doubt it, though it is marvellous in all our eyes, so that even the +cherubic natures of the skies deeply brood with admiration upon it,” +and he then very impolitely replied to her that her consciousness of +the size of this earth could not be alert. + +To this answered Miss Ruth, “The earth? she is huge in momentousness, +you know: with each tick of the clock a human being ceases to breathe——” + +“A human being?” he replied with a cry of surprise: “with each tick of +the clock a million worlds are burned, and are born!” + +“Oh, La!” says she, startled a little at him. + +Then she said, with that veiling of the eyes with the eyelids that +lends her her air of Madonna saintliness, “That cannot be, I think.” + +But the other sister murmured, “Ruth, it must truly be so, if the +universe truly is termless: prove me one world that’s been burned, +millions a minute must burn.” + +“Let it be so, then,” said Miss Ruth, “since you say so, and glory be +to God, for the remotest of them, I think, His hand holds, and His +right hand guides it.” + +“He is it,” the young man said. + +“He is with it, I think,” Miss Ruth replied. + +“And _you_ also say this?” he asked of Miss Eve. + +“Yes,” she answered curtly, with a touch of pique, as it appeared to me. + +Silent he stood now a while, with that smile of his that hides all the +windings of his mind behind his brow, but still giving an impression +of one plunged in bewilderment at the creatures he was speaking with. +Then, glancing upward, he swept his fingers athwart the vault of the +stars, with the remark that all that was a darksome mathematic, a +perfection which was deaf. + +But now Miss Eve, going rosy, frowned upon the ground, and in tones +that trembled a little, she observed, “Perfect it _is_, though a Heart, +not a Head, was its Father and Harper; tolling melodious notes, wrung +with emotion it rolls;” and it was now that the young man suddenly +caused my heart to bound into my mouth by coming out with the statement +that, inasmuch as _the fourth_ sharer in the conversation would +undoubtedly be found to contemplate the universe in the same sort of +mood, he could only suppose that all ladies were prone to criticisms of +the same quality. + +The two ladies looked round, and “which ‘fourth sharer’ can he mean?” +Miss Ruth wished to know of Miss Eve, while I crouched there beneath +the terrace, trembling lest he should betray my whereabouts; but when +they pressed him to say where I was, to my great gladness, he gave an +evasive reply. + +He next requested Miss Ruth to instruct him further in her views of the +universe, upon which she begged him to come the next night that she +might give him a Bible and teach him of the Lord Jesus; and as to his +father, after some hesitation on her part, he gained from her a promise +that, if his father, or his father’s agents, should get upon his scent, +the sisters would not let out to them where he lurked down there in the +river-cave. And next he began to beg Miss Eve for one of the begonias +at her girdle, but at that moment, before he could be answered, +Monsieur le Comte de Courcy stepped out of the house, and, really as +if by magic, the instant he appeared the young man had vanished. By +this time I had somewhat recovered of my fit of affright, my eyes were +anew at the parapet-top, and I could spy the surprise of the ladies, +who seemed unable to believe what their two eyes had seen: for though +the nearest leafage was quite nineteen or twenty metres away, in the +twinkling of an eye, as it seemed, he was within it, and gone like a +ghost at cock-crow. + +I, for my part, having crawled back to the lake, rushed through the +shrubbery obliquely, meaning to meet him somewhere in his career +downward: but he was nowhere to be found, until I was on the footpath +above the cliffs, when down there in the moonlight I beheld him walking +furiously to and fro before his cave’s mouth. Down, then, I scrambled, +calling out to him, asking why he had not awaited me; but he is not +very well-bred, went on silently walking, and on marking one of the +swans glide past on the water, he suddenly darted to lie on his face +and gaze at it. + +“But why did you fly like that?” I asked him when he returned to me, +“since the gentleman could not have hurt you?” but still he made me no +reply. + +“And what did you think of the two ladies?” I next asked him. + +Then he: “Who are those ladies?” + +I: “They are Miss Ruth and Miss Eve Vickery, the daughters of Mr. +Richard Vickery, who is what is called ‘An Iron King,’ a very rich +and an extremely religious man, who sometimes preaches in a chapel on +Sundays.” + +He: “Preaches?”—and I had now to try to explain that “preaching” means +teaching the people how to be devout and grave; but I failed to get him +to comprehend how Mr. Vickery could have attained to greater gravity +than the rest, and he struck his brow in the misery of his failure to +grasp the signification of a single word that I uttered as to this. +“Well, it is so, and that is all,” I said at last; “but as to the +ladies, you have still not told me which of the two you most admire.” + +Then he: “Which is the first-born?” + +So I: “That auburn-haired one is the elder by three years, being +already twenty-five, and it is she who has the reputation of a saint +in society, though it is Miss Eve who is so much the more queenly; so +which of the sisters do you like, the auburn or the light?” + +He: “A saint?”—and I had anew to make an explanation which he little +comprehended, and then anew I wished to know of him which of the two +sisters he the most admired. + +And now he, making that stone like an ink-bottle which he keeps inside +his shirt whirl about his forefinger without attachment in a quite +wonderful way, his waist swaying to keep the thing whirling wildly +quick, answered with whistling lips, “I like Miss Ruth.” + +Then I: “Oh, you do? You like her better, I see, than you do Miss Eve?” +upon which he, putting his hand behind his back for the stone to whirl +behind there, answered, “Yes.” + +Then I: “But leaving Miss Ruth out of the question, since she will +never marry, which of the two do you most admire—Miss Eve or me?” + +He: “You.” + +I: “Oh, you do?” + +He whistled quietly awhile, whirling the thing wildly with a swaying +waist, as it were a wheel wheeling on his hand, and he answered, “Yes” +to me; but I thought that my heart would be breaking with its rankling. + +So I to him: “Well, since this is so, that you like me so very vastly +better than Miss Eve and than all, why go to-morrow evening to get +the Bible, since there is no need, really; it is all nonsense and +make-believe, and will merely mean that you will be caught by your +father,” upon which he, suddenly ceasing to wheel the thing, sharply +asked if she had not promised not to betray him. + +So I: “She has promised, yes, but she little means it, wait, you will +see, you little know women, they are deceivers all; she will betray you +surely enough, if she but has the chance.” + +He glanced sharply at me, then said, “No.” + +I: “But I say yes.” + +He: “The lapwing says pee-wit.” + +What he meant I was not sure, but I was so broken-hearted that night, +that with sobs I threw myself now in a passion to his breast, and on my +knees, kissing my own tears on his hands, implored him like a dear boy +not to leave and despoil me, but to love me for ever, for if he left +me, that would be my death, I said, and his death as well. + +He smiled with his fixed little smile upon me, and I could believe that +he meant well by me; so, getting up now, I told him how I had that day +gained all information as to English marriages, and meant on the morrow +to take the first measures; but as I was speaking of this, he, leaning +aside, bent his ear to the ground, hearing God only knows what sound +under the grass, and when I had bidden him good-night, and was going up +the cliff’s brow again, on glancing back I beheld him bent down aside, +eagerly listening with his ear near the ground. + + + + + CHAPTER VIII. + + IN THE GARDEN. + + +The next day the first thing that happened was the coming of a person +whom Miss Ruth interviewed for her father in the morning-room. I was +even then seeking Miss Ruth for Miss Eve, and on coming near the room +could hear the man say that he was one Shan Healy, a servant of Dr. +Lepsius, who, having traced to The Towers the owners of the yacht which +had touched at Shunter, was now come to find out what he could as to +his master’s son. + +He seemed a person of some thirty years, slimly tall, with a scar that +twists his upper lip, clad in rough new clothes: a man of an alert and +amiable personality, so that Miss Ruth laid her hand on his sleeve +to soothe him, for indeed he was in deep dreariness, and frequently +sniffled. When I went in with the message, Miss Ruth sent me to call +Miss Eve to her, so I ran back, and having brought Miss Eve, hung near +to hear. + +It was a long talk, the stranger having been given a seat near the +grate, the sisters seated on each side of him, hearing his tale. I, +for my share, was kept fidgety by the sounds of footsteps going about +the house, and could gather only in fragments what was said—enough, +however, to inform me of the marvel of the opportunity which has +brought me this gorgeous bridegroom of mine, for here, it would appear, +is Aladdin, and it is the wonderful lamps that are alight in his eyes. +Only sparkle crisply, do, do, my little star, and come to me some +spirit of perfect luck and alertness to spur me now with whispers how +only four days more to hold him, till I have safely erected myself +on my thrones, and bound my brows with crowns. Oh, I am silly with +thoughts. But thrones, may be; may be, many crowns, as Josephine, who +was but a _bourgeoise_, wore: for when Miss Eve asked this man, Healy, +for what reason the father is in this fever as to the son being abroad +in the world, the man answered that “the doctor regards it, lady, as a +peril greater than a charge of gun-cotton piled under the globe, with a +child holding a glowing coal by it: for, says he, the day that Master +Hannibal gets to recognise the real grade of mankind’s mind he’ll be +dragging the frame of society to fragments, like a child tearing a fly, +leg by leg, for mischief.” The ladies had the eyes of a child who has +listened late in the night to tales of the ancient time! “Well,” Miss +Ruth murmured, having heard the wonders that the man had to tell, “I +am in for it now, for though I do know, I promised him not to tell his +whereabouts, being cross with his parent for not having instructed him +in the Christian faith.” Then to Miss Eve, who, leaning forward with +her chin on her palm, sat staring at some vision which she saw in the +hearthplace, she remarked, “What do you say, Eve; what should I do?” + +Now Miss Eve knit her brows, and presently replied, “Promises can’t be +repealed, dear.” + +“But since it may do much harm?” Miss Ruth suggested. + +“Still,” muttered the lips of Miss Eve, “a promise.” + +“Oh, lady, do, for God’s sake,” Healy now entreated of Miss Ruth, “not +that I expect him to go back with me, but he’s so green to everything, +badly needs somebody, lady, like a whale run ashore, has got no razors +to shave, no jacket——” + +At this of “razors,” Miss Ruth placed her hand upon the man’s in a +movement of friendliness: for in truth he appears to be rather like his +young master’s nurse than servant, and Miss Ruth’s heart, like waters +haunted with squalls, is anew every minute smitten with all the world’s +smart, as fluid and easy as Miss Eve is aloof. So she smiles with the +man, saying, “Wait, I’ll question my God,” and gets up to go away to a +window, from which she presently returns to Miss Eve with the words, +“Eve, I’ll peach.” + +To this Miss Eve at first answered nothing, but after a little asked, +“What will he think of the worth of the promises made by us Christians? +Knowing a first that has failed, never a second he’ll trust”; but +Miss Ruth continued to believe that it would be better on the whole +to betray; did not, however, outright do so, only revealing to Healy +that the boy would be coming that evening to receive a Bible, and +instructing Healy to be then on the terraces to meet him. + +But there was one who had no wish that the boy should be taken +unawares, and who, not meaning him any more to meet Miss Eve, +immediately made up her mind to make known to him that he had been +deceived by the ladies. So, after placing Miss Eve’s half-hourly +hot water, down at once I started to him, and in passing near the +morning-room, again had a peep of Miss Eve in solitude now, pacing +there regularly to and fro with something of a frown, as it were a +sentinel in a gown. But when I had got down to the cave, again my heart +went aching, for again he was not there, and I thought then within +myself, “It is going to be more troublesome to hold him in my prison +than to keep quicksilver in a sieve, or to bind a wind with twine, +and this is a wild kind of horse with wings that I have vaulted on, I +think, which may chance in its raging to break every rib of my body.” +Louder and louder I called out after him now, and there was no sound +nor sign of him: only, on the cave’s floor now was a thing resembling +a telescope, made of oak bored through the core; also I saw there a +thing like a trap made of twigs, with the guts and gore of some animal +close to it; also a hollowed stone containing water that was violently +on the boil, though by what means the boy could cause this water to +be bubbling and boiling there was more than one could conceive. There +remained also most of the food which I had brought him, and having left +what I had now brought, I had to hurry back up to The Towers. + +There I spied Miss Eve still pacing in that same machine-like fashion +as before, as queenly slow of step as when a lady, conning poetry by +rote, paces with closed eyes. However, within twenty minutes now she +called me, to ask me to take tea to her with my own hands, as on the +day before; nor did I get any time to go down the mountain again, +for after lunch I had to take the walk over to St. Arvens, where, at +the vicarage, before a Mr. Rae, an aged _curé_, I made an affidavit +as to there being “no impediment” to my marriage, and he promised to +procure me by the 27th, from “the Bishop’s Registry,” the licence +to marry, with a stamp on it for £2 3s. 6d. So far, then, all goes +well, thank God; and in passing back through St. Arvens, having got +my finger measured at Martin’s shop, I there gave orders for the +wedding-ring, since I do not regard it as a good thing to bring my +former wedding-ring into use for this new bridegroom. By the time I +came home, elated with hopes, it was already late, and before long I +was bearing tea, as bidden, to Miss Eve. There was an afternoon picnic +at the Devil’s Pulpit, where many of the party were; a few were at +tennis; Miss Ruth was in the book-room in the thick of scribbling off +a basketful of her correspondence with Christendom; and Miss Eve was +with Monsieur the Minister of the Interior. But this time when I bore +in their tea they were less close together: Monsieur de Courcy sitting +in a mood of gloom on the sofa, gazing at the floor between his legs, +Miss Eve standing nearer the fire-place, fingering white violets, with +a bent face. And I, listening in the corridor, heard her murmur to him +that “pain like a curse or some venomous perfume infects all Eve’s poor +daughters: curst that they needs must endure, worse when they needs +must inflict,” from which I gathered that the poor Monsieur de Courcy, +having been given to hope for twenty-four hours, was now definitely +turned away, though, as I left the corridor, I heard him cry out +crazily, “There is some reason! I know that you like me, Eve!” but what +answer was given to this I did not gather. + +Then, after spending some time at the wardrobe, preparing the bath, +arranging four costumes for her choosing, and the perfumery and lotions +for her _toilette de soir_, I thought I might have just time to run +down to the boy, but was now anew disappointed by being summoned to yet +new toils by Miss Ruth, who, having received a bale of toys from the +Dean of somewhere, presents me five dolls to dress! So that is the way +it is? It was always to be dressing dolls that I was born, was it not, +ladies? Wait only four days more! and perhaps you will then not know +your lady’s-maid for the smile that will writhe her lips, and for the +royalty of that rage of joy which will shine in her eyes. + +For the evening Miss Eve, for some reason, would put on her poudre blue +with the Borzoi ornaments, and orchids, and now I had a small hour to +myself, for, as to dinner, eating was far enough beneath that sphere +of fairies where my brain was in a reel; so, having merely tasted a +spoonful of soup, off I hastened to him.... + +He was not there at the cave, still he was not there! And I could only +guess that, his awes of his “Man” having already grown less great, he +had roamed far, and ah, I asked my heart if he had not done it four +days too soon for my fate.... I had no paper to write him that he would +be betrayed by the ladies if he came up, and after half an hour’s +waiting returned to The Towers. + +Nothing was then left me to do but to watch, and at first I lurked +under the conservatory’s shadow, and then, conscious that I might +be observed, moved up to pry from behind the curtains of that front +bedroom on the right. + +Thence I soon saw Healy appear on the terraces, and soon from the +drawing-room out to him moves Miss Ruth. Miss Eve did not appear, +though invited by Miss Ruth, I know, to assist at the rendezvous. So +Miss Ruth and Healy conversed a while, and I heard the stable-clock +strike nine as Miss Ruth introduced Healy into the conservatory to +wait there concealed, and then returned to pace the terrace in the +moonlight. Three minutes afterwards, half a mile off on the meadow +below the lawn, I beheld a runner coming with a wide stride, his elbows +at his side, his head thrown back, his lips opened, pressing prone +home like a beast with its ribs breathing deeply from long travelling. +At once I was certain that it was no one but him by his black skull, +his shaggy shirt, and by observing how with a bouncing somehow and a +buoyancy in his gait the boy came gaily—beautiful! like a fabulous +youth booted with something pneumatic; and soon, scaling the terraces, +he stood panting before Miss Ruth, I kneeling at the window’s sill with +my ear low to hear him excusing his lateness: for, said he, he had had +a high-day of adventures, and then had been again delayed by watching a +conflagration eight miles away, and the deaths of a man and a child. + +“Really?” says Miss Ruth to him, “and what, sir, is the name of this +poor man who was burnt?” to which he gave the answer that he had heard +the man called “George Perkins, the grocer.” + +“What, Mr. Perkins, the grocer, of Up Brooming?” cries Miss Ruth +shrinkingly, with eyes of alarm, “burnt to death?” and “Oh!” she +murmured with ruth. + +To this he replied—and I disliked him for it—that there was no need +for any feeling of grief or loss, since this grocer’s life, he felt +certain, was a life of no value, one greatly below the human grade, his +figure having the grossness of the gorilla’s, and his soul on a similar +level, since in the attempt that he had made to steal he had failed +even to death.... + +“To steal?” breathed Miss Ruth; “Mr. Perkins, the grocer? A +prayer-leader? There must be some mistake!” + +“No,” he said—at least he took it, he said, for granted that the grocer +had meant to steal, since there appeared to be no other motive for his +demented rush into the conflagration. + +“He rushed to rescue the child!” cries Miss Ruth. + +“So,” he replies, with his smile, “the people of the region seemed to +imagine,” but as the child, he observed, was not even the grocer’s own +offspring, and as even an ape’s eye might have recognised the fatal +state of the conflagration, therefore he could only suppose that the +motive of the grocer was to grasp some hoard.... Whereupon the saint +suddenly throws up her hands with drollery, and once more, as on the +evening before, could not resist running to bring Miss Eve to hear the +story of the good grocer, who, having perished as a hero, was still +impeached of stealing! But Miss Eve would not immediately come, so +that the other sister had need to entreat her thrice with, “Yes, come, +yes, come,” ere Miss Eve, deciding, appeared on the terrace in her +poudre blue, the moonlight’s hue, Hannibal Lepsius making the abject +obeisances of a Jew before her face. Then the three spoke during some +moments, or Miss Ruth and the young man spoke, Miss Eve, with an air +of musing, waiting mutely near. I heard only in fragments what was +said, but gathered that Miss Ruth, having ridiculed the grotesqueness +of the good grocer being accused of stealing, the young man now began +to glorify and laud stealing, asking if the Spartans did not rightly +regard it as an excellent art of life; and what was dishonourable +about it, he wished to know, save to be of so drowsy a consciousness, +he said, as to fail or to be found out in it? In the midst of which +speech of his, Miss Eve, without saying a word, turned away, and went +pacing westward behind the conservatory toward the garden, the young +man all agape after her, and Miss Ruth saying to him, “Now, I’m afraid +you have quite blundered into my sister’s bad books, though I, too, +say with you that there’s no wrong in stealing, save that it does seem +rather selfish, does it not? and selfishness, I think, is the sole +falsity, the only fault. But never mind, it will be quite well, let us +wait and pray, for I prophesy in the Spirit that one day light will +spring from on high in you. I am only sorry that we have to separate, +but here’s the promised Bible, which for love of me you will read +frequently, while I for love of you will wrestle—Listen!” for he, half +turned toward the conservatory, hardly heard her, his eyeballs all +beguiled away with a hungry glaring in them the way that Miss Eve had +disappeared. “Listen!” she says, “I have considered it best to betray +you——” + +“Ah!” now he span about to frown a second at her, into her, one may +say, and some other seconds stood dumb, considering it; looked up, too +(why, I do not know), at the window where I knelt hidden. At any rate, +he saw now the truth of my prophecy that Miss Ruth would betray him, +and that I was no lapwing that says “pee-wit.” In a moment more by some +reasoning of his own he seems to have surmised that Healy was concealed +in the conservatory, for toward it with his usual ill-breeding, leaving +Miss Ruth, he immediately rushed. Just then the footman John ran out +with some message for Miss Ruth, who went in with him, and soon out +from the conservatory hurried Hannibal Lepsius, holding Healy by the +sleeve, leading him to the terrace’s brink, where he caused him to sit +with a warning finger. The next instant he himself was off with the +fleetest feet the way that Miss Eve had disappeared, tossing aside in +his flight the Bible brought him by the other sister into the basin of +water where the sun-dial stands, and as he vanished I, too, though with +a shivering in my right knee which shook me throughout, rushed toward +the house-back, and out into the top part of the garden, all my heart +in a conflagration and tremble of haste to break into some outrageous +row, and shout my wrongs. + +I thought I heard talking down there at the bottom of the garden, and, +bottling up my rage, shivering, I crawled like a snail down the three +steps into a garden-walk which lay between bowers and arches made of +box-twigs. There the voice of the boy again reached me, clearly now; so +down another path on my right I prowled to its end, and now could see +them down there at the bottom by the seat, he on his knees to Miss Eve +like a very slave, she standing still, looking not at him, but at the +north shrubbery-wall with a frown on her brow, while round in cruises +above-head a white owl, I remember, was moving smoothly about in the +moonlight, like a musing spirit cruising: for I somehow observed each +little object, just as a person in going to the guillotine does, I have +heard; and I observed that, though the previous day there had been +bristles on his cheeks, he was at present clean-shaven, and I observed +that Miss Eve’s handkerchief, which she had dropped, hung from the +young man’s right ear; and I observed that he offered her earnestly the +one half of a halfpenny, or of a penny, at which she would not look. +Then I saw her lips speak, and she pointed southward, enjoining him, it +seemed, to leave her, upon which up the boy sprang, and was now about, +I believe, to seize her body, but all at once now was in flight—along +the alley down which I was peeping! _Why_ in flight I could not +conjecture, till suddenly I saw Monsieur le Comte de Courcy appear from +the north walk, with his cane uplifted in the air. He, it seems, pacing +with two ladies in the north shrubbery, and seeing through the gate, +may be, a male without a jacket molesting Miss Eve, had run to protect +her, at which the young man, ever fearful of his “Man,” had taken to +his heels: and before ever I could raise my self up to run, he, raining +his steps, had pelted by me, looking back over his shoulder at Monsieur +de Courcy. He seemed, when his eyes fell upon me, to see me there +without surprise; and on some way he still ran, more and more slowly +now, however, looking back always at Monsieur de Courcy who, cane in +air, was pursuing him. But all at once the boy, making only loitering +steps that halted, almost stopped, amazement painted on his face—that +he was so inefficiently chased, I take it; amazement, and also, though +he always smiled, a terror which stretched his nostrils as the cane of +Monsieur the Minister came. I stood awe-struck at it! and Miss Eve, +too, appeared to be apprehensive of something fearful, for she tripped +some distance in Monsieur the Minister’s rear, and once called out +after him. He, however, seemed not to hear her: still on came his great +bulk of body, the cane, the eye-glass and glassy shirt-front, till +he was quite near the turning in which I lurked, his teeth grinning +white to bite his cigarette between them. But he never advanced as far +forward as my turning: all at once Hannibal Lepsius was at him; and +in that instant of bewilderment, ere one’s wits could decide what had +been done, or in what way done, one was aware of the cane of Monsieur +the Minister wheeling high away up in the air, up where the owl wound +its flight, while the Minister himself was now on the ground, and his +cigarette, no longer in his mouth, now stuck out of one nostril, the +glowing end upward.... Oh, I was smitten with compunction for Monsieur +de Courcy, he a man of so much culture—and with a feeling of affright! +he being one whose anger it must be a truly grievous thing to bring +upon oneself.... As Miss Eve hurried to him, I ran off.... The young +man also had vanished, appalled, as I imagine, at the enormity of his +defiance of his “Man”; and when I ran out to the terraces, neither +of him nor of Healy was any trace to be seen, nor when I ran down to +his river-cave.... I came back up lagging and agued, yes, trembling +throughout in a kind of ague-fit.... + +Then, till my bell summoned me at midnight, I lay sullen, and, as it +were, dead, though uttering a sob anon. But soon after midnight I had +my mistress in my hands before the mirror, had already made ready her +hair, and now after massage with the preparation, was getting on her +night-gloves, when she remarks to me, “What is the matter? Your fingers +quiver,” and I then replied to her, “Miss Vickery, this is because I +have it on my mind to inform you that I am about to leave your service +in a hurry, since I am about to be married.” I expected to feel her +start a little! but even in that electric blaze of the two candelabra +I could detect no surprise in her, and oh, these English with their +cold spleens, how one dislikes them! She muttered to me, “Don’t be +agitated; when do you go?” did not even inquire who was that future-one +of mine. But as it was mainly in order to proclaim this to her that I +had spoken, I made the remark, “I believe, Miss Vickery, that you have +even seen my future-one, who is that young individual named Hannibal +Lepsius”—whereat as when a nerve leaps a little, it appeared certain +to me that her hand stirred in mine: and I was pleased within myself at +this. + +She asked not one question, but I now informed her frankly of +everything, how, in his passion for me, after seeing me in the bushes, +the young man had swum aboard the yacht, how I had hidden him, brought +him hither, and now was about to receive the bishop’s licence to +marry him—keeping meantime a sharp eye of observation upon her face +in the mirror: but beyond a little raising up of her palms once as in +amazement, she listened calmly, making no remark; only, the moment +I stopped, up she stood, went to the large wardrobe, and now began +prodigally to shower out her gowns, gown after gown, upon the arm-chair +for my wedding-gift, so that I stood agape at the largesse of her busy +arm, and this sharp shower of her bounty—quite a thousand pounds, as +I now count—for out, too, with the others flew that pearl grey, the +ermine stole, that orchid-mauve silk with the spotted poplin, and +now the China silk tea-gown with the Valenciennes insertions, and +that great creation for the Coaching Club Meet last year, only that +once worn. “And are all these really for me, Miss Vickery?” I said +to her in the midst of it; “you are truly good and gracious, Miss +Vickery,” I said, to which she made no answer, but continued to rain +her largesse with a scornful arm. I had to make three journeys out of +the chamber, submerged beneath these riches, and comforted inwardly of +the pangs that rankled in me. Even when I supposed that I had taken out +everything, the stole was still left, and when I now stepped in softly +for this from behind the portière, I came upon the lady standing there +as naked now as a lily, her outlines all slenderly long-drawn as by +the pencil of a stripling painter who has never yet ventured, save in +his dreamings, to be voluptuous, and she appeared to stand tip-toe +stretched to spurn and desert this earth, and return to her heavens. +Suddenly, chancing to catch sight of me behind her, all that marble was +washed in one blush, as though I was he upon whom perhaps her heart was +musing. + + + + + CHAPTER IX. + + “VITRIOLISERAI.” + + +The next morning he was gone, he was not there in the cave, and as for +the man, Healy, he was not there, and where to seek I knew not at all: +only the thing like a telescope was there in the cave, the thing like a +trap, the dead creature’s remains, the stone which he has hollowed into +a vase, and under some rubbish and leaves in a corner the thing like an +ink-bottle that he has called a “stele”: but all the bread, etc., that +I had brought him he had either eaten or taken away. + +Eaten, may be; but, if not eaten, whither, I asked myself—with this +food—was he off to? Ah, many questions I asked myself; and then, +hurrying across the bridge, went to the cottage of Mrs. Bream, with +whom Healy was lodging, to ask if the man did not sleep there the +previous night; but she said no, he had merely come in, together with +a stripling who wore sandals, to take away his bag, saying, however, +that he would be back to her in some days; and he had taken the 10.20 +up-train with this stripling, who had wished to know of her, poor +sinner, if she did not know even so much as the names of the mountains +in the moon. + +Upon this, seeing me near to fainting, she made me sip a little of a +white wine made, she said, out of cowslips. I was not, however, wholly +without hope, since Healy, who is clearly a captive, and probably but +repeated his master’s words, had promised to return; nor did I believe +that the man could mean to deceive, since he seems an honest-minded +person. To this, then, I clung; though that the boy should fly off thus +wildly to London without breathing anything of it to me who am his +sweetheart seemed hard—_to London_, I assumed! for that 10.20 train +stops only at Gloucester and Swindon before London, and I thought that +he may have wished to behold the capital. Indeed, this is probable: +for the conviction has clearly been growing upon him that his “Man,” +hereabouts, at all events, is hardly all that he has thought him; and I +guess that the feebleness of such a magnate as Monsieur the Minister of +the Interior in that encounter in the garden may have sent him flying +off to the capital to find out once and for all how things actually +are. What, then, I asked myself, would be his opinion of it all? Would +what he there saw fascinate or in any other way keep him from returning +to me? Would not Healy find the means to communicate with Dr. Lepsius, +or in some way to kidnap and immure the young man? Ah, many, many +questions I asked myself.... + +The 26th. It was vindictive of Monsieur de Courcy to give information +to the police as to his grievance against the young man, which, after +all, was hardly very grave; but his no doubt is one of those hard brows +that hardly ever forgive. At any rate, this morning an “inspector” +demanded to interview me with regard to the whereabouts of the young +man, my relation with whom, owing to my haste to crow my marriage, is +already known throughout the household, just as the fact that Miss +Eve is in negotiation with a lady for a new maid is well known to +everyone.... My God! what is to become of me now, my good God? Have +I not conducted myself like a light-headed young girl who has not yet +learned to govern her nerves or her tongue, who skips into enthusiasm +at the first music, and boasts beforehand of shadows as though they +were substances? At any rate, I had to confess to this constable my +complete ignorance of my bridegroom’s movements, whereupon he, getting +up to go, said to me, “Well, we shall make it hot for him if he dares +show his nose about here again.” + +The 27th. But is he such a blackguard, or is his scorn of me so great, +that he cannot even write me a line to say that I am never again to see +him? Still not even a line, and Miss Eve this morning would not let me +do her hands, but ordered me to bed, I looked so bad. I went, but had +to get up to go to St. Arvens to receive the marriage-licence, after +which I took the train, as directed, to Wynton, to give notice of it to +the registrar there; and now any day after to-morrow, this gentleman +told me, I may be married: a statement that made me in coming down the +stairs break bitterly out into tears.... In passing through Wynton I +procured myself at the chemist’s a vial of vitriol.... + +The 28th. Again to-day I was several hours in bed with my headache, +Miss Ruth coming at noon to read aloud to me a fairy-tale named _The +Pilgrim’s Progress_, and after luncheon comes Miss Eve also to sit five +minutes at my bedside. It was in going away, when she had reached the +door, that she stopped and said, “And as to your marriage?” whereupon +I too rashly indulged my shame with the falsehood that I had that very +morning received a communication from my future-one, assuring me that +he would immediately be here to be mine.... The house is now empty of +guests, the two Gordons having departed this morning.... + +The 29th. Well, dear Lord, he is here, and I thank you. I now write at +six in the morning, after having spent a nearly sleepless night with +him and Healy, and still with no desire to close my eyes. By to-morrow +evening we shall have been secretly and safely married, and within a +week I shall have taken farewell of this my life here.... + +I was in the housekeeper’s room alone, for Mrs. Bowden had gone up, +it being long past midnight, and I was lying on the sofa, the vial of +vitriol beside me on the table, for I had been foolishly fingering +it, when there came a tapping at that back door which opens upon the +passage. I get up, I go to it, I open it.... And it was _he_! Oh, my +wild one with wings, with the light of life flying wildly in his eyes, +it was he! and while one might reckon three I stood breathless, then +with a cry was on his breast. + +His nature is not yet coaxed over into tolerating the luxury of +kissing, and even in the ecstasy of our meeting his chastity shrank +from the touch of my lips; but, my faith, that will soon be “al-right”! +and he patted my shoulder fondly, even while hurriedly saying, “I need +light for an hour or two.” + +I was too much flurried to attend to what he said! I cooed to him, “And +is it actually true that you have come back to me?” + +“Yes, yes, let me get in,” he mutters hurriedly, and now, seizing Healy +by the sleeve, hurries in into the housekeeper’s room. He had climbed +outside, and spied me alone in there through the window, Healy told me +afterwards. + +But his air was much changed! all bustle now, business, and aloofness +from one! When I now said to him, “But where, then, have you been?” +he mutters to Healy, “Just answer her questions, and see that she +speaks in whispers,” and instantly sits to the table, places on it +that ink-bottle “stele” of his that he had left in the cave, takes a +magnifying-glass out of his shirt, and begins to gaze through it at the +marks that are cut in the stone. + +“But tell me——” I began to say to him, when “_Sh-h-h!_” breathes Healy +into my ear, “_I_’ll tell you,” and draws me away to a corner, where +he whispers me, “Mum, can you offer a body such a thing as a bite of +something? He”—indicating Hannibal Lepsius with his thumb—“can do +without food and sleep, but that’s a bit more than _I_ can bring off, +anyway.” + +I made him sit, stole out, and in five minutes was back with bread, +meat, cheese, and a bottle of beer. Hannibal Lepsius at this time could +no more be said to be sitting, but was half over the table, one knee +on the chair, poring with greed over that “stele,” as if he would eat +it with his gaze. I was about to say something to him, when my ear was +afresh reached by the _sh-h-h_ of Healy, like a whispering of leafage +fretted by a zephyr; so I placed the victuals on Healy’s knees, sat +before him, and commenced to question him; but it was many minutes +before his stuffed mouth could bring out a syllable. + +“Why were you so famished?” I asked him, “since you had money to pay +railway-fare?” + +With his lips at my ear, he answered: “It was a question of time, +mum—no time to eat, no time to sleep; but that’s good meat, that is, +and that’s good beer, too.” + +“Was he, then, in such a hurry to return to his marriage?” I asked. + +The man looked at me under his eyes—strangely, I thought—and replied, +“I know nothing of that, mum; but we went to see London, and we saw it +in a tear, I tell you, and we left it in a tear, for by the end of the +third day London had got a bit too hot for us.” + +“Why, how was that?” I asked him. + +“Truth is,” he whispered, “some of us have been putting into our +pockets more than what belongs to us!” + +“What!” I said. + +“_Sh-h-h_,” he went. + +Mrs. Bowden’s clock just then struck one, and glancing round at it, I +beheld Hannibal Lepsius bent yet further over the table, poring upon +that stone, and heard him whimper over it as if in pain. + +“What is he doing?” I whispered to Healy. + +“Lord knows, mum,” he whispered back. + +“So the London police were after him?” + +“That’s so.” + +“What a thing!” I said in awe. + +“Thrice in three days!” he whispered; “aye, and that second time it +was a close go with us, too, seeing that he wouldn’t let go hold of +me—a thousand people after us through London streets, if there was one, +and he dragging me, thinking that I am against him, too, and want to +betray him. That’s hard, too, that’s hard. Here am I, mum, Dr. Lepsius’ +servant—I’d give this hand for the doctor—yet keeping the lad dark from +the doctor, going against the doctor, mind, knowing that I am doing +wrong, but no more able to help it than a man addicted to liquor, I +am that given up to the lad; yet he keeps me as his prisoner, I who’d +race after him to hell; thinks I want to run away and betray him to +everybody, can’t believe in a motive that’s not selfish, it’s hard.” + +“You haven’t, then, written to tell his father that you have found +him?” I asked. + +“God forgive me, no,” he answered with a bent head; “though I have had +chances to do it, too, mum, and the doctor must be in as much of a +wonder what’s come to me as what’s come to Master Hanni. God forgive +me! for never I’ll forgive myself on this side Jordan. And all to +pleasure the lad—but he can’t see it, keeps me as a prisoner, it’s +hard.” + +“But what did he do in London? what did he think of the ladies there? +was he really chased by the London people?” I asked, for I could not +whisper my questions fast enough to satisfy my inquisitiveness. + +Healy answered yes, that the sandals and bauge shirt of Shunter Island +had been chased with hue and cry all up Tottenham Court Road at midday, +and twice by night in other places; and that not the London police +only were after him, for that he had no sooner stepped from the train +down here than a constable laid hands on him; but he had filliped the +constable in the face, and run away, making to the cave to get the +“stele,” which he seemed to be extremely eager to get, and then had run +up here, dragging Healy with him. + +“And he actually filliped the constable?” I said to Healy: “he is no +longer, then, at all in awe of his ‘Man’?” + +Healy grinned a grimace to himself, and throwing up his hands a little, +whispered to me, “All idiots! that was the verdict on the second +night—about eight o’clock, mum, drizzling, hazy night, he and I sitting +in one of those recesses of Waterloo Bridge, and over the river a +sight, mum, greatly like a fairyland going on in a haze, with that host +of lights.... So he sits awhile there, weary from the two days’ tear, +looking at the traffic rolling over the bridge; then getting up on the +seat, he leans over the parapet; and presently, as he was there looking +down upon the river, I hear him say to himself ‘idiots,’ and then I +hear him say ‘all, all,’ with a sort of wail, shaking his head a bit, +and then I see him bury his face in his hands, and a sound came out of +him that at first was more like crying, but afterwards was more like +laughing; and from that minute he was eager to get back down here to +his cave.” + +I looked round at Hannibal Lepsius, and now saw his body all across the +table, with one knee also on it, for, in the keenness of his strain +as to that “stele,” he had been pushing it inch by inch from him and +following it; and now his brow was all brown and engorged, his eyes +were glaring at the object like a maniac’s, and now also a sort of +groan broke out of his breast. + +When I turned back to Healy to continue our conversation, I found that +during those few moments that I had been looking away his brow had +dropped in sleep; and I was just disengaging from his fingers the glass +that he had been drinking from lest he should drop it, when I became +aware of a tapping at the little door at the back. I stole out to it, +I opened it, and now, heavens! my soul faints within me when I behold +standing there the big Inspector Gibbon, together with that graceful +young constable of Thring with the moustache, whose name is Shooter. + +“We have found him at last,” remarks Inspector Gibbon, for they had +seen the light, climbed a little by the spout outside, and seen the +young man poring over the stele. + +“But what has he done?” I asked them, with a trembling about my right +knee, hearing, as I asked it, Mrs. Bowden’s clock strike twice. + +“There are no less than five counts against him,” answered Inspector +Gibbon, “three from London, two down here; let’s have the beauty +out”—and he steps within the doorway. + +At once now with a wild heart I darted back into Mrs. Bowden’s room, to +whisper to the young man, “I am afraid that two officers are come to +arrest you!” + +He groaned, without glancing up from his poring over that stone. I +waited several seconds, hearing the clock tick, and my own heart as +loudly pounding. Healy also, who had started awake, now sat staring +with an open mouth. + +“What shall I say to the two officers?” I asked the young man. + +Again he groaned grievously, but did not glance up at me, and again I +stood in suspense some seconds; till now he in an absent way, still +without glancing up, mumbled at me, “Bring them here.” + +I ran out, and found the officers already at the door: in another +moment they were standing within the housekeeper’s room. Hanni Lepsius +was now on his feet awaiting them, and the instant they appeared he +stepped up to them, saying, “Now, I wish you to take me; take me—only +be swift.” + +“You are a beauty——” Inspector Gibbon began to say, taking the young +man by one arm, while Shooter took him by the other; but Hannibal +Lepsius cut short his words, saying to him, “Yes, I know: you all +delight in the waste of time, the waste of words. But come, take me, +and I shall know now with certainty whether you are of the smallest +worth.” The boy now pointed out of the back door at the old oak tree +that stands there in the courtyard about twelve yards from the door. +“You see that oak tree,” he said to them: “only get me past that, +and not only will I go with you the rest of the way to prison, but +four hundred pounds which I stole in London shall be for your private +use”—and how earnestly he spoke to them! turning from one to the other, +instilling his meaning into their ears as into the ears of people hard +of hearing, while they calmly smiled upon him with a contempt for him +equal to his concern for them. “You are poor,” he told them, “ah, poor +even to meanness, even to shame; and here in this pocket is the money. +Rouse yourselves now, then! _Ask_ yourselves, ‘How can he escape us?’ +Not by strength!—each of you is as strong as I. By craft, then? Surely, +only by craft!”—turning from one to the other, pleading earnestly at +the ear of each in turn. “But there are at most only six possible +ways,” he said, “in which, by craft, even a lord of Mars or Venus, I +think, could escape you. Think in lightning _now_ of those ways! Rouse, +rouse yourselves! Oh, rouse, rouse, now, all those dark powers that +profoundly drowse in your soul! Look round the room: for the means by +which I choose to escape lie here before your face; nor are you idiots +born, your brain has the same bulk, your reason is equal to mine, +only it deeply sleeps—oh, dull, dull, dull—and wakefulness is bliss, +wakefulness is life——” + +“Oh, come, no more of it,” now said Inspector Gibbon, interrupting him +with a good-natured disdain, drawing the young man away; and Hannibal +Lepsius uttered no other word. + +They took him to the back door, Healy and I following mutely behind, +and down the two steps they went, and across the yard toward the oak +tree and the swing-gate that is close by the south garden-wall. The +moon was about at her full in a sky without one cloud in it, so that +I could see that the boy’s right foot, as he walked, was drawing part +of the coil of rope from the stables which generally lies just there by +the back door; and I whispered to Healy, “He has got his leg entangled +in the rope!” + +They were by this time not three feet from the old oak tree, Inspector +Gibbon at the young man’s right arm, Shooter at the left, keeping a +strong grip, I could see, and a cautious guard, since they had been so +warned; nor had I, for my part, the least expectation of seeing him +escape them ere they reached the tree, or indeed at any time; but all +at once, just as they reached the tree, without even the least effort I +now beheld him easily free; and the next instant one saw a sight!—the +two constables all entangled, and Hannibal Lepsius running furiously +round and round the tree, ever with every revolution at a shorter +distance from it, the rope in his hand, roping with many whorles the +two men to the tree. I never was so curiously affected, I think, by any +sight—with a feeling of religion and hallelujah, I may say, the two +men’s bulk of flesh looking so abject and helpless in the hands of that +wit, like hippopotami with their insignificant skulls: though how he +had contrived to escape out of their grasp without a struggle I still +had no idea. To tie their hands, their arms being already bound, was to +him not the work of a minute, and suddenly he was rushing back to the +house, dashed inward past Healy and me without a word, and by the time +we two had returned to Mrs. Bowden’s room, he was already whining and +whimpering anew over his stone, as if nothing had happened. + +“But in what way——?” I began to say to him, when Healy’s “_sh-h-h_” +again checked my tongue; so in the corner Healy and I discussed in +agitated whispers what had taken place. When I asked Healy if he knew +in what manner the young man had escaped the police, he answered by +asking me, “What’s in that little bottle on the table?” + +At this I felt myself fly red to the roots of my hair! for he meant +the vial of vitriol which, procured at Wynton on the 27th, I have been +foolishly fingering ever since. + +“How should I know what is in the vial?” I said to Healy. + +“Well, whatever it is,” he said, “it is something that makes cloth +rotten in a tick, for when you went out to tell the officers to come +in, he dipped a match into the vial, drew with the match a circle +on each of his shirt sleeves, and now, you see, the two pieces of +shirt have disappeared”—and in truth the young man’s arm nearest me +was showing through a hole in his shirt, so I understood that by the +working of the vitriol the two pieces of shirt had come away in the +policemen’s hands. I had begun to say, “Well, it was not so wonderful, +after all, now that one knows how——” when one of the bound men began to +shout out for succour; upon which Hanni Lepsius groaned within himself +over his stone, and, without glancing up, told Healy to go and give +them to know that if they made but one other outcry before the daybreak +he would gag and agonise them; so Healy hastened out to say this, and +thenceforth the two men remained mum. + +After this Healy and I talked in our corner till the clocks tolled +three, by which time both our heads were ready to nod, our words dried +up, and still on in the soundless night worked Hanni Lepsius over that +stone. I did not hear four strike, for I was in a little sleep; but +immediately after half-past four I heard, or dreamed that I heard, a +laugh somewhere, and I started awake, aware that his study of the stone +was over, and that he was standing at my side. + +At once, as I opened my eyes, he handed me the vial of vitriol, bowing +a little, and smiling. + +“What is this?” I asked him. + +“It is oil of vitriol,” replies the boy. + +I ought, if I had had my wits, to have asked him why he handed it to +me! but, being only half-awake and confused, I foolishly took the thing +and put it down without finding a word to say; and I saw his gaze +linger strangely upon me. Then he said, “I am very hungry.” + +I ran and fetched him bread, cheese, and water, for he will eat no +meat; and it was while eating that he asked me whether I had with me +those two hundred pounds which I had told him that I had hoarded. I +replied that I had with me ninety pounds only; he then demanded of me +if I had this in metal or in notes, and on my replying “in notes,” +he said that he desired to see at once what a banknote is like, and +would I run and bring him the money that he might see. Proud to do him +a pleasure, though it was a journey through the house at that hour, +I light my candle, I set off, and soon return with my roll of notes. +He sat with them, fingering, holding them up to the gas, while I, +with my hand on his shoulder, remarked that all that was to begin our +little _ménage_, informed him that everything had been arranged for our +marriage, and asked him when that little affair was to be. His answer +was that it should be that very day at two o’clock, and I felt my heart +start once and cease to beat, my right knee trembling like a string. +While I stood thus agitated behind him, he, examining the banknotes, +requests me to give him an envelope; so I go to Mrs. Bowden’s desk, I +get an envelope, and, as I give this to him, he hands me back my roll +of notes, takes the envelope, puts into it a piece of tissue-paper, on +which he had written some words with a stump of blue pencil, fastens +the envelope, and with the pencil writes on it the words, “To Eve +Vickery.” + +I started! and I started anew when he said to me, “Hand this to that +lady when she awakes.” + +“But what do you mean?” I said, shrinking from him; “do you, then, wish +to outrage me? and do you suppose that I would do such a thing, really?” + +“You will,” he said; and to Healy, “Come.” + +“But stay!” I cried; “at what hour of the day do I see you?...” + +He was already at the door of the room, but came back a little, saying, +“At noon; and the marriage at two”—whereupon he anew picks up the +vial of vitriol from the table, hands it to me, and goes through the +doorway—the good God only knows why he did this. + +I darted after, caught him at the back door, and, casting my arms about +him, wet his cheek with my kisses and tears. He made no remark, save to +say, “Do not release those police until twenty minutes past five”; and +he went. + +The moon had set, and the new day hardly yet dawning, but I could see +him go past the oak tree without a glance at the two prisoners, and go +away like ghosts, he and his Healy, through the swing-gate close by the +south garden-wall. + +I had then to sit up till twenty past five, as he had said, to release +the police, when I brought them in, gave them some breakfast, and +impressed it upon them that it was useless for them to seek him, since +he was “gone away,” I said; and even if he was not, they could never +get him, I said: a statement which they seemed to believe, for they +were very dejected and shivering. + +It is now near seven, and here I still sit, even now not sleepy, for +this is the day of my life. What is in my heart? Is it peace? Is it +dancing? I think I have a fear.... + +It will soon be time to be at Miss Eve’s bedside. Of course, I shall +not give her the envelope, though he said with assurance that I will; +but I have not as yet opened it to see what is in it, for I fear his +consciousness of things.... There is something solid in it, like the +half of a halfpenny, and a chain.... + +The 29th, at nine in the night. He has robbed me of my savings, he has +abandoned me, he is gone for ever!... No, my God, I cannot write, my +head cannot hold itself up. + +The 30th. I will vitriolise him. God knows, that will not be easy, +he has many eyes, it will be almost impossible: but those great men +who make discoveries which amaze the creation—in what manner do they +accomplish this? I think it is not because their wits are so vastly +more than those of ordinary folk, but because their lives are wholly +devoted to one thing only, as my life henceforth will be wholly devoted +to this alone. God help me in this; it will be only after years of +effort that I can even hope to do it, but one day, if God be my Helper, +it will be done “al-right.” + +When at two yesterday he could not be anywhere found, I opened with +steam the envelope addressed to Miss Eve, and found that he had written +on the piece of tissue-paper in it the words, “Beldam Eve, farewell +for two years, from your slave for ever, Hannibal Lepsius. Please tell +Jeanne Auvache where I have laid her money.” The meaning of this last +phrase I could not for fully an hour make any sense of, since my brain +was reeling round and round; then it occurred to me to look anew at +the roll of notes that he had handed me back, and when I now flew to +them, I found that only the two outer ones were now notes, all within +being mere stuffing of tissue-paper. For a long time I lay on the floor +by the trunk, feeling myself ruined, for the loss of even a franc has +always appeared irreparable to me, and here were two thousand francs +departed by fraud, for ever, out of my life. But after a time I thought +of the words in the note to Miss Eve, “Please tell Jeanne Auvache where +I have laid her money,” and without stopping to ask myself how Miss +Eve could know this, I picked myself up to run straight to her with +the note, no more caring whether she noticed that I had opened it, for +I cared for nothing. First, however, I tried to detach the half-coin +from the note—it was the half of a sovereign which had been split in +two, and through a hole in it passed one of those little chains such +as medallions are hung from round infants’ necks; but he had artfully +gummed the half-coin to the tissue-paper just by the words “please tell +Jeanne Auvache,” and, as I could not get away the coin without tearing +the paper, I ran with the whole to Miss Eve in the eagerness of my hope +to get back my money—forgetting at the moment that this was even what +that fiend had foretold that I would do. Miss Eve was in her boudoir +alone, reading in her rocking-chair, and suddenly, without rapping, I +was there before her, holding out the note and chain. She lifts her +eyes, and instantly a faint flush flew to suffuse her face. “What is +it?” says she, taking the thing, and in one moment her eyes had run +over the words, she had thrown the note aside with a little motion of +the wrist in a little hurry, like one brushing off a fly, and was anew +perusing her book. + +“Miss Vickery,” I said, “can you tell me where my money is laid?” + +Anew she lifts her eyes, looks at me silently, and from that look I +knew at once that that phrase in the note had only been put into it so +as to ensure that Miss Eve should receive the note; for he knew that I +would open the envelope, and that Miss Eve knew nothing as to where my +money is, for how could she? My money is in his pocket, that is where +my money is, my two thousand francs. + +The 31st. I was not allowed to get out of bed to-day, and ah, these +English, they are frigid, they are hard on the surface, but beneath +they are tenderer and better than all the world. I expected that Miss +Ruth would lavish the compassion of her ever-wounded bosom upon my +grief, but I have been even deeper touched by the goodness of Miss +Eve. When, in one of the paroxysms, I cried, “Miss Vickery, I will +vitriolise, I will vitriolise him, if it is in fifteen years to come!” +she, with a look that flashed anger at me, began to say, “You shameful +woman!” but then rushed to the bed and warmly embraced me in her arms, +murmuring many times in words of wooing, “Poor bruised heart, poor +wounded woman,” with water swimming in her eyes, while I wept on her. A +French lady would not have kissed me on the lips.... In the afternoon +when I knew that she was below, I stole from bed, and, creeping to her +boudoir, peeped in to see if the tissue-paper note with the half of a +sovereign was yet on the card-table, whither she had brushed it from +her; but it had vanished. + +The 2nd. I must go away, and in haste, since this holy house is no +place for me to linger one hour in, with my heart all a nest of +hissing asps. I recognise it to be an incongruity, as a devil in +disguise in high heaven might be. Miss Eve would have me revoke the +notice to leave that I have given her: but I will go. In truth, thy +youth is over, Jeanne, thy last hope of happiness has perished, thy +very last rose is ashes. Is it not certainly a dog’s world? and I will +get back into it black and bitter, a hag at heart, bidding good-bye +to the time of bloom, to all beauties of youth, abandoning my being +recklessly to rancour and wrinkles, decay and tragedy and destruction. +I do not care, I will vitriolise him, if he live as high from me as the +sky, and within a week, I swear it, will have left this place and these +people.... + + + + + CHAPTER X. + + “THE MOON.” + + +The narrative of Jeanne Auvache, which continues yet through three +volumes, may here be dropped, and what else took place may be gleaned +from the “Memoirs” of Monsieur Goncourt Leflô (Prefect of the Seine), +and from the “Notes” of Saïd Pasha (Chargé d’Affaires), together with +jottings and gossips of other witnesses. + +In that place which used, I think, to be called “La Plage,” but is +now the Club des Décavés, a crowd one afternoon sat surveying the +Avenue du Bois de Boulogne. (The Décavés is far up at the top of +the Avenue by the Arc de Triomphe, from which point the throngs of +bicyclists who have toiled up the incline of the Champs Elysées put +their legs up, give themselves to God, and by Him are taken gaily down +the long-drawn-out incline to the Bois, like boats in the river of +carriages which rolls droning down.) It was an afternoon in June, and +everyone who knows his “capital of the universe” at all knows that +sight, whose mood, in its large-minded worldliness, is rather to be +recalled than to be described. + +The Décavés itself, with people coming, going, sitting, sipping, +gossiping, was a scene of no little vivacity; and to a new-comer, as +he stepped up, one of a group of three said eagerly, “You have heard, +Leflô?” + +“Well, naturally, one has heard,” answered Monsieur Leflô, the Prefect, +as he sat, “inasmuch as one cannot dodge the omnipresent, and all +Paris is talking of it.” + +“But what an indiscretion!” cried Monsieur Isabeau Thiéry. + +“A public embrace at the Foreign Office, my friends!” added the Abbé +Sauriau, his plump palms spread a little. + +“But, then, everything is possible at the Foreign Office,” remarked the +Prefect of the Seine: “above all, dizziness of the head.” + +“This, however, my friends,” now said the old Duc de Rey-Drouilhet, +“is an incident, not of the Third Republic, but of the Second Empire! +Transfer the scene to the Bal Morel, and the lady might have been +Païva, as the male Plon-Plon,” whereat Isabeau Thiéry shook backward +his lion’s mane of hair with, “It may be an incident of the Third +Empire, which we see beginning—unless by chance a patriot or two +still exists in France.” (“He was”—to quote from the “Notes” of Saïd +Pasha—“one of the tribe of poet-politicians—the Hugos, Lamartines, +Châteaubriands—and though neither his poetry, nor even his politics, +was at all equal to theirs, Thiéry, as we know, took himself awfully +seriously, excelling them all, since not in head, at any rate in hair, +in his spread of hatrim and La Vallière cravat, whose crimson hue +proved him “of the Left.”) + +“But was it Lepsius who did this?” now said the Abbé Sauriau, his +tumbler of byrrh brought half-way up to his broad mouth: “Lepsius, +the Nazarene, reeling beneath the mead of Venus! This Puritan, whose +existence is presumed to be made up of a race with the sun, to whom +a speck of dust appears a heap of leprosy, and the loss of a minute +the loss of a province?... This Lepsius, indeed, is a myth he has +contrived by chance to create in men’s minds a Lepsius-Phantasm, as +there is a ‘Napoleonic Legend’; but oh, if he had but a real existence! +Who in that case, my friends, could fail to revere this furious reaper +of the tickings of the clock, who lives with one eye on a second-hand, +and with the other, I am told, on a pyramid of thrones? Do you know +the story that is told of what he replied to Proudhon _ainé_, who at +that time was one of the Quæstors of the Chamber, when Proudhon _ainé_ +said to him, ‘To-morrow, monsieur, it shall be done’? The answer of +Lepsius—as they say—was, ‘Monsieur, believe me, to-day is each man’s +last, last chance, for it will be doubly impossible for him to effect +to-morrow just that which he may effect to-day, since to-morrow it will +be all an altered world, he an altered man in it.’... Is it _he_, my +friends, whom we find engaging in an amour so touched with giddiness +that it may not wait for privacy?” + +“A propos of ‘the clock,’” remarked the old Duc de Rey-Drouilhet, his +little hand all aflash with diamonds in the sunshine, “Freycinet _fils_ +is said to have remarked this afternoon at Tortoni’s that then at +least, during the kiss, Monsieur Lepsius lost reckoning of the clock, +seeing that his eyes were tight closed! And it is now being said round +about the Palais-Bourbon of Cardinal Pontmartin, who has declared that +the kiss lasted a minute and eight seconds by the clock, ‘How could the +Prelate have seen the clock, when those holy eyes of his must have been +poring upon Paradise revealed before them!’—a _mot_ at which the titter +and grin of the beau set his (!) teeth atremble with a rather ghastly +glitter on his gums. + +“But as to the lady——” Isabeau Thiéry began to say at the same moment +that the old gossip exclaimed, “Here comes Saïd Pasha, one of the +keenest listeners and best observers in Paris”—and a brown man with +a firm lip, perfectly turned out, came up to the table, the duke +observing to him, “Monsieur, one is conscious from the very blush of +your boots that you bring with you much that is new.” + +“But, Monsieur le Duc, they were not polished by myself,” replied Saïd +Pasha innocently—a reply which raised a smile! since everybody knew +that the duke, in the course of a very varied career, had had need to +be his own menial. + +“In any case, you can enlighten us as to the identity of the lady who +is on the tapis in connection with a certain individual,” said Isabeau +Thiéry to Saïd Pasha, who at that time was generally supposed to be +in quite the inner _côterie_ of the Palais-Lepsius; but in the same +instant that the staid and cautious _chargé d’affaires_ was asking what +lady was meant, the duc was saying, “Here, too, comes Monsieur the +Englishman,” and one Mr. E. Reader Meade, an attaché at the Faubourg +St. Honoré, walked up—a man who, because of his bulk, and of that mass +of face on which was written “phlegm” and “judgment,” was often in the +Paris of that day nicknamed “the Englishman.” As he approached, the +aged gossip, holding up his eye-glass before a dilapidated eye, made +the observation, “But do I read aright in Monsieur Meade’s air that he +is unaware of anything having happened?” + +“Very possibly, Monsieur le Duc,” replied the Englishman, sitting down, +“since I only arrived from London an hour ago”—at which confession +of benightedness, in a moment the old Duc de Rey-Drouilhet was at +Meade’s ear, leaning over, tittering forth the story with no little +vivacity—Soirée last night at the Quai d’Orsay—all the Faubourg +St. Honoré there, much of the Faubourg St. Germain itself, not to +mention a Chausée d’Antin mob—in the grand _salon_ the _quadrille +d’honneur_ had already begun, the Prince of Wales the partner of +Madame la Ministre—out in the vestibule, moving in, a crowd—in its +midst the young Lepsius and his usual retinue—also a lady, supposed to +be English, who at any rate was under the chaperonage of the English +Comtesse de Pichegru-Picard; this lady and a certain individual +gradually work together through the throng, by accident, say some, by +design or blind desire, say others—do not, however, seem to see each +other—move on with the crowd, shoulder to shoulder, without speech +or look—till for some reason two of the electric jets chance to go +dark, leaving the vestibule in partial gloom, whereupon that pale +dark face of a certain individual turns toward the lady’s pale fair +face—the lady’s pale face turns somewhat toward his—and, according +to Cardinal Pontmartin, who was quite near the pair, their wide and +wild eyes stare awhile at each other with a stare of scare, of even +the extreme of terror, as in apprehension of some impending crash and +catastrophe—until now the lips of Lepsius pounce upon the lady’s—nor +does the good girl turn hers away, gives herself gallantly up to the +vertigo and whirl of it, smiling though white, her eyes closed, his +eyes closed—the crowd looking on in an amazement so profound, that +Cardinal Pontmartin had since declared that his hair could not but have +stood on end, if he had had any, as beyond all question would the hair +of the good Comtesse de Pichegru-Picard, if it had been real.” + +“And we who imagined that Society under the Third Empire was destined +to be as earnest and _bourgeoise_ as was that under the Citizen +Monarchy,” remarked Isabeau Thiéry with sarcasm when the old duke had +concluded the story, to which Mr. E. Reader Meade replied with a smile, +“But what can be more ‘_bourgeois_’ than kissing, monsieur, or more +‘earnest’ than such a kiss?” + +“Such a kiss,” the Abbé Sauriau said, “is a proof, my friends, of +nothing save of Lepsius’ disdain of mankind, since he certainly weighed +the thirty or so pairs of eyes which observed that kiss as lightly as +lovers on a stile weigh the eyes of kine which watch them. Do you know +the story that is told of his answer to Marshal Macintosh, à propos +of the Marshal’s remark that a foreigner, even after a hundred years, +is never regarded and behugged by the French as a Frenchman? Lepsius +replied, ‘It may be nice to be loved, monsieur, but what is nicer far +is to be disliked, to behold yourself surrounded by people thirsting +like Tantalus to hurt you, and to behold them powerless, because of +your towering superiority.’ So you see, my friends: Napoleon regarded +men mainly as pawns in his game; Monsieur Lepsius, in his more _savant_ +mood, regards them as gorillas in his garden of zoology”—and now the +abbé’s eyes shot out beneath his bush of eyebrow a beam of bile, bush +that burned, yet was not consumed, while Isabeau Thiéry’s eyes, quick +as tinder, caught fire also, for company. + +Saïd Pasha, however, with a frown, was saying, “Oh, pardon, Monsieur +l’Abbé!... This anecdote of the reply of Monsieur Lepsius to Marshal +Macintosh is, indeed, known; but I need hardly remark that to repeat +is not quite to prove, and, in fact, the words are so unlike the +individual to whom they are attributed, that I have even ventured to +assert that they were never uttered by Monsieur Lepsius, the mood of +whose converse is usually much more taciturn. As to Monsieur l’Abbé’s +mention of gorillas, I think I have the honour to know that Monsieur +Lepsius is far too exact an intellect to regard mankind precisely in +that light, but rather, let us say, as sons of Hannaman, the ape-god of +the Brahmins; and as to the alleged kiss at the Quai d’Orsay, of which, +by the way, everyone in Paris is spreading about a different account, +I am able to state that its occurrence, if it occurred, was the result +of no world-disdain, but simply of one of those magnetic gales that +deflect even the needle of the compass. After all, as was said in a +certain Orléaniste _salon_ not thirty minutes since, ‘it takes two to +make a kiss,’ and since the lady is not accused of world-disdain, I do +not see why the male.” + +At this Monsieur Leflô—a little quick personality, whose hairs grew +like a wig of bristles—ogled Isabeau Thiéry with, “We are all aware +that the utiliser of the moon has a champion wherever Saïd Pasha is +present!” + +“But, Monsieur le Prefect,” said Saïd Pasha, sudden and quick in +quarrel, “am I charged with partisanship for aught but the simple +truth?” + +“No, monsieur,” replied the Prefect dryly, “even though it is a matter +of common talk that Saïd Pasha once shed tears of admiration at the +sight of a certain individual racing with camels from a sand-storm +near Khartoum, and from that moment became a hero-worshipper. So it +is said—I was not there. In any case, I beg leave to question the +‘magnetic gale’ by which you explain this embrace, since I believe that +the reason of it is quite a different one than people conceive.” + +At this Saïd Pasha’s brow bowed low, with the reply, “We know that +Monsieur Leflô is a prefect who is a Fouché and a Réal in one.” + +“Oh, as for that,” Leflô answered in his off-hand way, “it requires no +spy of the Rue de Jerusalem to recognise the truth that this kiss was +no result of vertigo, but of a political purpose.” + +“That is only the truth,” added the old Due de Rey-Drouilhet, “since it +is certain that a certain individual ‘knows his Paris’—more perfectly +knows it than Napoleon the First, as perfectly perhaps as Napoleon the +Third; and knowing that your Parisian, as Victor Hugo has observed, +must for ever be grinning the teeth, either in a laugh or in a snarl, +the arch-gamester never permits himself to forget that there must be no +flagging in the game, since in Paris to be out of sight is to be out of +mind, and so seeks continually to _épater les gens_, keeping himself +alive in the public eye by breaking ever anew upon it in a new attitude +and costume, and invariably with an _éclat_ whose radiance blinds. No, +this gentleman is hardly one of those who like to shine in the dark! +If for once in his life he tears his lips from the telephone to apply +them to those of a lady, he takes care that there shall be as many +eye-witnesses to the event as when some months ago he used to assume +the rôle of Haroun al Raschid by appearing in an incognito of rags in +the thieves’ kitchens of the Quartier Mouffetard, where he engaged in a +knife-fight with a Spaniard, and in a cangiar-fight with two Moors who +had attacked him. For here, my friends, we meet with the scenic skill +of a Bonaparte in combination with the ambitious mania of a Thiers, +Bismarck’s steel, that art-genius for _Welt-politik_ of a Cæsar Borgia, +and——” + +“All possibly true,” interrupted the Abbé Sauriau, “but the thing +that this very young man lacks is a certain humanity and nativeness +to the world: for a man above the world he may be, since they say so, +but one discerns that, with all his worldliness, he is hardly a man of +the world. How perfect, how Parisian even, his manners when he likes; +but one gleans that they have been but recently acquired, and girt on +externally for a purpose, as Cato learned Greek at eighty. He lacks a +_je ne sais quoi_ which no one lacks. If he laughs, one feels that he +has said to himself, ‘Just here I will do a laugh, in order to produce +such or such an impression upon this brute-mind.’ All men, indeed, +are actors: but Lepsius is an actor who acts acting, like the players +in _Hamlet_, and I am not certain whether he is to be considered the +best of the world’s actors, or the worst: for ‘the brute-mind’ is +frequently not so brute as not to perceive that his art lacks the art +to conceal its art, owing to the fact that he shares in the mistake +made by each superior mind in deeming the difference between himself +and other beings deeper than it really is. Hence, for all his brains, +a certain _gaucherie_ in his being, a grimace, a guffaw, in relation +to the world, to which he is innately a stranger. How very alien to +our humanity, for example, the commercial use which he has proposed +of the bodies of the dead, a use which he pretends would solve the +world-problem of poverty. On that afternoon, too, when the Moon Company +Bill was being introduced, and he in the Centre began to scratch his +head with one finger in the manner of Cæsar—a signal to his creature +Huguenin on the extreme left to scream, ‘Cæsar! Cæsar!’ in a bogus tone +of indignation—the intention, as everybody knows, was that the whole +Chamber should take up the roar and reverberate it through France; but +not one soul took it up! The trick was immediately seen through by each +French child...!” + +“Yes, last August,” said Mr. E. Reader Meade, gazing away at all the +throng and flutter of the scene, “last August, when the individual in +question had not yet been two months a factor in politics; but nine +biggish months of world-knowledge, of archive-searching, of worming in +the Big Book,[B] have since gone by——” + +[B] National Debt Ledger. + +“My friends,” answered the Abbé Sauriau, still with his Jesuit +blandness, though his bush burned, “I have quite recently been in +personal contact with the individual in question, and still I say that +I receive from him, as previously, the impression of a being destitute +of humour.... He does not please; he cannot speak to you: for though +his memory which, I admit, is no bad one, should render him the best of +_causeurs_, his uneasy feeling that idle speaking is a crime renders +him the worst.... Oh, I am not demolishing any idol! Why, my friends, +should I? You have lately listened to that charge brought against me +in the Chamber by Maître Tombarel, the charge of intellectual egoism +and envy. I cannot, it appears, be envious of a Rockefeller or a Mogul, +but I go green with envy, it appears, on hearing a great epigram that +I did not myself think of making. Well, I deny it.... If to my little +books my contemporaries have too amiably granted the name of ‘great,’ +does that impede my conceiving the possibility of some brain brighter, +greater, being made by Nature? Or, can _no_ mind really conceive, +and frankly admit to itself, a mind of better fibre than itself? +I—don’t know; or rather! _my_ mind could and would, I am most sure, +if—the occasion arose. Thus I can speak, I hope, of the individual +in question without spleen; indeed, I have even been touched with a +feeling of compassion for this poor boy, so joylessly toiling, all +lone and lorn, fatherless, a stone thrown from Utopia—for who could +picture him in the rôle of a son? And did he not once say to Freycinet +_père_, ‘Monsieur the Président of the Senate,’ said he, ‘I never had +a parent.’ Never, at any rate, a brother being, a friend probably, +climbing his mountain-way without quite knowing why or whither, but +willy-nilly climbing.... Oh, my friends, it is not through jealousy, +but for pity, that men should be busying themselves in bottling up the +buzzing of this bee.” + +To words so bold no one answered anything, till Isabeau Thiéry +observed, “From the bee honey, though, as aroma from the rose, though +the former _has_ its sting, as the latter its thorn.” + +“Ah, monsieur,” answered the Abbé Sauriau, knowing on which nerve to +work upon Thiéry, “Brutuses, I fear, are even rarer than Cæsars!” +whereat, instantly, Isabeau Thiéry, with a new enthusiasm, was crying, +“Still, Monsieur l’Abbé, Brutuses—exist!” + +“Quite so,” said Mr. Reader Meade, with a twinkling eye on Thiéry, +“but could a patriot be the Brutus of a Cæsar, whose first work would +be a frontier reconstructed ‘as in 1814’?”—words which had the effect +of making Thiéry glance gladly at the Englishman with the exclamation, +“That, too, is a truth, monsieur!” (“His, Thiéry’s, soul,” says Saïd +Pasha, in his _Paris Notes_, “was like meadows over which sweep shadows +that fleetly succeed each other. He had no self, this man, but only a +set of stock concepts, borrowed emotions—provided only that they were +pure, enthusiastic, and high-souled. Hence he was _the very serf_ of +certain catchwords! If one breathed ‘Brutus’ nothing could keep the +poet-politician from leaping to his feet to butcher Lepsius, if one but +breathed ‘as in 1814,’ Thiéry was secretly ready to press Lepsius to +his breast.”) + +“But,” demands the old Duc de Rey-Drouilhet now, smuggling a cachou +into his mouth, “where is the guarantee of the promise ‘as in 1814’? +Certainly, fancy pictures to us in that workshop of the Palais-Lepsius +the models of many a mechanism which will whiff into wind the +barricades of the next 18th Brumaire or 2nd of December, to say nothing +of the _corps d’armée_ of the Fatherland and the navies of Albion. +And, indeed, they exist, these legions of ingenious steels! For it +was but yesterday that Colonel Doumic, whom Barras, of Public Works, +and I met at Bignon’s, was dropping hints of another wonderful thing, +a ‘steerable bullet,’ he said, which, it appears, is to be both a +bullet and a boat, being made with a hole somewhere in its steel to +hold a man, who will steer it.... It appears, my friends, that the +keel of this contrivance will merely skim along the sea’s surface, +being upheld by the rebound of a gun or something exploding downward, +I forget how many times a minute; and the boat so upheld will be +swept forward rocketwise by another succession of explosions, like a +motor-car; so that this thing will safely visit vessel after vessel at +bullet’s rate, with fatal results to all a navy within some minutes. +Doumic should know, being one of the elect with the individual in +question: for is it not Doumic who already is choosing the regiments to +be quartered upon Paris, in order to send them back to the provinces +imbued, one after the other, with this new-imperial dream? But as for +me, who am hardly still a youth, I little believe in dreams that are +unrealised; I have witnessed many, many things, and heard many words: +I have heard Cora Pearl hum the _Kyrie_, and I have beheld Alfred +de Musset sober. Hence to me the individual in question is mainly a +_directeur de spectacle forain_—a famous one, it is true. His palaces +that are like the blasphemous gardens built to reproduce Paradise by +that king of Irim whom the gods struck blind for arrogance—then the +revels—his Moon-proposal—then his riding of his _Chérie_ to victory at +Longchamp—his Exhibition-proposal—then this kiss—each seems to belong +to a series of scenic——” + +“_Was_ the kiss scenic?” asked Mr. E. Reader Meade semi-privately +of Saïd Pasha, upon which Saïd Pasha undid his cross-looking lip to +answer, “No, monsieur. I state only a fact when I declare that for over +four months I have foreknown some such collapse of the intellectual +tension of the individual in question—a collapse owing, I say again, to +a magnetic gale and to nothing else. Nor was this thing at all sought +by Monsieur Lepsius. He is not, we are aware, by nature a Petrarch or +Ortis; he is by nature an athlete, an engineer, a financier, a juggler, +a sage—what you will, save a gallant; and as others flee the pest, so +he has fled this infirmity of his. All which, by the way, I can state +on the authority of a man already known, I think, to Monsieur Meade, +to Monsieur l’Abbé Sauriau, and to Monsieur le Duc de Rey-Drouilhet, +one Shan Healy, who is known to have followed Monsieur Lepsius from +England to Ceylon, to Japan, and other regions, some couple of years +ago: and from this man’s statement one is afraid that the blame for +what has taken place must be laid upon the lady. In fact, although +Monsieur Lepsius certainly knew the young girl before his departure +from Europe, and knew on his return that she was then in France with +her aunt, the Comtesse de Pichegru-Picard, he appears to have given +himself no sort of pains to greet her again; nor was it until some +four months after his star had well risen over the horizon, that the +eyes of the two individuals in question encountered one another on +the Palais-Lepsius roof, during the morning hours of that ball that +followed upon the passing of the Moon Bill. We remember the sight, +messieurs: a morning all stars, the Champs Elysées all one swarm of +carriage-lights from the Arc de Triomphe to the Place de la Concorde, +the Palais-Lepsius looking like one of the buildings of Chilminar or +Balbec which the genii are believed to have wished into being, and +everyone to be met there, save Monsieur Lepsius himself. Monsieur +Lepsius, it appears, had gone to sleep during the rout at his usual +hour, but at the hour of three had roused himself to go up to his +observatory, no one but his servant being with him; and up there he +was, his gaze glued to his tube, a busy-body in the concerns of other +worlds, when the lady, as ladies seem to conceive it their duty to do, +smartly recalled him to this one. ‘Oh! pardon,’ says she, and with +what object, or by what right, she had got herself up thither is not +known, though she was not the only one of the guests who, beguiled by +the desire of the eye, were roaming _ad lib._ through the rooms of the +building that night. At all events, as her lips part to pronounce her +‘pardon,’ the other individual in question darts his glance round from +the glass to her, crouches there aghast some eight seconds, gazing, +dumb-struck, and—vanishes. Monsieur Healy declares that his heart +all but ceased to beat, believing as he did that his master, who had +darted out of a casement, had cast his body headlong down! Well, three +several times since then have the two individuals——” + +But now, before the anecdotist could further go, a sound arose and +grew, not loud, but universal over the grounds of the Club, the +Avenue, l’Etoile—a rumour in whose droning the word “Lepsius” was +to be heard, as a troop of Zouaves and Turcos, riding all in their +bright robes, broke into the ocean-current of carriages that rolled +through the Avenue. Up from the Elysées they came, making down for +the Bois de Boulogne; and up soon after them trotted another crowd +of troopers—Moors, Hindoos—voluminous in their vestments of various +hues, carrying javelins (jereeds), with streamers, on large chargers +which caracoled; and, close behind these, three carriages with +gentlemen-ushers, household gentlemen; and up behind these outriders; +grooms costumed in green and gold; pigmies in jockey-caps, from which +hung fringes of gold; and up behind all a phaeton hauled by Orloff +horses that haughtily pawed the air, to fling far their front-hoofs, +trotting. In this sat Lepsius. He was in mufti, but clearly no “mere +_pékin_,” the insignia of the Grand Cordon of the Legion showing +his connection with the Army; and by his side sat a girl who looked +American, on her lap a scribbling-book, and flying in her fingers a +pencil. He, as he drove up, bowed repeatedly a little to the buzz that +droned about his ear, but without ever once glancing upward, his lips +never ceasing to move and murmur to the girl whose fingers flew. And +away to the wood swept the wind of it. + +Everyone then turned anew to sip his _aperitif_, and the old Duc de +Rey-Drouilhet was anew observing that turn-outs so perfect had not +conquered the eye since “the early sixties,” when a man with white +hair that curled upward at his nape came up to the table of our +anecdotists to inquire whether the Comte de Courcy had been with them, +or had been noticed about the club. “I had to meet the count here,” he +explained; and something humble, bowed down and sad in his air touched +their compunction. During the moving-by of the cavalry troop he had +been semi-secretly eyeing the sight through trees some distance from +the street; then had come out to seek the count, and now was about +to fare farther, when all at once the count himself was there with +a raised hat, and at once, grasping the old man’s hand, he began to +present “Dr. Lepsius” to the rest. + +“‘Lepsius’?” Isabeau Thiéry breathed the word. + +“_Need_ I explain,” said Monsieur le Comte, taking a chair, all +business, all smiles, with dimples in the chart of his large face, +“that there may be many men of that name?—_not_ necessarily related by +ties of family? which ties, in any case, can never possess much weight +in the matter of politics. So that if by chance we here are all a +harmony, politically speaking——” + +The count’s eye ran prying with an underlook about the table from face +to face, whereat Mr. E. Reader Meade glanced at Saïd Pasha, Saïd Pasha +glanced at Mr. Meade, and they two got up to bow themselves out of +the business, while the others, with glances at one another, silently +smiled. + +Then Monsieur le Comte de Courcy, fingering a crucifix of gold that +from of old lay smooth from his fingering under his shirt-frills, +said to the others, “Gentlemen, it is not without a purpose that I +present to you now (rather than more formally at our meeting this +evening in Monseigneur Piscari’s house) our actuated by precisely the +same motives as ourselves, nay, if possible, by motives still nobler, +concerned not with France alone, but of world-wide anxiety. He brings +with him something which, as I believe that it will prove of even +extreme interest to you, I wished to lay before the Abbé Sauriau, our +excellent secretary, previous to our meeting at Monseigneur Piscari’s +this evening, in order——” + +“Gentlemen,” suddenly rising, said Dr. Lepsius in a low tone, “I think +that perhaps if I took a stroll while you talk the matter over, that +might be more in order. I will be back to answer any question that may +occur to you,” whereat hats were anew raised, the doctor went away, +Monsieur de Courcy’s underlook peered about to see that nobody was too +near, and now he drew with care from out a pocket-book a bit of paper, +rather brown and brittle, that had passed through flame. He laid it +on the table: and quickly, like a congress of eagles, the intriguers’ +heads were together over it, the old duke skipping like a youth closer +round to it, and that lax skin of the Abbé Sauriau’s brow, which above +was narrow, broad below, twitching short-sightedly over the browned +words, while his bush burned. Only the Count de Courcy leaned back, +fingering his secret crucifix, musing through his cigarette fumes upon +the clouds, humorously dimpled. (“He was ever healthy and happy-hearted +when in office-harness,” says Saïd Pasha of him, “with a no small +degree of rush and magnetism when revelling in the thick of affairs; +one of your true _gens de bureau_; an intellect essentially narrow, +bigot, bourgeois, as ‘devout’ as he was profoundly irreligious; but +iron; and the busier the blither.”) + +And presently when Isabeau Thiéry, demanded whence the paper came, +“This script,” replied the Comte de Courcy, “is a portion of a +private letter written from Paris some seven months ago to a certain +English nobleman who is a Directeur Publique—say a ‘Permanent +Under-Secretary’—of Her Britannic Majesty’s Government. By what +succession of good chances the fragment has got itself into the hands +of our friend, Dr. Lepsius, will no doubt be described by him to-night +at Monseigneur Piscari’s.” + +“But can we be sure who wrote it?” Isabeau Thiéry said, “when it lacks +a signature?” to which the count stopped his humming to reply, “Would +a signature add to our certainty, monsieur, when the individual whom +you have in your mind is said to write a hundred hands a day, as it +suits his purpose? But surely the internal evidence furnishes us with a +certainty which is ample.” + +“Oh, ample,” said Monsieur Leflô, glancing up. + +“Well, he is a showman,” sighed the old gossip, rising with satisfied +old eyes from the script, while his eye-glass dropped. + +“But he is mad,” added the Abbé Sauriau. + +“That is the definition of God,” remarked Isabeau Thiéry: “a showman +who is mad”—a remark which caused the Comte de Courcy to laugh, though +with one hand he was at the crucifix, while with the other he was +taking up to replace in its nook the bit of paper, which had on it, +still to be read through the burn, the typewritten words, “World ... +redistribution which I shall choose ... two worlds ... nevertheless, +England ... world’s total capital ... Bank of Dresd ... S. America +_plus_ Africa the first, Asia _plus_ Russia the second, the rest of +Europe _plus_ North America the ... Russia, too, to be included in +Manchuria ... the Caspian ... from the Caspian to the Bosphorus ... +France first, then, by means of France, the world.... The ocean of +blood which will flow, but that, of course ... Quebec to be the capital +of the world, and the seat of my ... Moon ... has been too stupid ... +shape of the ape’s brain ... nevertheless, moonlight will ... like +the eggs of the ostrich, which she hatches, not by sitting on them, +but by just gazing at them, so I may.... If the moon had been of some +beautiful hue, and of a brighter light, and a reliable light, men ... +would naturally have used the day-time for slumber.... Even birds and +brutes, I assume, will soon learn to prefer the mood of the beautiful +night-time of my ... it is for _you_, therefore ... when the Exhibition +... come to Paris at ... discreet fash ... afterwards ... my friend +and....” + +“Well, it is a great and a gallant brain, after all,” cried Isabeau +Thiéry with a flush, when Monsieur le Comte had put away his +pocket-book with the script in it. + +“A great and a gallant brain,” mused the Minister of the Interior, +who, fingering his imperial, was smiling at the sky; “though not a +Christian, not a Catholic, not a French brain.” + +“Tush! the brain of a precocious, pert youth,” observed the Abbé +Sauriau, with a burning bush, “whom it is the duty of us all to remove +out of harm’s way without more delay.” + +“Though that will not be done without difficulty, mind you!” Monsieur +Leflô remarked with a little grimace, planting his fore finger-tip +against his hard nut: “but in the event of a citation of the individual +before the Sixth Correctional Tribunal, with a view to obtaining a +decree of banishment against him for instigating civil strife, I should +say that this document would be of use.” + +“The Sixth Correctional Tribunal,” mused the count, smiling; “I +thought, however, that that idea had by this time been abandoned by +us all, if only for the reason that the trial could not possibly be +completed before the Exhibition, during which, as we assume, the _coup +d’état_ that we dread is to take place? Personally I cannot help +thinking that a court-trial of uncertain termination is no longer +pertinent to the situation, especially as we have been so happy as to +win the sanction of the Church (in the persons of Monsieur l’Abbé and +of Monseigneur) to move urgent and more certain ways of averting this +danger to the world.” + +The Abbé Sauriau, who had a habit of ever eyeing his right shoe and +red sock, which shook up continually (the leg being crossed), struck +smartly with his gloves, remarking, “A stronghold close to the coast, +with grim bastions and the gloomiest of oubliettes! twelve or fifteen +years of that is what the youth wants——” and he struck back his spread +of hair that broadened lankly out down over the ears, the Count de +Courcy repeating with approval in his musing manner, “Twelve to fifteen +years of that, twelve to fifteen years——” and going suddenly grim-red, +he giggled gleefully to himself. + +“Monsieur l’Abbé is right,” the old Duc de Rey-Drouilhet said: “fifteen +years of a bastille’s oubliette is known to induce in a youth a +definite diffidence as to using his lips in public, either in speaking +or in kissing,” at which speech Monsieur de Courcy, who was drinking +menthe, grew crimson, gripping his glass so grimly that it cracked, the +green fluid streaming from the table to the abbé’s sock. + +“If it can be done ...” muttered Monsieur Leflô; “_if_ it can be +done....” + +“Why, Monsieur le Prefect,” said the abbé, “was it not a Frenchman who +said that ‘cannot’ is a _bête de mot_?” + +“That is a truth, too, monsieur!” cried Isabeau Thiéry, “and provided +it prove necessary....” + +But now a trooper, as troopers do everywhere pursue every Ministre de +l’Intérieur, came to the table with a document for the Count de Courcy, +who, making his excuses, raised himself to hasten away; but some +yards off stopped to beckon to the Abbé Sauriau, who rolled after him +with his big stick and soft hat, and together they two walked toward +the minister’s carriage, the abbé’s top-heavy bulk, all thickness of +shoulder without any throat, shambling short below the minister’s mass; +and the minister said to him, “Twelve to fifteen years of a bastille +by the coast, you say: and, certainly, such things have often enough +been effected by private effort for public purposes. But I do not blind +myself to the fact that it would be beyond the Law, and—in fact—I +have to consult you now on a matter of—conduct. I am now about to go +through a singular interview, and I—address myself, Monsieur l’Abbé, +to the ecclesiastic in you. You understand me, I think. We are all +first of all Catholics and good Christians, are we not? and afterwards +men-of-state. A singular interview—with a woman, who, on the strength +of having been in the same yacht, the same house, as myself some three +years since, has lately—thrice—addressed herself to me by letter. A +lady’s maid she—_was_; and as such knew the individual whom we have +been discussing: for this individual whom we habitually associate only +with the future has also, it appears, a past—aye, and a shameful past, +too—I say a baleful and abominable past—which merits to be punished, +which it is righteous to punish. Think of it, Monsieur l’Abbé! as a +mere boy—oh, really, my blood boils to speak of these turpitudes!—he +not only betrayed this poor soul, but afterwards robbed her of all, +all, her paltry savings; was chased through the thoroughfares of London +for petty theft....” + +“The young Lepsius?” + +“Yes, Monsieur l’Abbé—your hero.” + +“Whose hero?” + +“Is it not being stated on the boulevards by Léon Bergerac in +particular, who is always the best informed man in Paris, that you are +bitten by an infatuation which is half an idolatry of admiration, and +half a hatred, and wholly a hankering, that hardly permits you to talk +of aught but of one being?” + +“_I?_” breathed the Abbé Sauriau, standing still to stare, revealed a +moment to himself; then with rage, “oh, he lies, he lies: Léon Bergerac +is known to be my enemy!” + +“Well, well, no doubt,” muttered the minister “... but as to this +woman, whose name is Auvache——” + +“Not the Jeanne Auvache who threw vitriol at the individual in question +at Dover on the 11th of November, threw it wide, and was imprisoned for +five months?” queried Monsieur l’Abbé. + +“It _may_,” said the minister, “be the same; in fact—it is a +possibility; though the name is not an uncommon one, Monsieur +l’Abbé—Auvache—men, women enough of that name, you will say. But I +may tell you one thing: this woman has been spied by a clerk in her +lodgings throwing vials of water at a nail’s head .... It is her hobby, +it seems, having arranged rows of vials on the floor, to eject water at +a run from them upon a nail in the wall; a drill of the eye, wrist, +fingers, that goes on regularly in the loneliness of that garret every +day; she will also practise herself in rushing with a knife to stab a +bull’s-eye on the wall—_why_, no one can say.” + +The Abbé Sauriau pondered it for some moments, and presently observed, +“She must be an imbecile.” + +“That is what I have said to myself, Monsieur l’Abbé,” replied the +minister; “why else should the woman, in wishing to obtain an _entrée_ +into the _valetaille_ Lepsius, address herself to _me_? unless by some +chance she is aware that I know one Nundcumar, a functionary in the +Palais-Lepsius.... This Nundcumar has risen, Monsieur l’Abbé. Eight +years ago he was a lean scarecrow down on his luck about Paris and +London, pretending to be a doctor of medicine, but possessing even less +knowledge of medicine than the present Prefect of Police possesses +of the police. Then he became a cook, and it was thus that I again +came across him at Egmond, the Brittany château of the Comtesse de +Pichegru-Picard. Then he remigrated to his native Agra, and was there +met and admired by the individual whom we now have in our minds—so +Nundcumar avers, though this person, who never ceases to speak, +certainly never yet produced a word which by chance was an accuracy. At +all events, I am still in touch with the man, and could easily induce +him—to-day even—to introduce that ill-used and lunatic woman into the +_valetaille_ Lepsius, provided I do not definitely find in my interview +with her presently that she has any purpose in view other than the +search for work.” + +Monsieur l’Abbé pondered it a little. Then, “Let it be so, then,” he +suddenly replied, as they now arrived at the count’s brougham; “but +though your interview will no doubt prove over-brief to permit of any +deep probing into the woman’s motives and so on, you will very likely +find the time to impress upon her that the practice, or drill, with the +_knife_, at least, is quite offensive, while——” + +“You have known how to say what I was only able to think, Monsieur +l’Abbé.... Au revoir, then.” And the Count de Courcy drove away. + +The abbé then turned to go back to the table of the gossips; but now a +little girl who was gambolling among the trees, tumbling down before +his feet and beginning to scream, immediately he had her garnered +in his arms, hugging her to his bosom, his lips on her head, with +whimperings of love (“for,” says a Note of Saïd Pasha, “he had a most +fond father’s heart, if especially for children, hardly less for all +the world, whenever he was not merciless with envy of some other +mind”); and he toyed before the child’s eyes one of his few coins, +saying, “But look, then, all this is for thee—all, all,” and he pointed +at the receding brougham, leering, breathing, “Look! that is the +brougham of Monsieur the Minister of the Interior—but look! a man whose +‘blood boils to speak of these turpitudes’ since he has need to condone +his deeds to his own shabby-genteel conscience”—and he clasped the +little girl’s fingers upon the franc, placed her on the ground, and now +hurried back to the table where by now Dr. Lepsius was again sitting +with the gossips. + + + + + CHAPTER XI. + + THE CHAMBER-WINDOW. + + +At that very time Shan Healy was speeding on a bicycle (having missed +a train) from Paris to Versailles, with perspiration raining over his +face and swear-words vented when racing through those villages paved +with old pavers, which mercilessly jerked him. It was not until six +o’clock that he got to Versailles and the Villa des Medicis there, +a house of the Comtesse de Pichegru-Picard, where, having scorched +down to the house-front through a great avenue of yews, he craved to +interview Miss Ruth Vickery. + +He was taken to the door of a chamber in the middle of which stood +three ladies talking warmly, though in low tones—two elderly ladies and +Miss Ruth Vickery; and a whirl of words was being uttered among them, +sometimes all the three trying to make their opinions heard at once, +all looking as exhausted and haggard as if they had been going on all +the day long, while in the gloom of a far corner of the room lay Miss +Eve Vickery asleep, with an appearance of exhaustion, even of swoon. +Shan Healy stood on the threshold, and he could just hear the Comtesse +de Pichegru-Picard, whom he knew very well, cry with a casting up of +her hands and eyes, “Ah, my dear Lina, you can persuade an angel or the +good God himself to change their mind, but you cannot persuade a saint +who is English too.” + +This lady, although English herself, spoke English in quite a halt +way, with effort, was tall and fair, resembling Miss Eve, her niece, in +stand and being. + +“But, Aunt,” wooed Miss Ruth, “bear with me, since I do mean well, +as in my God’s sight. Ask yourself—how can I, how could I, try to +induce Eve to marry a man who, it appears, is without even morality, +whose mood is pagan, whose aim is Cæsarian, whose God is arrogance?... +And Eve never would, I think, if I know her! You have heard her say +yourself——” + +“Ah, then, why in the good God’s name did the girl go and kiss him with +all Paris gazing at it?” exclaimed the Comtesse de Pichegru-Picard. + +“Aunt,” breathed Miss Ruth, all ruby-red, with drooped lids, “you know +that Eve did not—‘kiss’— him; he—‘kissed’—her.” + +“Ah, my good Ruth,” observed the third lady, one Madame Lina Grammont, +“the world does not draw these exquisite distinctions, believe me: it +knows that in a kiss it is generally the gentleman who both begins +against the lady’s will and ends against her will.” + +“Exactly,” remarked the Comtesse de Pichegru-Picard; “but then, we all +know our English: it is always their little mannerism to regard the +lady as made of anything but of flesh and blood. The fact, however, +that stares one in the face is that Eve is now bound to be married +immediately; and I repeat that the scandal will be less if of the two +gentlemen she chooses the one who has kissed her.” + +“Truly, the scandal will be less,” Miss Ruth answered; “and you do +not say, if you think it, that the worldly grandeurs will be greater; +but, happily for her peace, Aunt, Eve would rather choose, I think, to +live in a hovel with a Christian gentleman like the Comte de Courcy +than with one whose bosom was never vaccinated with the stigmata of +compassion and abnegation, though he were five times a Mogul.” + +“So I hear you say, my dear,” replied the countess, “though Eve herself +no doubt most accurately knows her own secret; but if it be a fact that +her stomach is such as to like the Comte de Courcy better, why will she +not send for him, since he is every hour expecting her reply?” + +“She will send, I think,” replied Miss Ruth. “What, however, was the +use of summoning papa from London unless she is to hold out for his +presence before pronouncing her decision? He should by now have arrived +in Paris, and within an hour will be in Versailles; then, I think, she +will speak, she will send, for she feels, I am sure, the nobleness of +Monsieur de Courcy’s renewed offer, and will not, I think, grieve him +by any longer——” + +But at that moment Healy at the door sneezed, and, the ladies noticing +him, two of them, still speaking eagerly together, went away through +another door, Miss Ruth going to meet Healy. She was just beginning +to say, “I am so glad——” when Healy put his lips to her ear with “Not +in here, miss! every word breathed in here all day has been heard in +the palace at Paris”—whereon he showed her the telephone over the sofa +on which Miss Eve lay asleep, whispering deeply afresh, “He’s this +minute lying on his face, hearing her very breathing, I believe”; and +when Miss Ruth, as they now moved out of the room into a vestibule, +asked how that was possible, Healy replied that it was by means of a +whispering-gallery, as at St. Paul’s in London, where anyone stationed +at the part of a circular wall farthest from a telephone in the wall +heard greatly augmented any sounds thrown out of the telephone-mouth, +being in a focus of the sound-waves. “The telephone-number of that +gallery has been plugged on to yours the whole day, miss,” Healy said, +“someone here is in his pay, and he has been lying on the ground in the +gallery with a crowd of tools strewn round about, modelling something +and listening, smiling with himself the while. I know that he knows at +what moment your papa was summoned to you, and at what moment Mr. de +Courcy’s proposal reached here; so, as soon as I could slip away when +he went out, I made paces to answer your letter in person, so as to +impress upon you that he is really in earnest in this, miss: for he has +lost time and given up other things to see to this, seeing that he had +arranged to go to the Chamber to-night, but isn’t going any more; so he +is serious, miss, oh, he means business, believe me, miss, in this, and +it will be a bitter pity if Miss Eve isn’t whipped off secretly this +hour right out of his way somehow, though, as his spies are all about——” + +“You do not believe, Healy, I see, that such a union could be good?” +said Miss Ruth, her gaze on his face. + +“Well, to be frank, no, miss, marriage wouldn’t hardly suit him,” +said the voluble Healy. “No, no; he’d be that miserable, you wouldn’t +believe; and the fonder he was of the lady, the more he’d hate and +hiss at her for making him waste time. Time’s his wife; the clock, the +clock, miss. Believe me, only to be near him, people feel in a prickly +heat themselves, as if they were breathing fever from some fierce +atmosphere—the very Orientals in the palace, miss, only that slothful +old story-teller, Nundcumar.... No, no, miss, do now, he’ll be that +miserable——” + +“And his lady, too, I think, Healy?” suggested Miss Ruth, with her +smile. + +“Well, and the lady, too, now you mention it, miss,” Healy agreed; +“true enough—the lady too; she’d be like a dog tied behind a railway +train, couldn’t keep up the pace anyhow; try now, miss, try, try; +he’ll be that wretched, you wouldn’t believe, and everything’ll be +changed, and instead of me it’ll be the lady may be, and I nowhere with +him; try, try. From that night in the forest round the ruined town of +Anuradhapura, he has been good friends with me—till two days ago when +the doctor came to France. I have told you about that night before, +miss. Oh, that’s a forest, if you like, boundless, miss, I can tell +you, and the men and brutes of that country move about in a brown, +brown day, miss—big black brutes looming upon you out of the gloom with +their stupid gazing, and thousands upon thousands of gods and ogres of +stone broken to bits in those groves a thousand centuries ago, they +say. He left me one nightfall at the top of one of the big dagabas +to go all by himself into the dark of the timber, I to watch each +nightfall there till he should come back with the piece of a stele; and +there on the dagaba I watched and waited fifteen weeks, miss, night by +night, till I began to fancy that he was gone for good. Eh, but he did +come back to me all right, miss, one darksome night, under the large +stars which look upon those parts, almost starved and stark naked he +was, bearing forty old stone boxes on top of a buffalo-cart; and in +his hand was that little gold thing made in the shape of a pear which +he never lets go of, and even in his sleep keeps with him.... Do you +know what’s in that little thing, miss? A little key, they say; and +that old story-teller, Nundcumar, who fancies he knows everything, +says that this little key opens a certain casket in which there’s a +second key; and that second key opens a certain safe in which there’s +a third key; and that third key opens a certain turret at Serapis, the +Brittany palace, in which there’s a fourth key; and that fourth key +opens a certain chamber in which there’s a fifth key; and that fifth +key—I can’t quite call to mind what the fifth key opens; any way, it +goes on till you get to the twelfth key, which opens the room in which +all his jewels and riches are strewn—so says that Nundcumar, miss, and +whereabouts under the ground that room may be no human being has yet +got scent of, though that Nundcumar swears that _he_ knows where; and +the key to the whole is within that little gold thing made in the shape +of a pear which he never lets go of, miss.” + +At this Miss Vickery, with her stare of child-wonder, stared at Healy, +muttering, “How very much lighter and kinder would he feel, now, if he +had no keys, nor any jewels to lay up for himself!” + +“Doubtless, miss,” said the other; “but that’s how it stands—what would +you have? What was I saying? Oh, about that night in the forest round +about the ruined town of Anuradhapura; yes, that’s a forest, miss, if +you like—boundless; but I think I’ve told you about that night before, +miss, often; and from that night he has been good friends with me, till +two days ago, when the doctor came——” + +“Does he still avoid a meeting with his father?” asked Miss Vickery in +a voice of secrecy. + +“Rather, miss; his treatment of that old man is so shocking——” Healy +commenced to answer, but was checked by a “_sh-h-h_” breathed by +Miss Ruth, who through the doorway had noticed Miss Eve moving in +her sleep; and they two stood peeping at the unfolding of Miss Eve’s +eyes, saw Miss Eve notice a Bible which lay open by her nose on the +sofa-cushion—a Bible which had been placed there by Miss Ruth with one +phrase in it underlined in blue—saw her take the Book to gloat closely +over the phrase in the gloaming’s dusk, saw her laugh, and, after +laughing, suddenly press her lips upon the phrase with ravishment, to +drop suddenly afresh on the cushion with a covering up of the face; the +phrase which she had read and kissed being this, “Be ye not unequally +yoked with unbelievers.” + +“Steal softly in,” breathed Miss Ruth to Healy; and softly she herself, +having moved into the room, stole on tip-toe quite to the telephone, +the opening of which she shut off and stuffed up, Miss Eve meanwhile +seeming still asleep; and to Healy Miss Ruth now said aloud, “Continue +now, Healy, to speak of your master’s treatment of his poor father.” + +Healy looked at her, and, discerning her meaning, whispered to himself, +“Why, if she isn’t as wise as a serpent!” + +“No, miss,” he added aloud, “he won’t see the doctor not on no account: +never once seen him willingly since the day he left the island in your +yacht; flies him like death, he does. Fact is, he is nervous of the +doctor; nothing on earth below, nor in heaven above, is he nervous of, +but of the doctor he is. Can’t get over his youth, you see, can’t get +over all those years in which he used to believe the doctor a god, +not a human being—shuns him as death, he does. And partly it’s the +doctor’s own fault, I must say, for that’s only the truth, you know, +miss, seeing that the doctor is going all dead against him, taking part +with his political enemies, and he well aware of it, for there’s an eye +spying for him behind every blind, so to say; and he’s afraid of the +doctor, oh, he’s afraid, miss, that the doctor’s big brains may be +digging his grave for him. So that’s his excuse, look; but still, when +all’s said, his conduct to the doctor has been just shocking—shocking +it has. Again and again has the old soul’s nose pressed against his +gates, and begged and prayed to be let in, but no go; and that time +at Lyons when the old man tried to spring into the carriage, just as +Master Hanni stepped down out of the town-hall, that was a bit beyond: +for as the father made to spring in, the son darted to the reins, the +horses pranced and started off, leaving a father prostrate and bleeding +on the street—oh no, that was a bit beyond, that was.” + +Miss Vickery, with her face averted from the narrator, held her eyes +bent skyward with a steadfast gaze, begging for God’s forgiveness of +men; but from Miss Eve, who must have heard, who was meant to hear, +neither word was uttered, nor a stir seen. + +After a silence the talkative Healy proceeded to remark, “Well, I can +understand him, miss. I recollect that when I was a little lad ten +years of age, one day a great big girl of thirteen meets me in a lane, +miss, and begins to kiss and hug me—couldn’t make out anyhow what it +was about, so I got pretty scared, I did, and from that day for years, +if I but spied that lass a league off, my hair’d go creepy, I’d take +to my heels like a long-dog, and I do believe if I caught sight of +her even now, I’d be bound to do a dart for it. It’s the same with +Master Hanni—shy, shy; the doctor’s a great big bogey to him—thinks the +doctor’ll be digging his grave, though he knows that the doctor can’t. +And who suffers for it, miss? _I_ do. Thinks I am secretly on the +doctor’s side against him, can’t believe I’m on his side against all +comers, thinks I’m always going to ‘betray’ him to the doctor, trusts +no one, trusts no one, it’s hard, because——” + +Now, however, that stream of Healy’s speech was checked by the +appearance in the doorway of a gentleman neatly dressed in grey, with a +grey top-hat on his head, a neat umbrella, and side-whiskers, with him +being the Comtesse de Pichegru-Picard and Madame Grammont; and Healy, +seeing him, murmured, “Your pa, miss,” and now bowed himself out; while +Mr. Vickery, darting his eyes all about the room, and discerning in the +gloom his younger girl on the couch, rushed by Miss Ruth without any +greeting, his eyes brimming with tears, his mouth trembling, and on his +knees garnering Miss Eve in his arms, gave way now to weeping, again +and again darting down his lips at her mouth, with pausings to gaze at +her face, then again darting down at her mouth, with mania. + +Miss Eve sat up, breathing “papa,” and laughed a little, casting back +some hairs from her brow with a gesture which, undoubtedly, was not +without something of hectic and hare-brained. Indeed, she appeared that +day to be dwelling in a region so infected with fever, that through the +day she had been treated as a patient, and on the sick list. + +“Well, here I am,” Mr. Vickery said to her, “just arrived by God’s +help—in time, I hope.... Got a headache, have you? my soul? my love?” + +Miss Eve smiled triumphantly in her parent’s face, replying, “No, papa; +why should I?” + +“That’s all right, don’t say a word,” muttered the father, fast patting +her arm, “don’t say a word.... Well, here I am, you see; arrived, +arrived, by God’s help. And—I have telegraphed to Monsieur de Courcy +to come. Have I done well? I thought I would, and—I did. All the way +from London to Paris I was praying to be guided, and the moment I got +to Paris the thought was given me to telegraph at once to Monsieur de +Courcy, and—I did.” + +“Did you, papa?” asked Miss Eve, smiling with her father. + +“Yes. Eve, have I done well?” + +“Why, papa, I think so,” replied Miss Eve, smiling that defiance which +is amused, that triumph which is secure. “Monsieur de Courcy is a most +estimable man.” + +“He is; but still, Eve, tell me, tell me, dear—have I done well?” + +“Oh, I quite think so, papa.... Have you had a pleasant trip across?” + +“No, no, let us be frank now; let us make use of plain terms, let’s not +mince matters, Eve; come now, tell your papa—my own, my sweet—will you +have de Courcy?” + +“Oh, as to that, why, I think so, papa,” replied Miss Eve with some +appearance of surprise about the eye-brows. “I thought that that was +rather understood as a settled thing: ask Ruth, ask aunt: they’ll tell +you that Monsieur de Courcy, that model of morals, high at the head of +my list, hasn’t a rival to dread.” + +Upon this the father turned with an opening of the arms toward the +other ladies, saying, “Why, this is well.... You didn’t tell me!” + +No reply was made to him; only the Comtesse de Pichegru-Picard +exchanged half a smile with Madame Grammont, who just shrugged, while +Miss Ruth remained with her eyelids drooped. + +“Why, that’s all right, then!” cried Mr. Vickery to Miss Eve: “I knew, +I knew, that my dear’s instincts would strike true. Well, de Courcy +should have nearly reached Versailles by this, and—you’ll be sending +him away a happy man, will you? Is that settled?” + +The young lady, contemplating her father’s face with a calm smile, +replied, “Quite settled, papa—for _my_ share. If it _can_ be, it shall +be.” + +“‘_Can_ be?’ What does she mean?”—Mr. Vickery threw this whisper at +the other ladies behind him; but before anything further could be +uttered, a bomb was hurled into the _salon_ by the words of a servant +who entered, saying “Monsieur Lepsius to talk with Mr. Vickery”—and he +handed a card. + +Straight sprang Mr. Vickery up, Miss Eve also raising herself by +degrees, and all with blanched cheeks gaped in silence at the menial, +till Mr. Vickery, his visage rushing into crimson, cried in a high and +hysteric kind of cry, “Say to that gentleman that Mr. Vickery, being +engaged, begs him to state his business by letter!” + +The menial bowed and backed out, and immediately now there reigned a +gale of breaths among the ladies, Madame Grammont and the countess +making a thousand gesticulations together, Mr. Vickery standing again +pale-faced by a reaction, Miss Ruth at him instigating him to be grim, +Miss Eve moving about from place to place, reading the titles of books, +glancing at trees outside, glancing at looking-glasses. + +It lasted four minutes, which seemed much more, after which the menial +was once more there, bearing a note scribbled in pencil, whose folds +Mr. Vickery tremblingly opened. Miss Ruth meantime breathing in his +ear, “Pray, papa, do not read it aloud!”—words which Miss Eve either +heard or surmised, for now immediately she muttered with some huff, +“Oh, I have no wish to hear anything,” and went away. + +The rest then, laying their heads over the note, read the words: “Dear +sir,—I, a suitor for your daughter’s hand, having run a race with +another suitor to your door, and having won the race, am amazed at your +want of fairness and also of forethought in refusing me an audience. +Why do you? Pray question yourself. Can any king with a rope restrain +the rolling of rivers or the drift of fate? I warn you that you waste +your time in this, causing me also the woe of wasting mine; nor could +that be just to another suitor to permit Miss Eve Vickery in a freakish +humour to promise him marriage, since she has no such intention, +knowing that such a nonsense is not on the files of life.—LEPSIUS.” + +It was Madame Grammont who, gifted with the strongest eyesight, read +the note aloud in a monotone, the gloaming in the room having now +grown very heavy; and as she finished, and all raised their eyes, all +started, for there afresh was Miss Eve, who had been seen to leave the +chamber, hovering anew near to hear. + +“I am not to be browbeaten!” suddenly cried Mr. Vickery in a high kind +of cry. + +“Ah, papa, no agitation, papa!” Miss Ruth called through a throat whose +music broke. + +“I say I am not to be browbeaten, I am not to be threatened!” screamed +Mr. Vickery querulously afresh in an ecstasy, for the atmosphere was +all electric, and each one present caught from all the rest a hectic +cheek and a lip of quivering. + +“My God, I foresaw all! and my advice was not followed,” cried the +Comtesse de Pichegru-Picard, with a casting up of the hands. + +“‘The files of life,’ ‘the drift of fate’!” Madame Grammont muttered in +a maze. + +“Get my daughter’s trunks packed!” cried the father; “am I an +Englishman? Are there no laws?” + +“Calm, papa, calm!” called out Miss Ruth anew: “ah, how disastrous! +papa, I warn you, this agitation is fatal to the welfare of the soul!” + +“Oh, Ruth, let one alone!” now said the countess in an irritation +without restraint; “it is you who are the cause of all, at the end of +the tale.” + +“Aunt, I?” asked Miss Ruth, with reproach lodged in the soul of her +eyes. + +“But no, Margaret, but no,” protested Madame Grammont: “it is not the +fault of Ruth, it is not the fault of Ruth.” + +“Let me get my girl out of this infernal country!” now cried out the +high-strung Mr. Vickery; “it is France that has done this!” + +“Oh, but be reasonable, Matthieu, at the end of the tale!” the countess +mouthed, with intolerance. + +“Quite right, papa,” now cried out Miss Eve in a spirit of rollicking +and recklessness, “let us clearly prove to everyone that we act in no +‘humour of freak,’ having a will of our own!” + +“My love!” cried Mr. Vickery. + +“‘The files of life,’” mused Madame Grammont anew; “‘humour of +freakishness’!” + +“Ah, but he is right, believe me!” cried the Comtesse de +Pichegru-Picard; “he has his meaning! he knows Eve better than she +knows herself.” + +“You and others may _think_ so, Aunt,” called Miss Eve, snapping her +thumb and finger daintily up in the air, with a wheel on her feet. + +“But he may still be there!” said Madame Grammont; “is he still there +at the door, Gabriel?” + +“Monsieur Lepsius has departed, madame,” the gaudy Gabriel gave answer, +who through all this had stood there with a bowed brow. + +“What happened in the hall?” asked the countess. “Did Monsieur Lepsius +make any attempt to enter?” + +“Monsieur Lepsius desired to enter, madame,” answered Gabriel, “when I +gave him Mr. Vickery’s reply that it might be better for him to state +his business by letter; but on his attempt to force an entrance, both +Baptiste and myself barred his advance with our arms outspread, and +he then, after staring a moment into our faces, broke into a laugh, +hastily wrote the note that has been handed you, and drove very quickly +away.” + +“Did Monsieur Lepsius utter any remark at all?” Madame Grammont began +to ask, but before the words were well uttered, there had entered +another flunky, who came to proclaim the presence of Monsieur de Courcy +at the door; whereupon—a renewed flutter and flurry of consultation! +until the ladies rushed from the room, leaving Mr. Vickery to receive +the visitor; and immediately in came the Minister of the Interior +with his brisk and breezy air, but about his brow now a shade of +deliberation. + +They two then conversed together until the hour when the dinner-gong +began to sing out, whereupon the ladies in their bravery came sailing +in, smirking as superbly now as personalities translated beyond the +concerns of earth; and after a little small-talk the visitor stepped +away with them to dinner. + +However, they had not well moved out of the room when now the +telephone-rattle in the alcove started to prattle, upon which Mr. +Vickery with passion in his heart darted back to it, and Miss Eve also +doubled back to be near, though remaining far from her father in the +centre of the apartment, staring. + +“Who are you?” called Mr. Vickery, the receiver at his ear. + +The answer was “Lepsius,” and even Miss Eve, though hovering away off +in the middle of the room, could hear it in thunder, for the speaker +now no doubt lay in his whispering-gallery, where the sound-waves from +his mouth, focusing themselves upon his telephone, struck monstrous +rough, their grumble trumpeting unease upon Mr. Vickery’s ear-drum with +the gutturalness of some grum god thundering; and, “I want to speak +with Miss Eve Vickery,” grumbled the thunder. + +“It is Mr. Vickery who hears you!” + +“I know; allow one to speak with Miss Eve, Mr. Vickery!” + +Now with wide eyes hied Miss Eve on tip-toe nigh, hissing, “_Say I am +at dinner, papa!_” + +“Miss Eve Vickery is about to sit down to dinner,” Mr. Vickery cried, +with stricter accuracy. + +“She will not eat much!... But as for you, Mr. Vickery, will you have +me for a son-in-law?” + +“The proposal sounds abrupt, Monsieur Lepsius!” + +“Why so? How much waste of time is necessary? And what is your +complaint against me? I quite fail to gather this.” + +“It cannot be discussed over the telephone!” + +“Why can it not? Is it that you are offended with me for kissing your +daughter?” + +“_S-s-s-s-s, sir!_... But I am being awaited at dinner, Monsieur +Lepsius!” + +“It was not I who wished to kiss her, it was she who wished to kiss me!” + +“Eve, go! go!” screamed Mr. Vickery, warding his daughter away with one +arm. + +“Say, papa,” Miss Eve hissed, reaching far forward to her father’s +ear with her cheeks afire, “that I am affianced to a good and gallant +gentleman!” + +“My daughter——” Mr. Vickery commenced to call. + +“Tell Miss Eve, sir,” the thunderer rumbled, “that I can hear each word +that she utters, and that I know she does not mean one syllable of any +one of them.” + +“I have to wish you good evening, Monsieur Lepsius!” cried Mr. Vickery +with a high-pitched cry. + +“Go, if you choose; but you prove yourself a feeble and foolish old +pantaloon, you know.” + +“And you, sir, a courteous young gentleman!” upon which Mr. Vickery put +up the receiver, and went with one cheek-bone branded rosy, and one +blanched, Miss Eve smiling, with her eyes alight, by his side. + +The meal was then eaten serenely by all, after which, in the midst of +Parisian chat in the salon, it was found not impossible to bring about, +without intention, a _tête-à-tête_ between Miss Eve and the Minister +of the Interior; and Monsieur de Courcy, having come through this with +success, remained still on, the merriest of ministers and men, until +close on eleven o’clock, when, hunted down by a mounted officer with a +cipher, he made his bows, and went away. + +And now anew the family sat in council to discuss the situation of +affairs, though Miss Eve now took no share in it, seated far aloof, +with her cheek on her palm, looking out into the dark of the park. +At midnight she bid good-night; and, having gone up to her chamber, +having been prepared for her bed, and having prayed by her bedside, was +soon lying in the semi-gloom of a big bedroom, with her will bent upon +slumber. But sleep she could not, though two hours went by. One of her +jalousie-windows lying open, through this she could perceive trees, +mountains, and in the sky a moon moving in and out among mounds of +cloud, now drowning the countryside in shine, and now shrouding it in +shadow; until this growing into a grievance and a weariness, at last +she got up, swathed all that elongation of her form in a great drapery, +got her violin and bow, and in an arm-chair by the jalousie played. So +that she might not be heard, she had first shut the shutter and fixed +the bar, though, as her apartments were in a rather remote part of the +château, this was hardly very necessary, since it was Mendelssohn’s +Andante which she chose to utter in a low tone; and there during many +minutes she remained in a mood of drooping, moving the air of the room +with the mazes of the music, roaming over and over anew through the +same old moon-realms of melancholy, feeling even sleepy now, her ear +wearied out with sweetness; until on a sudden she had sprung upon her +feet, her cheeks struck white like a sheet, and her eyes wide with +affright. + +“Who is it?” she hoarsely hissed, for outside the shutter a tap had +sounded. + +“I! Open!” some chest panted to her, and she knew him, yet anew she +hissed with all her wild heart in her windpipe, “_Who is it? What is +it?_” + +“The staple to which I hang is giving to my weight,” the chest gasped: +“forty seconds and I fall a corpse.” + +In ten Lepsius had leapt within the window.... + +And now were boundless breaths! and the rough sirocco broken free, +flights for life, puffs, pantings, runnings to and fro, momentary +manias, aimless aims! “Help!” hissed her hoarse heart’s breath, +“this wardrobe, help!” whereat he, quite carried away by her rage of +agitation, hardly knowing why, caught hold of one side of a wardrobe, +while she bent and laboured at the other side, bearing it somewhither. +But it was a huge mass Henri Quatre, which, being moved, naturally +made some hubbub, so he threw the whisper across to her, “It makes a +racket!” whereto her pant replied “Never mind, help!” and finally by +tugs and effort they got one narrow side of it against a wall, one +broad side against the bed-foot; and now anew she flew, with “This +couch, help!” and he helped her to place the couch against the wall and +against the bed-head; and now it was “Now, this chair!” and he helped +her to heap an easy-chair upon the couch, feet up: which done, she +scrambled quick across the bed’s breadth, and now stood in the place +betwixt bed and wall, barricaded now from him in front by the bed, to +the left by the wardrobe, to the right by the couch and the chair. And +then immediately all that to-do was seen to be needless when her hand +happened to hit upon a key in the wall behind her, for there was a door +there in the wall, and a small window also by it above, and behind +the door some steps leading up to another chamber a little above the +bed-chamber; so immediately she scuttled through the door, locked it +within, skipped up the four steps, appeared at the window, threw the +key from her down upon the bed before him, and now succumbed to the +floor, panting, safe at any rate from herself. + +He, looking up to the window, threw out to her the whisper, “You are +wise! You are witty!” upon which she sprang up to throw out to him the +whisper, “Do not come across the bed!” for he stood now with one knee +on it, and she could see him in a ray of the moon as she had first +beheld him at The Towers in a red shirt loose about the neck and belt, +without any jacket or hat; and he, too, could see her in shadow at the +window. + +“Did I not help you to escape?” he asked her; and then disjointedly, +“Do you wear the half-coin which I sent you?” + +Miss Eve gave no reply, getting by degrees her breath again in silence. + +“Did you know in your heart,” he asked her, “that I would come +to-night? You were waiting up for me, playing the fiddle; it was that +Andante of Mendelssohn; you played it four times over.” + +“Lepsius, you must go,” Miss Eve said. + +“I will go near the peep of day, and you with me!” + +“No, now; and without me, I think.” + +“Oh, you are cold,” he replied, “and I hate your stone’s heart: cold +by nature, and colder by hypocrisy that penetrates your texture to +the core of you. Oh, I know and foreknow you to my agony, negative, +null, enigmatic, like a watch which won’t go, though one goads it, +and finally one crushes it under a rock; as frigid as that water of a +mortal quality which drips from a rock in the territory of Nonacris; or +like that bag——” + +But she stopped him with, “Lepsius, you should go!” whereat he leaned +keenly across to whisper her, “Cold! I am told that your mother was a +patrician of a most ancient race, so from her you have that faintness +of air, your rarity of blood, which makes you resemble lilies too +super-cultivated and rare to transparency, or resemble that aroma that +you exhale, or hoary old ages of Asia gone that give no answer to the +historian’s gaze. No, the mortal heart can’t hold you all, you are far +too large for me.... That superciliousness, all but Chinese somehow, in +the heave of your eyebrow’s arch, that rather-too-much of the eyewhites +shown below the irises ... though I admire, mind, the faintness of +it, the faint disdain, the dieaway disdain, so confirmed and hoary, +reposed and at home in the universe, with which you look out askance +upon the world; and now dark circles will be under them, for I vow you +shan’t sleep, and that will please me to be conscious that you are +marked with dark underlids because of me.” + +“I did not think,” Miss Eve rejoined, leaning both her elbows on the +window’s sill, “that you were such a silly boy.” + +He during some seconds did not answer this, drew back a bit from the +bed with a bent head, reflecting, and then said, “Well, it is silly, it +is self-sacrifice; and yet—curious! while I fought against you, since +it is silly, I thought it sillier than after I gave in to you. Silly, +indeed, I still see it, for these feelings of love make the blood to +flow from the front of the brain to other caves of the frame—ruinously! +so that loving is a reverting to lower-animal natures whose brains are +less largely furnished with blood, the sense of romance and poetry in +loving being due to some umbra of remembrance in us of old brutes, +moons, and moods, of the geologic ooze, the deluge, the roll in the +Jurassic morass, the rufous Vesuvius, the gloomy lagoon, when the +moon glowed more big and close to this globe. Love is thus a fall and +relapse; and yet—curiously——” + +When he paused, she asked, “Well?” upon which he said, “My +consciousness has been enlarged by it. I see, in fact, that though it +is a fall toward the past, and silly, it is the one silliness that one +may partly pardon oneself in view of its use to the future, because man +will not always be man, and ages forward I see the sons’ sons of you +and me a multitude, shining like stars in the sky, vaunting John to +George in voices of joy. No other children instead of ours, if ours +are preordained to be born, will do for this evolution: for, since we +observe that the perfection which is purposed by the earth can never be +accomplished but by a preordained marshalling of atoms, we know that, +if this or that atom fails of its place, nothing can be done: far less +if this or that baby fated to be born fails anon to be born.” + +Miss Eve, her face half concealed with her palm, asked, “But _what_ is +fated? that is the question. We imagine that what we wish is fated.” + +“Love is apparently an instinct of fate,” Lepsius replied: “the lover +prophesies in a kind of trance of triumphs to come. True, he is +silly, since he sacrifices his time and life, but when he succumbs +in his fight with the world-typhoon which whirls him to the moon, +he can excuse his infirmity with a sense that this time it is worth +while. I find that I have a tendency to reflect upon you in reveries +extravagant to grotesqueness, comparing you with galaxies, fragrances, +graces, fairies, lilies, with Dewildé, and Helen of Troy, and the boy +Crobylus of Corinth, and that purple of Hermione whose wool was combed +with poison-honey and oil of lotus; and though this is not strictly a +truth at present of you, it is strictly a true instinct and prophecy +of princes to spring through you. The line of your profile has a hint +of hollowness to the eye, owing only to a most slight jutting of your +chin’s point, a nothing which has overjoyed me with emotions the most +poignant, with a sense of brotherhood for you, with a sense of the +earth from her furnace-birth to her furthest sunsets, when the sun +shall shine much nigher her, and the moon loom hugely: and I have +compared you with ages, and with the Lady in the Chair of Cassiopeia. +Or, looking sideways at you with your legs crossed, I have been +struck by the great prolongation of your thigh-bones—so great that you +could hardly run on your toes and palms, as I and apes may, since your +kneecaps would doubtless graze the ground—so evolved, patrician: and +I have cried extravagantly that, at their greatest stretch, the very +galaxy would find space and to spare ’twixt their gaping gateway—an +extravagance merely in appearance, since it is in a trance-dream of +graces great even to _infinity_ in types fated to grow from you that +I thus exclaim; it is my subconsciousness, nay, my consciousness +somewhat, all bewildered with a blaze of the world-wonder, and how, +darling, but in boundless words may the mortal heart blurt out a little +that burden of the Eternal? Or when I think of my love’s upper-shape, +so _élancé_, like the racer’s stretch of waist and neck, like one +escaping, dodging, eluding upward—dodging, eluding the ape-shape—the +very revelation of evolution——” + +Here Miss Eve smiled, remarking dryly, “Lepsius, you are full of apes.” + +“Aren’t you? Isn’t the world?” he asked; upon which she said, “Yes, +I know your low view of men—and of women, I suppose, still more; but +beside my _élancé_ upper-shape, my thigh-bone, my chin, my faded old +air and hoary disdain of iris, I have a mind, which is jealous of your +omission to mention it.” + +“I meant to mention it!” + +“Oh?” says she, “that was too sweet of you. Last but not least?” + +“By no means least!” he answered earnestly: “a mind, I am certain, +better than mine.” + +“Ah, now you are insincere,” she said. + +“I to you? As if I could be!” Lepsius replied with reproach; “I only, +of course, mean a mind better than mine in possibility, since yours is +uneducated, and mine more or less educated.” + +“Mine un——! But what, then, is ‘education’ in your view?” she wished to +know. + +“Education,” he told her, “is a waking of one’s subconsciousness to +consciousness. I, for instance, know nothing that you do not—or not +much; but I am much more conscious of what we both know. Tell me, +now—whereabouts were you twenty-four hours since?” + +“Where?” repeated Miss Eve: “I was—here,” whereto he replied, “You see, +that answer and its tone shows that your education was never initiated. +You know, no doubt—are subconscious—that you were a thousand thousand, +and half a thousand thousand, miles from here, flying at the speed of +fifteen times a rifle-bullet’s rabies: subconscious, but not conscious +of it. I, now, could never say ‘_here_’ in that fashion, without +compunction, as though a million miles or two were of no account, +Eve, since now and at each instant I can hardly but be conscious of +this horse that jaunts us, and his ardour.... Oh, this race of man +suppurates in dullness, you know, and I am sometimes most—lonely: I +mention this to you that you may compassionate and come to me. I ride a +star, inhabiting the unbounded as my house, and the rest, more drowsing +than the dormouse, Tortoni’s; their glance of a morning darts no +surprise of gladness at this romance of time, space and game of balls, +the Grand Boulevard their galaxy, pigmies grey, phlegmatic, unflushed, +unconscious of their contemporaries in a myriad realms of the creation, +among whom are at this moment taking place great crises, hegiras, +revolutions, doomsdays, moonfalls, vast marches, everlasting partings; +they little know that Venus is uneven and severe in scenery, nor does +the thundering of even the nearest sun stun their ear-drum; uneducated; +not polite citizens of time and space.” + +“But you remember——” Miss Eve started to say, but now, startled by some +sound, breathed eagerly to him, “_did you hear something_?” + +“It is a mouse going down the right sound-hole of your violin,” he +replied; and now Miss Eve anew leaned her elbow on her window-sill to +continue saying, “But you remember that all this you started to utter +of _me_, then continued with ‘they,’ ‘they’; since then, as ‘they’ are +so _I_, why are you there by my bed?” + +“But are you not in all things far above me?” he asked, “save in this +of a wakeful consciousness?” + +“But this of a wakeful consciousness,” said she, “is everything, is it +not? It is this which makes the difference between a genius and an ape, +a god and a dog, you believe, do you not? And you have it, and not I. +Only a thigh-bone I own, let me be thrown to a dog.” + +Upon this Lepsius bent well across the bed to throw to her the whisper, +“Hypocrite! Colder than the coldest Kydnus! It is your mind that I +esteem, and in speaking of your thigh, implied it.... You should +shun the mood of the modern woman of the West, ever touchy as to her +footing, as to the spirit of the marriage-law, and men’s estimate of +her mentality. Men _must_ admire the mind of woman, for since we know +that we all get our wit from our mother, as our grit from our father, +therefore I, having my mind from a female, must needs love the female +mind with home-longing, as you, having your grit from a male, must love +the male grit with home-longing; so it is not for my wit that you love +me, but because you are instinctive that I am gritty and good; nor is +it for your grit that I love you, but because I am instinctive that, +if educated, you would be witty, and will make witty babies. Give up, +then, I beg you, for ever, the idea that I despise your mind, since I +do so idolise it; and believe, too, that, for each one of these reasons +which I can discover for my love of you, myriads of other reasons +exist, ineffable, unknowable to us, but in some manner known to that +Man to whose behests men may at no moment but submit.” + +“What Man is that?” Miss Eve asked, frowning, her wits rather winded +now and flustered at the speed of her speaker’s thoughts. + +“I mean, do I not,” said he, “the genius of our species? In every crowd +of a thousand there are present, are there not? not a thousand, but +a thousand and One, which One we can speak of as the ‘genius of the +crowd,’ since it leads each of the thousand by the nose, making him +behave in a totally different way than when alone—especially in such +crowds as French crowds, which rush into action like one individual, as +in ’92. So in _séances_ where those gathered believe that a ghost tilts +their table, there is indeed a species of ghost-Man there, an eighth +in a meeting of seven, a ‘genius of the crowd,’ compounded, no doubt, +of the brain-rays radiated out from the seven. So, too, of the crowd +who make up our human race: a Genius-of-the-species, his escutcheon +and escheats mentioned on no census-sheet, leads us at each moment, +teaching me to know and adore you, and none below the sun but you: to +know you well: the very mood of the tune which, if you could be turned +into a rhapsody of music, you would produce, a tune with some alto +undertone, more old-eternal than the world. Beloved. But I fail to +utter half, beloved, my heart faints....” + +“Do you love me?” Miss Eve asked him in a whisper, leaning now far out +of her window to him, who leaned near to her. + +“Beloved,” Lepsius groaned, and again, “beloved.... When I came home +from the Quai d’Orsay last night, I dropped down in a drowse, and, +with the feast of your kiss still warm in my mouth, I thought in my +dream that your feet walked with mine athwart fields of asphodel in +future far, far off under a forlorn and morphia moon—I could not tell +you. Then in the dark of the morning I awaked, and you were not there +in my arms. I passed my palm thrice across my bed of straws, but you +were nowhere there; so I had the thought that my darling might be in +the garden, among the lilies by the lake, gazing up at my casement, a +thought half-crazy, half-drowsy; but up I bounded and raced all round +the palace-walls, gazing down into the gardens in order to spy you out +and call you up, and you were nowhere there. If one of the spokes of +the kite-contrivance on which I fly had not been broken, I should have +flown to you. But I ran down, got out, and began to run to you; and +the _sergents de ville_ must have asked themselves where Lepsius was +rushing to under the morning stars, with half a thought, perhaps, in +their heart’s heart of a _coup d’état_.” + +“You didn’t come,” Miss Eve observed. + +“No,” he answered, “I turned back; four leagues to Versailles, and I +had already lost a good deal of time on your account.... Eve, I have +lost hours.” + +This he avowed with a bowed brow, and “Dear me,” breathed Miss Eve with +irony; then, suddenly, like one whose will arises and triumphs, added, +“It would have been so fruitless, too.... Lepsius, you should, perhaps, +be given to know—can you see? this one is the ring: I am engaged.” + +“Bomb of _poudre Rachel_,” Lepsius mumbled with a chuckle; “so you came +to an arrangement with de Courcy this evening?” + +“Yes, then,” Miss Eve said, _her_ left shoulder, too, shaken a second +by a chuckle. + +“And the same night you admit another lover to your bed-chamber!” he +said, chuckling. + +“Oh, well,” she muttered with lowered lids, chuckling within one +shoulder, and they chuckled one with the other. + +“Are ladies, then, restrained by no scruples as to justice?” Lepsius +asked. “Delighter in lies! enigma! through what abstruse movement +of your bosom did you get yourself into this embroglio? Not that it +matters; but you will inflict a sense of injury upon this man, who +has done you no injury,” a speech at which in one instant Miss Eve +flew into a passion, and, leaning forth, thrice struck the window-sill +imperiously, crying through a gruff throat, “As God is my witness——” + +“Sh-h-h,” Lepsius went. + +“Let me speak!” she imperiously hissed: “I mean to marry him, do you +hear it? Heaven be my witness!” and up she threw her eyes, trembling as +she held them bent on high. + +“Eve, no,” said Lepsius gently: “you do not mean to do that; you +believe that you do, but meantime in your subconsciousness you firmly +confide in me never to permit such an absurdity, and so can afford to +boast and be wayward.... Dear, would it not certainly kill us both?” + +“If it kills a host I will do it!” Miss Eve heatedly replied; “never +through life have I broken a promise, nor now shall begin with a vow; +given and pledged is my troth; God be my witness in this.” + +“But _why_ did you give it and pledge it? I can’t guess!” + +“Because I chose!” + +“Cogent waste of three words!” + +“I shall never have _you_, anyway!” she said with a nod and threat of +the head. + +“And why?” he asked in a bewilderment. + +“Because you despise my mind!” she sharply replied. + +“I have already explained why that is quite impossible,” he made answer. + +“Oh, woman knows her own secret, and people’s explanations make no +impression upon her intuitions. You despise my mind; and there’s this +still deeper reason against any getting together of you and me, that I +despise yours.” + +“I despise it, too; yet I endure it.” + +“Oh!” she sighed, “that untrue humility of yours, it irritates me +to the soul, till I hate! ... doubly untrue because insincere, and +because, if it were sincere, it would be true to facts: for whereas you +regard yourself as far greater than all, all as as far greater than you +as you fancy them smaller, since your greatness is bedraggled rags that +prevents you from being good. Oh, why are you not some ordinary wight, +a young workman, Lepsius, a mason, a sailor, who has never learned to +spell? Then some girl would so gleefully desert all her father’s—— But +now, ah, _il desir vive, e la speranza è morta_!... Do you, by the way, +still believe it fine to steal?” + +“Successfully, you mean?” he said quickly; “stealing seldom needs much +show of wit, but _swindling_ is very frequently fine. You, I know, do +not appreciate its fineness, but to me it is evident; it is lying in +deed as you frequently do in speech.” + +That this would give the profoundest offence Lepsius had no grounds to +think, lying being to his philosophy no crime; but with that chastity +of the swan, which, being but brushed in her array of whiteness, frills +and ruffles awhile, then with majesty swims away, so she ruffled. + +“Not ‘frequently,’ I think,” Miss Eve repeated; “if I ‘lie,’ it is to +myself, unwittingly; and in every event differ from you in fancying it +‘fine.’ Anyhow, now you can see how what you have wanted is out of the +question.” + +At this Lepsius, looking at her under his eyes, said, “Eve, be sincere +with me!” + +“I mean to be sincere,” Miss Eve told him; “I do hope I am; yes, I +_am_. We hate each other, Lepsius, shockingly, like cat and dog, oh, +we _do_, do not gainsay it. _I_ lack a culture you have, _you_ lack +a culture I have—in my very marrow. Oh, I know that you are awfully +clever and all that, and you fancy that because you can deck me with +queenship I shall be dashing myself feverish and shivering upon your +breast, little dreaming that the more thrones you throw before my +feet, the more bitterly I’ll spurn and keep you groaning in purgatory +eternally. They say that just before the Exhibition you will be +shooting into the sky a kind of sun infused with stored-up moonlight, +which will make private lights at night useless through Europe, and +France the richest of the nations; and that then, during the business +of the Exhibition, you mean in a _coup d’état_ to seize the throne, so +as to sweep France off to overrun Providence knows what. It sounds +mighty grand—I don’t know if it is true; I only know—forgive my +outspokenness—that it is howlingly vulgar, that it is not Christian, +and that I should have far greater joy of a young mason or sailor-boy +who behaves graciously to his father—one with a belt, may be, and your +figure—that is——” + +She stopped, and he said, “I listen,” but as she added nothing, he then +said, “‘Vulgar,’ ‘not Christian’; your criticism, of course, interests +one, though it is curious.” + +“Tell me,” Miss Eve said, “for whose weal do you purpose all that +slaughter and upheaval—for the world’s?” + +“For my own,” he said: “the weal of the world is in the management of +the Genius-of-the-world, Who ceaselessly sees to it. I personally am +not concerned in it.” + +“Then,” replied Miss Eve, “that is what I mean by ‘vulgar’ and ‘not +Christian.’” + +“One idea or two?” he asked. + +“No, one.” + +Lepsius sat slowly aside on the bed, puzzling to understand her mind; +and he said that he should have called Japan a far less ‘vulgar’ land +than England, to which Miss Eve replied that if Japan was really the +less vulgar, that could only signify that Japan was the more Christian. + +“Clearly, then,” said Lepsius, “‘Christian’ bears in your mind some +meaning of which I am not yet aware, since Japan does not pretend to +be Christian. I will see one day in the month following the Exhibition +just what Christianity is; but, as I knew that religions have all so +far been infant fancies, and as the religion of Europe is so slightly +in the minds of the peoples whom I mean to govern, I have never given +myself the pains to investigate it. And you do not say for what reason +I ought to cease from my schemes because they are ‘vulgar’ and ‘not +Christian.’ Vulgar they are, since I am a man, and man is a temporary +and trumpery little race, ingrained, whatsoever it attempts, with +vulgarity. But put yourself, beloved, in my place: what can I find to +do with my life? I am sequestered in the world; and it has occurred +to me that that would entertain me to make a world-state. True, I +might have turned my life to the delights of research, with the idea +of laying the foundations of knowledge in the world: it is, however, +such a work! since I should have to begin quite at the beginning, and I +shirked it. You may have no idea what a mess your little knowledge or +‘science,’ as you say, is in! Without foundation, top-heavy, like the +education of a child who has been made to learn the Babylonish Talmud +by rote, but can write not one word of his own tongue. The so-called +‘scientists’ know the stars of the night, and talk in millions of +millions; but as to the elements of knowledge, as to, say, the nature +of gravitation, and what is the ground-reason why their candle-grease +dribbles downward instead of bounding skyward, or why it is that the +atoms in a twig or anything cling together, though when one breaks the +twig, and then again puts the broken ends together, the atoms won’t +any longer cling, they possess no more notion than the chimpanzee. +Knowledge without foundation; vague, then, foggy, gappy: so that one +may say, man knows nothing, and of that little which he knows he is +but subconscious, hardly at all conscious. However, when these schemes +of mine which you have called ‘vulgar’ are accomplished, I mean to +turn almost the whole vigour of the world toward research and the +gaining of some little ground-knowledge of the nature of things: for +undoubtedly the want of this knowledge is what is now chiefly unwell +with our species. But I mustn’t say to you, beloved, that men’s good is +my aim, my only aim being to bustle and bluff a little as the governor +of a globe in space.” + +“But if a million men are killed by it?” Miss Eve remarked. + +“Dear, it will not matter,” Lepsius replied. + +“Will it matter if you are killed?” + +“It will to you, to no one else, since everyone dislikes me.” + +“But _one_ will clamour and cry out, you think? One will bleat and beat +the breast?” + +“Dear, it will not happen; I am so easily the king of men.” + +“Better, may be, if it did.... No, it is all awfully low, Lepsius, I +say, even lower than Cæsar, as low as Napoleon, and proves how many +a thousand miles divide you from me and from men: for far at fault, +I can see, is what you said just now that Christ’s religion is but +‘slightly in the mind’ of the crowd! Deeply the world has breathed of +its atmosphere, yes, and the murderer Burke, guillotined in the week +gone, deep in its stream was immersed, everywhere save at his heel. +One sees that, when one hears _you_ speak. Do you know those words of +Julian as to that Jew workman, ‘thou hast conquered, O Galilean’?—so +scarcely true then, how greatly true now! You who can see, don’t you +notice how pity prevails like the flood, and how charity roars like an +ocean? Christs on the ’bus, at the ball, martyrs that saunter in clubs? +Firemen, nurses, the Red Cross; the blind boy pampered and spoiled; +the sweater and swindler inwardly worked with a qualm for the world’s +weal; the moon on her throne still ruling, seducing the rudeness which +roars in the tides with her mild smile, still by the touch of a Robe +virtue disbursed through the world; and with that hem of his vesture +encrimsoned, treading the wine-press of history, the white Christ +travels, or, riding his triumph, rides on the foal of an ass over +dominions and thrones. When you said, Lepsius, that self-sacrifice is +silly——” + +But here Lepsius stopped her with the whisper, “someone is coming!” on +which the lips of Miss Eve, going at once quite sheet-white, breathed, +“God! it must be my sister! Lepsius! go!” + +“Why should I?” Lepsius said. + +“Lepsius!”—she was beside herself—“would you compromise me? Lepsius? +For ever? Would you?” for she herself could now catch the sound of +something, a door moving open in an outer room. + +“If I go,” Lepsius whispered, “may I come every night?” + +“Every——” Even in that storm of her eagerness for his going Miss Eve +paused; but she breathed, “Yes, every night—the key!” + +In an instant the key was handed her, and he out of the outer window: +on which she, too, in some seconds was down, was across the bed and at +the outer window, all her breath breathing down to him fifteen feet +below, “Every night! But I shan’t ever be here!” + +She could just catch his ejaculation of “Wretch!” and as she snatched +her fiddle, dashed herself into the chair at the casement, and arranged +her drapery, soft footfalls came on the carpet, the elder sister +breathing, “Eve! not in bed. Oh, Eve!” + +“Dear,” said Miss Eve with languor, “I couldn’t get to sleep; I was +playing the fiddle....” + +“Well, I knew it.... I had a feeling that you were not asleep, so I got +up and came to you, and here you are. Poor Evie! Cast your care upon +God, will you, Eve?... But playing at this hour! And—where’s the bow?” + +“I put the bow over there.... Oh, Ruth, put your hand on my brow, +I have a headache,” upon which, her head now lying back on the +chair-back, she shut down her eyelids, and Miss Ruth, stooping, held +her hand over the brow of trouble, groaning now and again a little in +her soul, her cheek pressed against Miss Eve’s cheek, till presently +she breathed, “That better now?” + +“Yes, sweet, that’s sweet,” Miss Eve breathed.... “Sweet, Lepsius was +here.” + +“Eve, here?” + +And now, under the compulsion of that touch upon her brow, Miss Eve +breathed out the whole story. + +The sandals of Lepsius, meanwhile, were speeding away, till they +arrived at his phaeton awaiting him beneath trees at Viroflay by the +forest of Meudon, where, throwing himself in, under the setting moon he +went tearing by way of Sèvres, Boulogne, Passy, to the palace. There, +at the top of a stair, he was awaited by a man in robes of the Orient +with a scraggy grey beard, hollow cheeks, and a nose mostly nostrils +which gaped, who, with ever a wagging and nodding of his head, stood +gossiping and gassing to Shan Healy: his name, Nundcumar. And these +two, Shan Healy and Nundcumar, when Lepsius had mounted the stair, +hastened without speech after their master’s speed. + +It was when they three were in the midst of a corridor whose two rows +of cressets seemed to meet at its remoter end, that Lepsius suddenly +peered ahead, stopped, and murmured very low in Urdu to Nundcumar, +“Anyone new in the palace to-day?” + +Perhaps a second lapsed before Nundcumar answered, “One: a person who +can spangle silk-muslin with gold of Dacca for the women-folk.” + +“Tell! Man or woman?” + +“It was a woman. She——” + +“Name.” + +“I cannot at this moment remember her——” + +“Tell! European?” + +“Yes. She——” + +Lepsius walked on; but after some steps, without stopping, went slower, +and now beckoning Nundcumar to him, said low, “_You_ walk before.” + +Nundcumar’s eyes opened with some apprehension as he began to walk on +ahead, and immediately Lepsius brought forth from the bag of his shirt +a species of pigmy weapon which one fired off by pressure upon a button. + +The walls here had hangings of tinsel at intervals, between these being +daubs on the walls themselves by Hindoo artists in hues as warmly +gaudy to the eye as water flooded with the sun’s after-glow. And it +was when Nundcumar, having reached the middle of the corridor, was at +the extremity of a hanging, that on a sudden he cast up his arms, all +shivering, with shrieks which pierced the ear, vitriol eating now that +doughy nose-tip, streaming down his beard. Meantime, Lepsius had swung +forth by the elbow a woman who had been hidden behind the hanging, +and in the quickest demisemiquavers fired two pairs of bullets, one +into her right wrist, one into the left, one into her right foot, one +into the left. Then during a few seconds he peered with a curiosity +of disgust into the disfigurement of the squealing Hindoo, and was +gone, throwing behind him to Shan Healy, who was kneeling over Jeanne +Auvache, the order, “Call in the police.” + +He then made his way to the place where he slept: an apartment as broad +as the palace in that part, resembling a barn, but possessing no walls +on three of its faces, only processions of columns of marble which bore +up three architraves. Within this chamber a hound—a mastiff all but as +large as Lepsius himself—was pacing about; and when Lepsius had well +bolted four doors, had again loaded his weapon, had placed it on some +straw strewn over one angle of the plain of floor, had let his gaze +muse some moments upon the moon going down within a couch of clouds +which she flushed, and now had thrown himself down upon the bed of +straw, the hound moved to lie down by his side, and both soon dozed. + + + + + CHAPTER XII. + + THE WEDDING-PLACE. + + +The day of the opening of the Exhibition was coming near, so was the +day of the nuptials of Miss Eve and Monsieur de Courcy, which had first +been fixed for the 23rd of July, and then, by the nerves and eagerness +of the bride’s groom and friends, fixed for the 5th; and now orders +for the _gâteau de noce_ and other articles had already gone out, and +already the lady and her guardians were at Grönland, a seat of the +Comtesse de Pichegru-Picard near to Orléans, where it was arranged that +the marriage should take place. + +In these circumstances Shan Healy observed truly to the Hindoo +Nundcumar, “There be things brewing in his brain, as you’ll see before +too long—at work like six whirlwinds! And there’s a little smile +about’n somehow, and a something somewhere in his eye that spells +pestilence to somebody, I haven’t a doubt.” + +Healy was seated in the evening dusk by the Hindoo’s side, who, still +luxuriating in bed with his nose sore in cotton-wools, lay silent +awhile, but then lifting himself to hug his meagre knees, said with +that wagging of his head, “Let him run, let him go along; but one day +the whirlpools of destiny will decapitulate his head.” + +“Oh, you go to hell,” Healy muttered; “learn to speak Christian English +first, and then turn prophet.” + +The Hindoo’s loose tongue, in these weeks unusually quiet, was anew +silent, his silences as well as his speech filled with that movement +of his head which was as continuous as the neck-movement of Chinese +playthings, and as full of meaning and meditation; and presently he +observed, “And when he is done for, whirled up and filibustered for all +he is worth, I know who will be the doer of it.” + +“Who’s that, then?” Healy demanded, and the Hindoo’s bony little face +became animated a moment as he made answer, “The woman who threw the +vitriol in my face!” + +“Oh, she,” said the other, “safe enough in chokey for four years +anyway—‘_travaux forcés_’ they d’ name it here; and serves her jolly +well right, too.” + +Nundcumar, with his eyes shut and a head that wagged, said, “If she +stops there!” + +“Who’s to get her out?” demanded Healy aggressively. + +“I—do not know,” remarked the Oriental innocently, with opening palms. + +“Look here, you’re a nice one to be speaking in this kind of way,” +Healy suddenly said; “appears to me as if you’d like to see it done!” + +“Me?” said Nundcumar; “na, na, not me, my sonnies. What! me? Why, what +was I when he ascended me out of the gutter? A dog, a hungry wretch in +rags, just ready for the hangman to garrot by the throat”—he rushed his +forefinger across his scraggy throat—“and now, what has he made of me? +A king with slaves to ceremony my bathing, and everybody bowing himself +down to make me the how-d’-you-do. And why this? Because he liked while +at his work to listen with one ear to Nundcumar retailing wholesale +his anecdotes of past doings, times, histories, befallings, happenings +and epochs, and to hear Nundcumar speak his ingenious English; he +wanted me for his gas-bag, his gabbling ape! and he gave me garments of +shawl-goat wool, and dancing-girls of Persia with gold bells on their +ankles to play the kitar before my godhood, all because he couldn’t do +without his Nundcumar’s tongue. Na, na, not me. And then he made the +villain woman vituperate her vitriol upon the nose and mouth of his +good old hound-dog.” + +“Serves you right,” observed Healy: “what earthly right had you to +admit the woman into the palace without proper inquiries? And who was +to have the vitriol in the chops, you or he, I should like to know?” + +“He might have chosen _you_ to have it,” the Oriental quietly replied, +throwing an underlook at Healy, upon which Healy chuckled within +himself, saying, “Ey, but he didn’t choose, you see!” + +“No,” said the Hindoo, “he chose his Nundcumar instead. But never mind, +it’s nothing, this. Only that’s bad, Healy, my friend, when the evil +eye is thrown upon a man, for there’s not a god sitting on his throne +of gold can escape——” + +“And who’s thrown this evil eye upon him?” + +“That woman—that villain woman.” + +“Safe, thank God, under lock and key.” + +“May be; safe, thank God, under lock and key, may be: but did I never +tell and expostulate you the history and anecdote of the time and epoch +when I and my brother were in the service of the Maharajah of——” + +“Oh, I’m ill of your lies,” said the other; “you never had a brother, +nor he nor you never were in the service of any Maharajah in this +world. So help me God, I never heard tell of a nigger the like of +you: other men lie with a view to deceiving people, but you lie like +a lying-machine, just because you needs must, without the least bit +expecting that anybody will be believing you.” + +“Do they believe _you_?” the Hindoo demanded; “may be I know one that +doesn’t, since he has had every step of yours spied, vigilised, and +super-inspected ever since his sire has been over.” + +At this Healy, eyeing the floor, heaved a sigh, and then getting up +from his seat, said with the dignity of grief, “Well, you are right +there, no doubt,” and walked out. + +At that hour Lepsius himself, in an apartment without walls on a lower +floor, was speaking with Mr. E. Reader Meade, who reposed on a couch +at his ease, handing a moustache that rolled down like a weir, while +Lepsius himself, in a sudeyree and trousers of nankeen, stood close +to a telephone hung on one of the columns. In the midst a punkah, +somehow worked, fanned the face; a fountain which span showered whirls +of spray round flowers and ferns; two girls a good way off in corners +continually caused their typewriters to prattle, peering nigh their +work in the dusk; while here and there other species of machines +competed in making their workings heard. + +“Well,” Mr. Reader Meade was saying in English, “their scheme of +getting hold of your person, of course, seems to me, too, a bit +absurd—and you say you knew of it?” + +“Well?” said Lepsius to someone at the telephone, throwing immediately +to Meade the reply, “Yes, I knew,” and to the telephone-speaker the +words, “Where, then, is Monsieur le Duc de Rey-Drouilhet at present?” +and to Meade again, “Go on.” + +“I’ll wait,” said Meade. + +“I listen,” said Lepsius. + +“Let us take it, then,” said Meade, “that you will scarcely fail to +elude that plot: for that’s the sick spot of your Frenchman, he lacks +humour, is so pre-occupied with _ideas_, that he lacks nice adjustment +to facts, often fails to measure his new man or thing, and so comes a +cropper in practice——” + +“Precisely,” said Lepsius, “you are very shrewd—as usual. Say then,” he +added to his telephone-speaker, “that I can receive Monsieur le Duc de +Rey-Drouilhet for seven minutes.” + +“The castle to which you are to be inveigled,” said Meade, “is called +Château Egmond, on the Brittany coast, a league from St. Brieuc, +and fourteen from your own Serapis. It is the property of Madame la +Comtesse de Pichegru-Picard, has been leased from her by the League, +I hear, and de Courcy, it is said, means to make it his residence +immediately after his marriage, which takes place at Grönland, near +Orléans, on the 5th—or am I giving you all stale news?” + +“I knew,” Lepsius said, as he now flew through the room to drop some +words at the ear of one of the girls, who in turn eagerly spurted out; +and now, returning, he said to Meade, seating himself on the floor with +clasped knees, “Only I don’t quite understand by what means they hope +to get me to go to this Château Egmond.” + +“I am not too sure,” said the other, “but Saïd Pasha, who is always +at the bottom of the _dessous de la politique_, asked me at the +Palais-Bourbon last night to tell you that Nuncio _ad interim_ Montijo +will be of the company at the château, and as you are believed to be +eager to gain the Church-party, this may be intended to motive you to +accept their invitation. Then also Marshal Rémy will be there, and +your right hand, Schuré.” + +Lepsius was up, speeding off to peer into a little machine hitched +on to the telephone which fretted and roared in fits, saying as he +ran, “But do they imagine that one cannot negotiate with Rémy, Schuré +and Montijo without going down to Brittany? It is conspiracy of—let +us say of Bismarcks, all born on the first of April!” at which word +“Bismarcks” he chuckled maliciously within himself. + +“But a conspiracy having this peril,” remarked Meade, “that Isabeau +Thiéry seems to be more or less in it.” + +“Oh, Thiéry is a shadow,” said Lepsius, throwing himself flat on a +table, his hands under his head; “his characteristic is that he does +not exist.” + +“I should rather say,” said Meade, “that his characteristic is that he +is the half-brother of Fanny Schuré, who is the wife of Schuré, who is +the engineer-in-chief of the moon-machine.” + +“And that matters in your judgment, I see,” said Lepsius. + +“Much in my judgment,” the other answered very impressively; “you +don’t, I think, know the Thiérys well; they are one of those French +families who regard each of their members as something between a god, a +genius, and a pet-dog to be pampered; and Isabeau Thiéry in particular, +with his three volumes of Victor Hugo verse, is to Fanny dear no less +than Hermes Trismegistus. I tell you so, Lepsius. He is a ghost, you +say, and I say ditto; but his influence with this grande dame of a +Fanny must be great enough: if he is against you, Fanny is against +you. And you won’t undervalue this woman’s sway? A bit Brantômesque in +tone as the girl may be, with her ambition to say things worthy of +Esther Guimont, if not of Ninon de l’Enclos, she has quite earnestly +this further ambition, to revive the _alcove_, and, by pulling the +wires in the political drama, to be called a Chateauroux or a Genlis. +As to Schuré himself, you know him: _au fond_ he is a viveur living in +the _odor di femina_; his guts is his God, and his ‘fafemme’[C] is his +Devil. If she tempts, he attempts; she says go, and he goeth. And I say +that, if Isabeau Thiéry goes against you, then, through Fanny, Schuré +would agree to yield to the immense pressure of your enemies to tamper +with the moon-construction; and if there’s the smallest failure as to +the moon—ah! well, you know the consequence of that.” + +[C] Wifie. + +“You are always very shrewd,” said Lepsius, lying on his back with shut +eyes, “and but for your judgment I should surely miscarry in everything +that I attempt. All this that you say is quite true, and I have always +intended to bribe Isabeau Thiéry at the right moment.” + +“With money? Isabeau Thiéry?” + +“Why the surprise?” + +The Englishman got his limbs together, and sitting now on his +couch-edge, stared, saying, “You cannot do that, you know.... Bribe any +of them, the brokers, popes, emperors; but you cannot bribe a poet, +man! Don’t you know that for a fact, Lepsius? Frankly, you occasionally +bring your friends’ admiration of your brain to some sudden cropper...! +You, too, having that French fixity of idea and lack of humour, knowing +the human clock so minutely in everything, except just its divine +trick, its ‘eccentricity,’ as mechanicians say. You couldn’t bribe +Thiéry!” + +“Abundantly, I meant,” observed Lepsius. + +“But that’s worse! If you send him five hundred francs, there’s just +the millionth fraction of a chance that it might influence him, since +he is so jolly poor; but if you send him five millions, don’t you know, +really, what will happen? He’ll throw up the melodramatic right-hand +that crumples the cheque, cry ‘Cato!’ and rush off to Sister Fanny to +crush you. It’s the ‘eccentricity’ in the earth’s yearly journey: you +count ill if you leave it out.” + +At this Lepsius, springing up, looked at the other in the way of one +who is struck by what has been said, and he had begun to say, “What +grounds, now, have you——” when a negro, coming in between two of the +columns, announced, “Monsieur le Duc de Rey-Drouilhet,” and now Meade +said, “Well, I’ll be away,” adding, “you can bribe _him_, Lepsius.” + +“And all of you,” thought Lepsius within himself with a somewhat sullen +eye askance on his friend. + +The friendly Englishman and Lepsius, looking rather like cow and +calf together, now exchanged a hand-shake, and in soon stepped the +aged little duke, diffusing smells of perfumery, showing a youthful +streak of teeth which shook, to seat himself finically on the couch +which Meade had left, while anew Lepsius flew hither and thither, for +some time paying no heed to the fop’s presence, who meantime secretly +touched his teeth, lips, cheeks, and sucked a cachou; till at last +Lepsius, casting a look at one of a quartette of clocks, cheque-book in +hand, dashed to sit by his side, remarking, “Six minutes and a half, +Monsieur le Duc, and my admirable friend: tell.” + +“Why, it was you who sent for me,” the duke said, tittering in his +fluttering and fussy manner, “it is you, Monsieur Lepsius, whose rôle +it is to tell!” + +To this Lepsius made no answer, but stamping a cheque with a number of +francs, furiously wrote the duke’s name on it, and now threw the cheque +askew to the duke’s knees, without looking at him; upon which the duke +sprang up somewhat pallid under his rouge, muttering in a protesting +manner, “No, Monsieur Lepsius—your manner—I cannot accept—you forget, +monsieur——” + +Lepsius groaned. “We are such old cronies! And surely time is ever a +thing of some value. Can you _not_ see it? Tell, tell.” + +“I am aware that your time is valuable——” + +“Yes, of course: tell.” + +“But——” + +“No, tell.” + +“But are there to be no preliminaries? No pourparlers? You have handed +me a cheque, monsieur—I know not for what amount, since positively I +decline to inspect it——” + +“Twenty thousand, that being the first of several, the others to be +written out as you proceed in amounts proportioned to the worth of your +words.” + +“The figures will be big in that event!” + +“They shall be; you know that I am immense in generosity.” + +“But it is a bribe!—if you consider it. I was never, however, to be +bribed! You forget, monsieur, that I bear a name which I never have, +nor ever shall, stain by any real meanness; nor, if I have accepted +money of you in the past——” + +“It was not a bribe, it was a gratuity; a meanness, but not a ‘real’ +meanness, because of your secret ardour for my person and service. I +know it all, nor should ever dream of insulting that name you bear with +a ‘real’ bribe: tell.” + +“Well, provided we do thoroughly understand each other’s tone, monsieur +...” the duke now said, sitting down anew with a twitching up of +his trousers’ knees, “though in the present instance I absolutely +do not feel that I could touch your cheque with honour, since, +really, if you consider it, monsieur, it is a betrayal of comrades, +this, in which I am engaged—you cannot get rid of the fact by any +sophistry!—it—is—a—betrayal; nothing less!” + +“Not a betrayal, only an exposure,” said Lepsius drearily, “nor need +you actually touch the cheque,” and picking it up, he put it into the +peer’s pocket. + +“Well, say an ‘exposure,’ since everything, after all, depends on +the tone of an act, and everything is right that is done by the +right-minded.... At any rate, let me tell you, monsieur, that you stand +in a situation of even the extremist danger!” + +“I know; and Isabeau Thiéry is in it.” + +“Why, yes.” + +“Tell—deeply?” + +“Deeply enough, although not whole-heartedly, I know. Moreover, he +hasn’t a sou, so can at any moment be opened to you by the golden key.” + +“And Dr. Lepsius?” + +“He also ... I am in the dark, by the way, as to whether the doctor is +a relative of yours, although the question is being asked——” + +“No relative. But that man is actually in the inside of the inner plot +to kidnap and imprison me? Yes?” + +“Why, yes. He has attended each of the recent councils in the house of +Monseigneur Piscari, has even made suggestions as to the means of your +capture.” + +The left cheek of Lepsius went ashen a second or two, and all at once +he was up to fly with an eye on fire to a speaking-tube some distance +off, through which, when he had whistled, he murmured low, “33, you?” + +The answer was, “Yes.” + +“Telephone to P.,” said Lepsius, “asking if all is ready on his side, +in which case let him now wire to B13 to burn within an hour.” At the +same time, without looking round, he cried out to the duke, “You see +the amount is as I stated it, Monsieur le Duc!” for the duke was taking +the chance to scrutinise his cheque narrowly in the twilight. + +“I will see to it,” was the answer of the speaking-tube to Lepsius, who +then sped back to the duke, saying, “Two minutes more, monsieur; tell +details.” + +The old fop laid one forefinger on the other, and with much animation +of manner gave the details. Lepsius was to be got to Château Egmond, +a league from St. Brieuc, by means of an accumulation of inducements, +the chief being that Schuré, the engineer, without speaking with whom +it was assumed that Lepsius could not exist a week, would be present: +for Schuré, though not of the conspiracy—at all events not formally, +so far—had, however, promised to be of the house-party for two or +three days; and it was proposed that Schuré should fall more or less +indisposed while there through unwholesomeness in his wine for, at +any rate, eight or nine days, until Lepsius should be impelled to hie +to his bedside. Then Lepsius was to be shut up in the château some +days, until he could be taken to the bastille on the Ile de Bas, named +Château Labîme, which, too, the League had got on lease; and it was +moreover hoped to reduce Lepsius to penury by seizing a minute key +which Lepsius was believed to carry continually on his body. + +Lepsius threw a new cheque when this had been said, saying, “Their +names,” on which the duke, taking a leaf of paper out of his pocket, +and speaking now eagerly with a mean secrecy of voice, galloped out +a string of names, “Thiéry you know, Dr. Lepsius you know, and, of +course, Sauriau, de Courcy, Leflô, Piscari, General-of-Brigade Rabot, +Grand-Almoner Persigny; then there is Maspéro and Gustave Ghéon; +the big bresseur d’affaires Brückner, Aly of gas, and Huguette of +electricity; Captain Pertius; Pichot of Justice and Public Worship; +Léonce Pettit; Director of Fine Arts Rémy-Rehaut; and Maître Sorel—with +some provincials.” + +“Their names,” said Lepsius, smiling a little, toying under his vest +with that half a coin whose sister-half he had sent to Miss Eve Vickery +two years previously. + +“The provincials,” said the duke, “are obscure rich persons, not worth +your resentment, monsieur; there is a Monsieur Louis Jammes of Lyons, +a chocolate-maker, then a Monsieur Flammarion of Tours, a Monsieur +Brisson of Rouen—who, by the way, is booked to go to the conference at +Château Egmond.” + +“I do not know these people,” remarked Lepsius with no little alertness +of thought in his eyes which stirred fleetly from side to side like +sheet-lightning. He then asked if the provincials had attended the +Paris conferences, to which the other replied that they had not, being +but “associates” by correspondence with Sauriau, their secretary. + +Lepsius stamped yet a cheque, saying, “Make it your work to-morrow, +Monsieur le Duc, to discover whether this Monsieur Brisson of Rouen, +who is to go to the Egmond conference, is known by sight to any of +the Paris conspirators, and you become affluent for six months, as +already you are for three,” in saying which he threw the new cheque to +the duke, and dashed away to peer steadily at the picture of a château +colouring itself as by miracle in one of the electric machines. The +duke’s arm had half started out for a hand-shake of farewell, but drew +back without it; and now, after waiting some time, at last with a +raising of the shoulders in a shrug which lingered long, he first with +a grimace murmured to the four winds, “Is the interview, then, at an +end?” and now, doing a very exquisite bow to Lepsius’ back, withdrew +with bows. + +As he departed, Lepsius threw half a look at one of four clocks, their +staring faces of a largeness so exaggerated that they concealed, each +of them, four of the columns’ mass, and afflicted the air with the +click of their tick-tack; and with one tap of impatience on a chair he +went muttering, “Come, Sauriau.” + +Some seconds afterwards the name of the Abbé Sauriau was called. + +“Admit him!” called Lepsius in reply, at the same time darting behind a +screen, whence in scarce more than forty seconds he came out “dressed” +in clothes made for quickness, without any buttons about them, and a +second before the abbé came in had caught up, and was casting his eye +over, a page of a book of the abbé’s just published. + +“Monsieur l’Abbé Sauriau,” he murmured, shaking hands, “I was at this +moment deep in _Hellenic Idylls_.... But what are you, then, Monsieur +l’Abbé Sauriau. A re-incarnation of Plato? For surely, only a Greek +could so utterly know the soul of Greece!” + +Monsieur l’Abbé Sauriau had shy eyelids. “I am glad.... Ah! you have +seen _Hellenic Idylls_.” + +“Seen and devoured ... and what charm! How airy! What daintiness of +manner! Oh, truly, those gross fingers of the Abbé Sauriau know how to +engrave with a fairy’s grace.” + +“Why, this is well,” said the abbé; “have you, by chance—finished the +book?” + +“Not quite, yet, monsieur: I am now at the myth of Leda.” + +“It is the end that is the best,” breathed the abbé with downbent lids. + +“Let us sit here, monsieur, and speak about it,” and now he led to +the couch a spirit so bludgeoned and kidnapped by the scoop of this +typhoon of flattery, that Lepsius might possibly then and there have +made the abbé his slave for ever. This, may be, was actually his aim: +for the Abbé Sauriau, owing to his amiable personality, his learning, +and his well-deserved celebrity through the whole world of letters, +was an individual of no slight influence in the under-currents of the +life of the Paris of his time, both within and without the sound of +the Palais-Bourbon bell; and not only was his brother, Louis Sauriau, +a general-of-division, but the engineer Schuré himself was believed to +be deeply under the influence of the abbé’s fascination. This being +so, Lepsius, in his gross way, continued with a smile of amusement to +eulogise to the skies the volume of which he had perused only one page, +nor found any praise too gross for the poet to gulp down, while the +poet eyed his right red sock which continually shook up, and struck the +crossed leg with his glove. Unfortunately, Lepsius never knew more than +forty-nine of the fifty parts of man, and as for man’s vanity, he was +himself so exempt from any iota of it—his tone being that of a broker, +wholly pre-occupied with the facts of things—that he little recognised +to what a degree vanity, in its government of the soul, may famish +such grosser passions as avarice. Hence, not content with praising the +abbé’s book, he went on to mention his intention of buying an immense +number of copies, and at once was aware of change in the abbé’s air, +for at once the abbé was offended, reflecting within himself, “It is a +bribe; and since he has a desire to bribe, _perhaps_ what he has said +as to the worth of the ‘Idylls’ is just humbug with a purpose?” and his +bush began to burn. + +Lepsius, who did not much care, leapt up just then to answer the +telephone, and before he came back to the abbé peered into the machine +in which a château was slowly painting its shape on a pane of paper: +upon which his visitor called to him, “What a fuss of mechanism you +have squalling in this hall!” + +“Come, I’ll let you see them,” said Lepsius in a humour of devilry, to +humiliate the spirit that he had lately praised; and he led the priest +from little machine to little machine, teaching him something of the +meaning of each—things of steel acting in the manner of rational and +ingenious creatures—into which those bushy eyes of the Abbé Sauriau +peered near-sightedly, and though he uttered hardly a word, from +time to time a “humph!” would start from him. When, however, they +came to the one where the château was coming out in colours, Lepsius +nonchalantly said, “This one you could not comprehend, however much I +explained it,” and dropped a handkerchief on it. + +In this manner, half by carelessness, half in malice, he made for +himself many enemies, by contempt; and in the abbé’s eyes came a flame. + +“However, to come to details, monsieur,” he said as he sat down +anew.... “I have bound myself to sound you in advance on behalf of +Monseigneur Piscari, who met me last night in the Salle des Pas Perdus, +as to whether you would be likely to feel inclined to make one of a +party, mainly political, to meet in the country in a fortnight’s time.” + +Lepsius span round to the abbé, saying, “I wonder?... Whereabouts?” + +“The name is Château Egmond——” + +“I didn’t know that the prelate had a palace of that name.” + +“He has lately taken it on a——” + +“Where is it?” + +“In Brittany, not twenty leagues from your own Palace Serapis, and a +league from——” + +“Ah, too far. Time, Monsieur l’Abbé,” and off Lepsius dashed anew to +the machine of the château-picture, snatched the handkerchief from +it, peered, and now beheld midget people rushing about it, and the +château at four places wrapt in flames; upon which he flew back to +the abbé, who was observing, “Well, certainly, it is a long way off, +but then everywhere is near to Dædalus; moreover, everybody will be +there—Schuré, Montijo—many charming dames——” + +“Ah! Who, for instance?” + +“Madame Schuré for one,” replied the abbé with a flash of the eye. + +“Unfortunately, monsieur,” remarked Lepsius very rashly, “I can’t be +expected to make love to a _rat d’opéra_ like Fanny Schuré when it is +well known that I am already in love, and with a sovereign lady. If, +now, you had informed me that the Comtesse de Pichegru-Picard and her +charming relatives would be there, that to a great extent would have +abolished the distance.” + +The abbé sat up at this, staring like one who is struck by a new +idea, then muttered with some spite, “I was wondering if that could +be managed, just to please you. It seems, however, to be out of the +question, since one of those relatives of the countess is to be married +on the 5th to Monsieur de Courcy at Grönland, in the centre.” + +“And Monsieur de Courcy has not asked me to be a guest!” crowed Lepsius +with gross sarcasm, adding, “Forgive me—forty seconds,” and anew he +flew to the machine of the château-picture, a “living” picture, in +which could be seen the leaping of flames that now surrounded all the +place, and crowds rushing all about, and fire-engines spouting out +waters in the night, all such mites as are the images which walk tiny +in the eye of an ox. Lepsius gazed at it through a magnifying-glass, +and when in a group of eight moving down a terrace in disarray from the +house of flame he could make out the faces and shapes of the Misses +Vickery, back he rushed to the abbé, saying, “That, then, must be my +answer, Monsieur l’Abbé, to Monseigneur Piscari, with my thanks; nor +will anything earthly alter my decision—unless, perhaps, it be some +temptation in the shape of the eternal feminine.... You see, Monsieur +l’Abbé, I become dissipated in mind like the rest, and oh, believe me, +it is a relaxing thing to live among men.... What’s the time?” + +The abbé stood smartly up at the hint, and, as always after being +with Lepsius, hobbled away brisker than he came, braced in spirit and +pricked to be a man of the same height and stride as that model that +he yet disliked; and with that baggy skin of his brow twitching with +cogitation, gazing at the ground, he went quick of gait, galvanic-young +again, making sounds with his great stick, down to a carriage, where +he gave an address in the Rue Jean Gougeon. + +It was the home of the Count de Courcy. The count, however, was out, +but might be found, the abbé was told, at the Ministère, or else at a +house in the Rue du Faubourg St. Honoré. + +To the Ministère drove the abbé; no de Courcy was there; so thence +he drove to the Faubourg, where the Comte de Courcy rose from dinner +to go to him at the head of a stair, and there the abbé said, with +a scantness of breath, “I have been chasing you—am fresh from the +individual whom—that is, from the young Lepsius, and shall be surprised +from his mood at present if anything which we can devise will get him +to step into the Egmond trap.... Would you believe? he is love-struck +with _Hellenic Idylls_; it appears, my friend, that the young man +dreams of it at night!” + +“_C’est vrai?_” said Monsieur de Courcy (i.e., “By Jove,” touched with +irony). + +“Yes, you will find him turning author before long in order to vie with +us others! But, believe me, monsieur, he is destined to discover that +it needs a deeper brain to create a true and poetical book than to +imagine machines of steel.” + +“As Phœbus beats Hephæstus; but—you see—I am being awaited——” + +“Yes, forgive me—only to tell you that it will be most difficult, as +I can already see, to get him to go to Egmond, unless—may I express +myself? it is delicate....” + +“I even pray you to do so.” + +“Unless Madame de Pichegru-Picard and her—nieces are of the party, in +which event he will agree——” + +The Comte de Courcy’s neck stiffened. “My friend, the suggestion would +be ingenious, if it were not impossible.” + +“I see that,” breathed the Abbé Sauriau, “especially its ingeniousness.” + +“To me its impossibility is no less obvious, monsieur,” said Monsieur +de Courcy. + +But now steps were mounting the stair, and a man bearing a document +and a telegram came up to give them to the count, who, having read the +telegram, grew pale, and every second paler, and presently observed to +the abbé, “My God! Grönland house burned to the ground!” + +“Burned!” exclaimed the abbé; “why, accept my sym—— But where, then, +monsieur, will your wedding take place?” + +“It may now _have_ to be at Egmond,” the count said slowly, with +meditation dwelling in his underlook. + +“Why, then, this may be a Providence in view of the individual whom we +have in our mind!” cried out the Abbé Sauriau. + +“We will see how Heaven works it,” the count observed, now suddenly +holding out his hand to bid _bon soir_. + + + + + CHAPTER XIII. + + AT EGMOND. + + +Within ten days everything was settled: the Comtesse de +Pichegru-Picard, burnt out of Château Grönland, came to an arrangement +with Monseigneur Piscari (who had already got from her the lease of +Egmond in Brittany on behalf of the League), to go down there for the +wedding of Miss Eve without interfering with the prelate’s house-party; +and Lepsius, for his part, on hearing now that Miss Eve would be at +Egmond, agreed to go down, too, to meet the other political intriguers. + +By the last day of June all the party were there, except a Monsieur +Brisson of Rouen, and Lepsius, who had arranged to come on the 2nd of +July for two days, the date of the wedding remaining fixed for the 5th +of July. + +As for this Monsieur Brisson, who lived not far from Brittany, why he +did not appear was not very clear, for though he had been written to by +Monseigneur Piscari, he had sent no reply. + +However, about an hour after dinner on the 1st of July, Monsieur +Brisson was announced just as a council which met to consider last +details as to Lepsius had sat round a table in a chamber in a tower. +The door was already locked when the card of Monsieur Brisson was +brought, who, on being admitted, was seen to be the embodiment of the +_bourgeois_ in glasses, one of his legs bowed and booted with a sole +inches deep, on which he steeply limped. As he was unknown by sight to +the others, he had to produce some of his notes from the League before +being given leave to assume his seat; and the conference then began +in a gloaming still unlighted by any lamp, present being Monsieur de +Courcy, the Abbé Sauriau, Monsieur Leflô, the Duc de Rey-Drouilhet; the +bent back of Dr. Lepsius sat sideways to the table, dumb; Monseigneur +Piscari, a lank and stark inquisitor, presided; Isabeau Thiéry was +absent; but there were some ten more, men of wit or weight. + +The difficulty was to get Lepsius into Egmond without scandal: for +if he once came in as a guest, and was seen, his disappearance would +naturally excite comment and unrest; but after much discussion one +Captain Pertius, a spark of the _beau sabreur_ type, who had five +_pioupious_ (privates) at command in the château, proposed that as +Lepsius came, his capture should take place outside a summer-house in a +south avenue, and Lepsius there kept till everybody was abed; and this +was carried. + +But now Monsieur Brisson of Rouen, with a rasping throat of the +_nouveau riche_, at last gave a croak, saying, “It will be a great risk +to keep him idling there for hours in that summer-house.” + +And now, too, for the first time, Dr. Lepsius breathed a weary word, “I +agree.” + +However, their votes were overborne on the authority of Pertius, who, +having thoroughly examined the summer-house, had found it strong and +sound. + +Then, till it was almost dark, many details were discussed, many +proposals put to the vote, everybody knew what his own duty was to be, +and the council was now about to be broken up when anew the throat of +Monsieur Brisson of Rouen was croaking, “But I feel uneasy.... _Who_ +chose the chamber in which Lepsius is to be kept?” + +“It was Captain Pertius,” said Monseigneur Piscari. + +“And you have all inspected it?” asked Monsieur Brisson. + +“Most of us,” remarked Monsieur de Courcy; “it is a good, good place, +monsieur.” + +“It may be good,” said Monsieur Brisson, “but is it the best? Oh, +believe me, messieurs, in everything there is a bad, a good, a better, +and a best, the best ever more grievous than the rest, but so greatly +better than the better.” + +“True,” murmured the Abbé Sauriau: “_is_ it the best?” + +“I propose that we search the château in a body first,” suggested +Monsieur Brisson. + +“I agree,” murmured Dr. Lepsius, and after some talk this was done. +Monsieur le Duc de Rey-Drouilhet took with alacrity a blue candle from +a candelabrum of ormolu, and with it led the procession, first up the +tower’s stair to the chamber prepared for the prisoner’s sojourn, and +then down and through almost the whole building, down to the vaults, up +other towers, through crowds of halls and corridors, now with sounding +footsteps, now with muffled, everyone chattering with some other in +sets nonchalantly, Monsieur de Courcy and Monseigneur with their heads +together before, and, behind, the Abbé Sauriau with the good bonhomme +Brisson, whose right side, as along he stumped, stooped at every step +of his right bow-leg. He was giving the abbé a reason why he must +needs leave Egmond that very evening, having come merely to attend the +committee-meeting, when for the twentieth time he stopped to stare at a +painting; and since he had already explained that he was then buying, +he was left to pursue his hobby by the abbé, who did not observe that +behind each of the pictures that Monsieur Brisson peered at he left a +certain little object resembling a night-light; and behind one picture +he left a vial and his handkerchief. + +After all, it was found that the tower-chamber which Captain Pertius +had chosen was the most eligible; and, everything at last arranged, the +committee separated to come among the ladies. + +At this hour, with the moon in the clouds, and groups of ladies and +their gallants moving round the grounds, and sounds of music in the +_salons_ and galleries, Egmond looked a stately and picturesque place. +The Misses Vickery were strolling with Monsieur de Courcy along the +brink of an oblong of water that stretched far-slumbering in boscage +from the bottom of the terraces to a mosque of marble at its far end, +when there came up to them Dr. Lepsius to take part in their walk; but +presently a messenger from Monseigneur Piscari came to call Monsieur de +Courcy, who with his lips just touched a finger-tip of his future-one +with a great parade of grace, and went away; soon after which Miss +Ruth, too, was called by another party of promenaders—a Schuré group, +Fanny Schuré burnished in coloured fires like mother-of-pearl, with +whom Miss Ruth stopped to gossip, the innocent with the guilty, Dr. +Lepsius and Miss Eve meantime going on to the mosque. + +And there, sitting alone in a casement, they two spoke some time in low +tones, while more and more the moon imbued the night with the mood of +her beauty and her quietude, and communed sleepily the lily-leaves of +the pool. It was when they were getting up to go away that Dr. Lepsius +said, “But I mustn’t trouble a bride with an old man’s sorrows—in three +days’ time you will be a bride, and I rejoice in your choice, which I +think a wise one.” + +Miss Eve had risen, seeming in her white evening-dress, with whitest +cheeks, even weird in that sheen, and she replied with a chuckle, “It +was prophesied me that I should not be a bride for some time to come!” + +“By my son?... Well, he has no little might in this lower world,” the +old man murmured, “but have no fear, he is by no means omnipotent, and, +as I have hinted, he is at this moment in extreme peril for his own +skin.” + +Sharply at this, with a haughty heave-up of her chin, Miss Eve asked, +“Who could touch him?” + +“Ah! it is dubious,” the old man said musingly, bending over his oak +stick; “still—I believe—by many eyes, and by many hands, and by the +agreement of many wits and wills of men and God, it shall be achieved!” +and now he struck the stick sharply upon the _perron_ of steps down +which they were now passing to the path, Miss Eve laughing a little +with a meaning that was hardly understood, saying, “And his father, if +I am rightly informed, is with his enemies?” + +“That is so,” said Dr. Lepsius with an inclination of his head, whereat +she stopped walking to face him, asking, “With your eyes quite open, +Dr. Lepsius?” + +“Well, I hope so,” the doctor answered. + +“You have thought, then, of what will certainly happen, if—after—I am +married on Friday?” + +Dr. Lepsius glanced up at her, having noted her tones go shaky, and on +beholding her face bony with agitation, said with some astonishment, +“No, what will happen?” + +“Your son will _kill_ himself.” + +And while the doctor with an eye of scare stared at her, she with a +certain roistering and hilarity added, “And since royalty should have +servants rejoicing to join in its voyages, _two_ you may see, if not +more, go to attend on his ghost.” + +“Two—I do not quite——” the doctor stammered. + +“I meant my poor father for one,” she sighed, continuing to walk. + +But since her “kill himself” the doctor had but absently heard what was +said, and “kill himself!” he cried suddenly, crimson with anger, “let +him! let him! I will go to his funeral! For I’d sooner follow him to +the tomb——” + +“Now, Dr. Lepsius, a father ought not to be down on a son,” Miss Eve +said, “though I know that he has been beastly to you.” + +At this tears gushed to the old man’s eyes. “Oh, it isn’t that, dear +Eve—it isn’t the bitter ingratitude, the bruise, the gash in here: but +how shall I not be against him in what he undoubtedly aims to bring +about, when the mouth of every gash which he gives our race will shout +out in rage against me? You see, do you not——?” + +But now the old man, touched on the shoulder, looked about, and saw +Monsieur Leflô, who had come down an _allée_ in the leafage as a +messenger of the Count de Courcy, seeking the doctor; so the doctor +went off with Monsieur Leflô, while Miss Eve, spying Miss Ruth in a +group ahead, moved to go to her; but suddenly became aware of a stump, +stump, of one limping in an _allée_, and in some seconds was accosted +with a murmur of the word, “Mademoiselle.” + +It was Monsieur Brisson of Rouen. + +And when Miss Eve looked at him without seeming to know him, he, though +undoubtedly agitated, said with a coarse chuckle that she and he had +been shoulder to shoulder at the Quai d’Orsay that evening when a +particular individual had dared to take a liberty with her lips: at +which thing Miss Eve stood like a queen who stands astonished at so +much insolence under the sun, then silently went on her way. + +But this Monsieur Brisson was not one who could be banished with a +chin; he followed to breathe near Miss Eve’s ear, “I wish to speak to +you of him, he may be here to-morrow, and I have a message....” + +“_Here?_” + +“Let us go down that _allée_.” + +She hesitated, and he glanced like lightning at his watch. “Only three +minutes to be with you—come.” + +Now she walked with him into the dark of the _allée_, looking down at +the ground, like one magnetised, drawn with a cord. + +“For what reason will he be here?” she breathed. + +“On business.” + +“You are to inform your master, monsieur,” she then said in a haughty +manner, “if Monsieur Lepsius happens to be your master, that I know him +to be in much danger, so that he should have a care.” + +“Oh, trust in him!” said Monsieur Brisson imploringly, stumping along +by her side with dippings of his right shoulder; “do you imagine that, +loving you, he can miscarry? He feels that the breath of his love is +vibrant enough by itself to heave mountains out of their beds, and bear +them as bubbles to the sea. Nor is his danger so much; it will be +nothing, if you will consent to fly with me this instant.” + +“This instant?” she whispered furtively: “to fly? Away? With you?... +But what, then, am I? A beast, with a beast’s soul? Evil to the core? +Reckless, furious, moon-struck? Is there no Christ for me on high, I +wonder? No right? No wrong?” + +“If you came,” said her companion with some bitterness, though touched +by her trouble, “it would save much time; and you would come, if +hypocrisy was not your breath and bread,” upon which she rushed into an +irritation not to be restrained, crying, “That is monstrously untrue +and unkind! I mean well!” + +“Well,” he said, “I did not expect you to come with me, for I know you. +But you have to show me the windows of your bed-chamber.” + +Now she stopped walking, standing tall, gaunt, her heart galloping up +in her gorge, asking, “Why my windows?” + +“Oh, nothing: just show,” he muttered; and when she had stared a little +while at him, she paced on in silence. + +Presently she went down another _allée_ which led them to the terraces +at the front and south of the house, and hence went on to the brink +of a lake which laved with its waters a platform of marble at the +château-back. Not a soul was thereabouts, no sound, only the spirit of +the moon brooding upon the face of the lake and down the solitude of +avenues of yews; and here immediately Monsieur Brisson stooped to whip +off that thick-soled boot of his, whipped off his frock-coat, wrapped +his two boots, with his top-hat, his spectacles, and his waist-coat in +the coat, and cast all into the water, where they sank; in doing which +very hurriedly, he asked, “Well, which are your windows?” + +She, with her back toward the house and toward him, her brow bent +downward, replied to the ground in a proud guttural that trembled, “I +am sure I do not know why such a question should be asked of me.... My +windows happen to be those two on the first floor immediately over the +balcony-end near by the statue—since it seems that the knowledge is +desired.” + +The plash of the coat with its weight sounded now in the lake, and +“Monsieur Brisson,” that bow of his right leg quite gone, stood now +limber on his bare feet, his elbow suddenly about Miss Eve’s waist: +whereat she, feeling his lips stealing near her face, went fearfully +pale; nearer, and she shivered with sickness; nearer, and she sucked in +her breath as at luscious juice and shooting pangs, sighed “By heaven,” +and had his lips. + +He put her to lie on a bench of marble by the waterside, whence she +through her half-shut eyelids watched him run away with a deer’s ease +up an avenue of the park, and disappear in darkness. + +Some way down that avenue was a summer-house in a bower, and there the +runner stopped his career some seconds to conceal beneath the seat +some sheets of paper, a piece of pencil, and two tiny tools of steel +like keys, then shot on. And it was there that at 6 p.m. the next day, +as Lepsius was driving from St. Brieuc station to the château in a +carriage of Monseigneur Piscari, the carriage stopped, and was at once +surrounded by a crowd of _pioupious_ and others. When he demanded of +them what was the matter, they answered that he was a captive, and +Captain Pertius, who was with them, then proceeded, with a perfectly +ashen visage and hands which shivered like leaves, to search each nook +of Lepsius’ costume, even his shoes, searching especially for a certain +little key, which, however, was not to be found. Lepsius’ trunk was +sent on to the house, and everything taken from him. “Oh, let one have +his watch,” he protested, but without effect. However, by an act one +might say infinite in deftness, he contrived as he was being hustled +down out of the carriage to snatch behind him the watch of Shan Healy +who attended him, and was not seen. He was then imprisoned in the +summer-house with a sentry of some ten mounted upon him; and in there, +having taken the paper and pencil from their place of concealment +beneath the seat, he threw himself, face down, on the seat, and in a +brown light began to draw diagrams. + +On the day commencing to dim, he took out his collar-stud, touched it, +and it shed round his sheets an electric sheen. + +Soon after two in the morning he was removed to the room fitted out for +him in the tower; the same hour the members of the League being met in +council to congratulate each other and resolve on the next measures. + +But early the next day their joys suffered much alloy through the +turning up at the château of a certain Monsieur Brisson of Rouen, who +had no resemblance to that first Monsieur Brisson of the conference! +this new Brisson having the story to tell that, on going to a bogus +business interview in Rouen, he had been imprisoned in a room by a gang +of men, his papers grabbed, and he made to write a letter to his family +saying that he was safe, and in Amiens on affairs. Only after four and +forty hours had he been set free. So now the problem arose—_who_ could +have been that Brisson-of-the-limp who had attended the conference? + +Lepsius, however, was there in the tower, safe enough, which was +everything.... It was an eight-cornered chamber where he was, arranged +with some little luxury, and large; but he suffered, being unaccustomed +to be between walls, and here was but one window, with bars in it, +while, as to the lush carpet, the eye of his consciousness was at every +moment open to the microbic hordes that must be at barracks within it, +nor could he bathe with ease, he who bathed frequently each day, nor +was the food such as was usual with him, being much too luscious. + +This was first served to him by a person who had a beard and appeared +to be a man, but was not so loosely costumed but that certain curves +of the womanly could be observed in him—or her. On seeing her when she +bore in his breakfast, Lepsius moaned, and flew to the other extremity +of the chamber, where he held a chair-back, ready if she attacked; but +when she had put down the breakfast without glancing at him, and had +gone, his brow reddened, and having begged one of four guards for pen +and ink, he wrote to Monseigneur Piscari, asking whether monseigneur +was privy to the fact that one Jeanne Auvache, a convict with a mania, +who had been aided by his, Lepsius’, enemies, to evade prison, had been +sent to attend upon him. He received no answer to this, but the woman +ceased to appear at meals. + +It was a superb day—the third of July—and by springing up to his little +window-ledge, and hanging on, as he twice did, he could see groups of +elegant folk moving remotely over the terraces or gossiping in retreats +of greenery, appearing pigmy far down below all that half-globe of sky +and tabernacle-hall of cloud, like spirits idling in paradise; and +once he was able to make out the face of Mr. Vickery, and once knew +Miss Ruth, but of that form that his eyes sought saw no sign. + +Most of the day he spent on his face on his table over plans of +buildings and machines, which he concealed when the meals came in +at one o’clock and at seven in the evening—for it was not suspected +that he had any pencil and paper; and when the meals—none of which he +touched—had been cleared away, he bathed at a basin of delf ware that +stood on a tripod of iron under the window. This window looked toward +the west, though the tower itself formed the south-east corner of +the château, which looked eastward. So as the afternoon’s heat waxed +fierce in the room, he drew down his blind of dimity, and now continued +his labour cooler in a cave of shade which the blind’s maroon colour +imbrued with a blush of ruby; but when the sun had well declined, he +anew drew up the blind, sprang up to the window, and, like a monkey +peering keenly into something never previously seen among its trees, +clung on long to peer into the scene of the sunset—a sight rather high +and tragic really for the heart of a man, the sun going down all among +bars of crimson, the brow of God drooped, disgloried, His arms far +outcast in gory crucifixion. Then the door opened and the meal of the +evening came in, to be immediately taken away untasted; and now with +feet of impatience, frowning, the prisoner paced about the chamber. No +light was brought him when it became dark, for his jailers, having an +apprehension that he might turn objects to unusual uses, took care that +as few objects as might be should be in the chamber, not even a knife +having been taken him with the meals. But by the aid of an electric +stud, he spent some time in prying into the make of the lock of the +door, though he had already looked into it two nights before, after the +conference, in his rôle of “Monsieur Brisson”: which done, near eight +o’clock, shunning the bed with its bed-clothes, he chose a part of the +floor where no carpet was, cast a look at Shan Healy’s watch, and went +to sleep there. + +He knew (having been at the council), that at the hour of two he was to +be roused to go on board a brig, bound for the bastille on the Ile de +Bas; so he had commanded Shan Healy to conceal himself in the château +and come to the prison-door exactly at 1.50, so as to help Lepsius to +carry a load which Lepsius conceived that he would have need to carry. +Ten minutes, then, before that 1.50, at a moment when preparations were +being made in the château below to take him to the ship, Lepsius awoke +to act. He was still at the lock of the door with the two little tools +that he had hidden in the summer-house before his capture, when howls +of “Help! help!” broke out without the door, and he was made aware that +Shan Healy must be engaged in a struggle with the greenhorn _pioupiou_ +on guard out there; but the _pioupiou’s_ howls were at once drowned in +the sound of a disturbance resembling the bursting of some tremendous +drum somewhere, which just then made the château to tremble through its +breadth and length; and before that roaring was well over, Shan, who +had felled the _pioupiou_ with the _pioupiou’s_ lantern, broke blithely +with the lantern-light into the room, the lock of whose door had at +that moment opened to the key of Lepsius. + +But the poor fellow’s blitheness had no long life. He did not enter the +chamber alone—at least, scarcely less closely than a shadow follows +did the feet of a female follow him in. No word had yet been uttered +between Shan Healy and Lepsius, and Lepsius was just going to call +out “Come!” (in a din now as dreadful as all the guns of Armageddon +mouthing, the house racking its frame to fragments, the ground quaking) +when he changed his “Come” into a shout of “Out with the light!” at +the same moment bolting to the other side of the chamber. But either +Healy did not hear, or stood in a condition of mind too flurried for +sprightly action (for he, too, had spied the woman as she had slammed +the door after her); at all events, nothing was done as to the light, +and Lepsius, as he pelted, moaned, the ogress after him, staring, +her hair cut close, ugly, ghostly, grim as the very grave. “Shoot!” +shrieked the fugitive to Healy, who, too, was in hot pursuit; but, even +assuming that Healy was able to hear in the blare of that tumult, he +must have perceived that he lacked the time to fire—unless, indeed, he +was quite wondrously quick—because at that moment the woman’s arm was +drawn back to throw her liquid; he saw it; did not see that by this +time Lepsius was safe, having a chair with which to hide his face; and +as the fluid was starting from the vial, wildly Healy flew between, +receiving the bath of vitriol all over his right cheek and throat. + +He could not help shrieking...! + +“Idiot!” hissed Lepsius, who, as he now darted away, caught a weapon +out of Shan’s pocket, sent with one glance backward and a nervous +gurgle of chuckling a bullet into the woman’s bosom, which, however, +chanced not to end her, and was out and away. + +Right through the howling hell of the house from east to west he had +now to hie: and fleet were his feet and alight his eye. Twice only he +stopped a moment, once when, in pelting up a stair, he met flying down +in a nightgown a girl whom with his lowered head he felled by butting +her, knowing that if she descended she would be butchered; and a second +time he stopped in a corridor to take the vial and handkerchief which +as “Monsieur Brisson” he had placed there behind a painting. No want +of light anywhere: for at various places the building was already in +flames, which flames, serving as flambeaux, reddened the chambers +where no flame burned; but as he spurted onward with his vial, the +flooring violently sprang beneath his feet, and he was thrown against +a wall, where he remained rather aghast some moments, until smoke in +his throat caused him to cough, and anew he flew, though at one point +forced to win his way with toil and patience over floorless joists. +And afresh every forty seconds or so all the house started at a sound +which opened its mouth to appal the heart and astound the darkness +with the message of its solemnity, after each of which deep-mouthed +sounds count one second’s pause and waiting, and now came downfalls +crackling, like the brittle outbreaks of arrays of rifles prattling: +for the bombs resembling night-lights that “Monsieur Brisson” had left +behind statues, etc., had been timed to fuse, not in a mass, but one +by one; and though he had so placed them in the below-stairs as not +much to imperil the lives of the château slumberers, they were many, +and were meant by him thoroughly to wreck the structure wherein men in +their vanity had ventured to hem him. Anon he was aware of fugitives, +single or in groups, staring, conscious of sin and of doomsday come: +the Duc de Rey-Drouilhet, all toothless now, his nightshirt aflaunt, +flying down a curving stair, calling out upon the rocks and hills to +cover him; then the stout Abbé Sauriau clambering over a mound of +débris, his trousers unbraced; then through the fumes that rolled all +round a courtyard Miss Ruth Vickery in a dressing-gown on a gallery, +dragging her father faster than he could go, Monsieur de Courcy, too, +with them, Lepsius himself then flying along a lower gallery on the +opposite side of the court; and as they were going west—to see to Miss +Eve, he guessed—and were well ahead of him, never did his feet so +fleetly speed. The delay of some seconds occasioned by the invasion +of his chamber by Jeanne Auvache had disturbed the course of events +as forecasted by him, and he had hardly burst into his darling’s +apartments and turned the outer key, when her father’s poundings were +sounding at the panels without. + +Erect on her bare soles in an alcove, robed in a bedroom-robe of lace, +a stone stone-still, her hair a rope plaited to a bow of ribbon at her +knees, Miss Eve stood, waiting, aware of his tumults, but beauteously +dead, as one who has interviewed the stare of Medusa; and all in a +tick, like a cat fawning, Lepsius was cast at her feet, kissing them, +pleading, “Dear, will you come with me?” + +Her friends were pressingly clamouring at the entrance; they screamed, +“_Eve!_” + +She took no notice of them, if she heard; as to Lepsius, she hurled up +her right hand to strike him dead, crying, “You brute!” + +“Oh, do—for us two—beloved——” + +“I bitterly hate and abhor the pair of us!” + +“But you will get us both killed——” + +“Thank God!” + +Now he started up, an arm about her. “I have to make you faint,” his +handkerchief at her face; and like fate she took it, did not fight, or +very slightly, resigned herself, smiled, sighed, closed her eyes ... +and in some moments, by means of a sheet, he had reached the platform +of marble thirty feet beneath, heard through the turmoil in his rear +the noise of guns booming before—a signal from his yacht in the +bay—leapt the balusters with his burden into the lake waters, waded, +swam a bit, obliquely north-westward, reached the lake’s bank, and +there among reeds and bulrushes sat down to breathe and rest, her brow +on his breast. + +Southward, a smoke that soared to the clouds was being poured +out steadily from the château, which ever throed inwardly with +loud-bursting noises and sounds of rumbling like poisoned bowels and +Etna boiling; and that plume of fume-and-fire slanted continually from +point to point of the compass, for a wind boisterously blew, drizzle +sprayed the face, and the moon, while suffusing the night wildly with +the whiteness of her light, was herself quite hidden away out of sight +in cloud. + +Lepsius was soon up and gone again with his load, knowing that pursuit +would not be slow: but it was a great labour; the country there is +rugged; Miss Eve, drugged, could not, or would not, keep on her feet; +Healy, with whose help the load would have been easy, moaned in his +agonies somewhere; and the bay lay nearly a league away. + +However, half-way to the shore he found waiting in a gorge where the +gloom was gross under crags the Hindoo Nundcumar, together with four +of his mariners, their eyes raised to the inflamed sky; nor was it +long before a little half-harbour snoring in sleep between the arms +of beetling crags, a brig’s green and crimson beams, a steam-yacht’s +three beams, lay before them, and near a little pier of stone the men +of two boats who lay on their oars for him, one a boat of his foes, +one his own; and flushing the vault of heaven, even here, a false dawn +flung far abroad from the château, and over the shore the breakers +making their snoring, Miss Eve’s feet bleeding, and streamlets of +drizzle-spray in haste on her face. + +They lodged her, still unconscious (as it seemed), among cushions, +and plied to the ship, which, lying with steam at a moment’s notice, +immediately steamed away, turning toward the west: and rushing +she went, urgently churning the sea—a long boat burnished with +Tobin-bronze, burning the eye like a strip of the sun; and as the dawn +worked and began gradually to overspread all the world of waters and +of coast, Lepsius, prying a port on the stern, spied like pearl the +pinnacles of Serapis. + + + + + CHAPTER XIV. + + AT SERAPIS. + + +Lepsius, to the amazement of men, remained at Serapis for weeks, to the +very eve of the Exhibition, though he quickly established a system of +posts and telephones with Monsieur Schuré and other men of importance: +as to which the Hindoo, Nundcumar, remarked to Shan Healy, “It is a +piece of slackness, this; once he would not have done this: but when +a woman comes in, great minds begin to go rotten, and look a little +ahead, my sonnies, and you will see their catastrophe head-over-heels.” + +It was then the turn of the Hindoo with his burned nose to drone by +the bedside of Healy; and Healy, who had conceived a fever from his +vitriol-dose, said with a moan, “Won’t she let him see her yet?” + +Nundcumar wagged his head meaningly-meaninglessly, going, “Not she: +true-blue British and A1, a queen of queens! keeps him dewrithing in +the deepest depths of hell! That morning when she landed, he thought +he had her, my sonnies; but, if he is artful, she is a bit artfuller +still: peeped through the rose-curtains of her palankeen, smiling +with him like any dancing-girl, gabbing and gossiping with him about +Serapis, and how he built it; then when she was in and saw Serapis, +and what it is, her nostrils spread a bit, her breath stops a bit; +but by the time he had got her into the west ivory seraglio, and gave +her to know that that was to be her special palace, she had come to +herself again, looking as compleased as Sir Punch himself, smiling +with him, and he with her, and she with him, all very fine and large; +so she halts before one of the bashi-bazouks guarding a hall, gaping +at his get-up, his thises and his thats, his whys and his wherefores, +makes him draw his sword to show her, all marquetry of little gems and +gold, his dagger, all marquetry of little seed-gems, a real pleasure, +delight and comfort to man’s ophthalmoscoptics; and, says she, ‘How +pretty, Lepsius!’ she says, drawing the dagger out of the guard’s paws; +‘oh, I mean to keep this; may I?’ So Mr. High and Mr. Mighty he looks +at her quick, then lowers his eyes, and at last he mutters, ‘Yes,’ +reluctantly. Then she begs him to go, as she has a migraine-ache, so he +hands her over to her ladies, and goes; and the moment he is gone she +squats to pen him a note: and what do you suppose was in it?” + +Shan Healy tossed for ease, moaning. “Anybody can easy enough guess out +what was in it; but how the deuce do _you_ know?” + +“I know and I know,” said the Hindoo with a moving head, “and what I do +not know is what man knoweth not, for that which is is shown unto me. +And in the note, word for word, she says, ‘Lepsius, I admit myself your +prisoner here in Serapis. You understand though, I think, knowing me +armed, that I instantly die if you venture to enter anew any part of my +palace; test me, I woo you, to see whether I mean it or not.—EVE.’ That +was her scribble, my sonnies, and the wording and reverbosity of her +constructing.” + +Healy opened and closed anew his sick eyes to reply, “_If_ it’s true.” + +“What, don’t you suppose I ever let slip something that’s true, for +form’s sake, in the hey-day and prime of life?” prated the utterly +senseless ape-tongue of the Hindoo that ambled blandly in a monotone +along, with the obscurest meanings anon, if meaning it had. + +“So he ain’t seen her since?” Healy asked. + +“He has seen her every day, though she little thinks it! for she is +artful, but he is artfuller still——” + +“Old gas-bag,” Healy moaned, “you said just now that _he_ is artful, +but _she_ is artfuller still.” + +“Both are artfuller than each one, my chum Healy,” Nundcumar said: +“_he_ is artfuller than she because he is of the guiley ones and artful +dodges, the beguilers and the wilers, and _she_ is artfuller than he +because she is a woman, and the guilt of womanhood is in the juice of +her gall-bladder. But he sees her when she little believes it: his eyes +have their peep-holes and their spy-places to weigh her and dwell upon +her when she’s wantoning on the water with her poet and her ladies, or +when she is walking under the arcade of the courtyard gazing at the +gauderies and the graces of her Persian and Delhi girls dancing with +their carcanets of pearl in the moonshine: for she grows every day +more luxuriatingous, which is the curse of Serapis for everyone who +enters it, from the lord of all to the low-cast coolie who polishes +the porphyries; and in these three weeks she has grown into a regular +begum-queen, true-blue old England as she is, and if he only waits a +bit, he will get and win her, be certain—that is, if she does not flirt +off abscond and run away first with the young poet Pershorez——” + +At this the sick man looked at Nundcumar to sigh, “Oh, you scandalous +tongue—if I only had the strength——” + +“Why, my friend Healy,” said Nundcumar, “have your ears not heard how +she pets her little Pershorez? Cannot stir without him near her! Feeds +him with sweetmeats, conserve of roses, orange-honey of Kauzeroon, and +all delights, almond-patés, and amusements! her eyes musing on his +eyes all an afternoon in that small hall of red andem-wood, while he +recites to her from Hafez and Ferdousi, sir-poets of Persia whom she +cannot understand a word, though she can well understand the face of +Pershorez, my sonnies, which is only made of cream of gazelle-milk +and rose-leaves fading, and his little figure more perfect in grace, +symmetry, curves, and very hungriness of perfecting than Thammuz, the +love-god that Syrian girls go thin for fancy of, and sigh for very +hungriness of delight, and die of. And that other one, the lord of +all, he knows, he knows, of this, because Barova, the little Arab +slave-maid, who is thin, faint and gaunt for love of lord Lepsius, +she pushed her way one night right into his private hall in the north +palace, and told out of her mistress, how the grossness of the sap +of womanly hungriness grows wanton in the arteries of her gall for +Pershorez; and first he could not grasp what the girl wished to say to +him, but then for very anguish of jealousy he cast back his head-piece +and laughed wild——” + +“Laughed for fun,” sighed Healy—“if any of it is true.” + +“For fun, may be, and may be not for fun,” the Hindoo said with a +moving head: “though not much fun in Serapis going on these days. Wait, +wait: for that’s bad, Healy, when the evil eye is cast upon a man, +and the villain woman with the vitriol is not yet dead, for first it +was poor old-boy Nundcumar on his oil-factory nose, and then it was +you, poor boy, and the third time it will be—another one of the ones. +That’s bad, that’s bad. And the seeds of disease spring and spread in +Serapis; he loses hours now in peeping and dreaming and brooding about +her—loose! looser every day; and when the woman comes in greatness +goes out and out, for the race of man would be a crowd of gods, but +the presence of woman relaxes his screw and corrupts his entrails. +Peeping, dreaming, like any Pershorez poet! and his Exhibition that +is all the talk coming so near! Several times he has passed hours +hanging about her: once stood guard disguised as a Mamaluke under that +cupola of enamels of her outer hall to see her pass close; and he has +fanned her face disguised as a slave-girl, where she sat listening +among her cushions to her Persian girls singing to the vina, with the +zels clashing aloud, and the kanoon-lutes making music and all sorts +of sounds, alarms, loudness and howdedo of melody; and he has come to +embalm her musk-baths, attended her bathing, painted her nails with +henna, and she with her weapon none the wiser——” + +The sick fellow whined at this, sighing, “Pity you’re quite so vile an +old liar, after all.” + +“Who—me?” said the Hindoo, a finger at his breast: “why, some of it +is true, my friend Healy, as the four and fourteen gospels! And how +about the letters that go between them, have you not heard of this? +For every day he writes her three-four times, and every morning that +dawns she writes him a line, though for two weeks she would not, but +when he raged, prayed, raved, consought and implored her with so much +squalling, pain, despair and foaming, she said at last that she would +write him one line every morning, giving him a puzzle-problem to solve, +since he is so witty, wise and witful in all wiles and witticisms, and +if ever once he failed wittily to answer her, he must agree to let her +go from her prison in Serapis to her parent, who is sick to death for +lack of her, though Sir Lepsius sends her daily the report that her +parent is in health and roarious spirits. So every morning that dawns +her note goes as regular as the milk-carts and the market-gardeners +all the way through from the west to the north of Serapis, wrapt in +satin in her poet’s hand; and one day the lady has written, ‘Lepsius, +tell me to-day if the spirits of men live ever and ever.—EVE’; and +one day she has written ‘Lepsius, write me to-day (with a why) which +wild-rose is sweeter and wilder: those all white on the weald, or those +which are washed as with shame.—EVE’; and one day she has written, +‘Lepsius, tell me to-day how the heavens and star-dust were formed +out of nothing.—EVE’; and he to her writes the most fantasticalest, +whimsiest, witticismest answers, replies and respondencies, as she has +shown them to her old Nundcumar when she sits listening with delight to +my tales, faries, frivols, and other lip-froth; and as to that of the +forming of the heavens and star-dust, he wrote her that, once upon a +time of the times, One Who Is, wishing to compose an oratorio of music, +brewed oceans of ink in a bowl of gold, and, holding in hand a pen of +gold, began to compose and throw off the notes of his oratorio; but +soon, when the beauty of the music stressed and throed in his soul, +so that he pressed well upon the pen, the pen splintered, and the ink +spattered, blotching with spots and splashes all the blackness of the +vault: so One Who Is roamed more remotely into the womb of gloom to +compose some more glorious oratorio. So they toy and coy, and bill and +coo together, my sonnies; but wait—let him go on: the seeds of disease +spring and spread in Serapis, say I; he gets slacker and laxer with +his idol-lady; wantonness and riot is growing among some of the scum +of the domestics; many of the men, and their commanders, too, are +grumbling with discontent because of regulatings and strictness; that +villain woman——” + +Here, however, the entrance of a sister-of-mercy, Healy’s nurse, whose +frown the Hindoo knew, interrupted and drove him out; immediately +whereupon Healy begged to be permitted to pen a note, and on gaining +the battle, wrote as follows: “Master Hanni, I beg to be forgiven for +writing to you, but as I do not much fancy now that I shall ever be +getting up out of this again, that’s why I take this liberty, which is +to say that I wish to God, Master Hanni, you would get that dog of a +Hindoo Nundcumar from being near about you, for he means you no good, +I doubt, and under the ridiculousness of a parrot this man hides ten +times the craftiness of a fox. Dear Master Hanni, you may not be aware +that thirteen years since Nundcumar was two years in Wormwood Scrubbs +Prison, near by London, for stealing two bicycles. And, Master Hanni, +that you may never cease to remember with any breath you breathe that +Jeanne Auvache remains alive is the dying prayer of yours till death, +Shan Healy. I’d give fifteen years, if I had fifteen days, to lay my +eyes on your face once again for one moment on this side, but that may +be a bit more than I can expect of you: and, if not, good-bye to you.” + +A little slave of Healy’s was at once sent out with this letter, which +two hours later reached the hand of Lepsius in the north-east regions +of Serapis, where he lay in a diwan-i-am, or hall of audience; and +his glance having lassoed in one swoop the significance of the note, +he threw it among other notes into an alcove of the throne in which +he lay, saying to a gentleman (a commissaire) who sat with him, “No, +Monsieur Hugonnet, you have my assurance: she is not in Serapis; she +perished in the collapse of Egmond.” + +“Not so, monsieur, I think,” said Monsieur Hugonnet, a big bureaucrat, +who ever struck the wind with his eye-glass in his fingers: “that +theory is no longer tenable, for it is now established that some shreds +of her body must have been found. Moreover, you do not forget the crew +of the brig’s boat who saw a lady carried into your boat?” + +“It was another lady,” replied Lepsius, smiling, “as ten days ago I +gave myself the pains to prove to Monsieur Leflô and Lord Rawlinson.” + +“Monsieur, I admit it,” the commissary replied: “you have conclusively +proved that Miss Vickery is made of air; this, nevertheless, seems a +matter in which frankness, reasonableness and right feeling might well +be invoked on both sides. Think, monsieur—the lady’s father lies half +dead of it; and the English Government, I give you my word, monsieur, +grows every day more earnest, more urgent——” at which Lepsius, jumping +up with a rather reddened brow, went walking about a hall all pillars +of marble, between which stretched screens of perforated marble and +filigrees of gold, screens low enough for one to overgaze, away below, +the crags of the Brittany coast, and, away beyond these, a streak of +sea, indigo corruscated with snow-glints under the sun’s glare. + +“_Let_ the English Government grow urgent,” Lepsius, returning to +Monsieur Hugonnet, suddenly said: “what then? What would you and it +have? Have I not allowed your troops to enter and ransack every crack +of Serapis? Have you found Miss Vickery? No. So, then, she is not +here? Nor is she made of air, monsieur, believe me, but of flesh and +blood, and her palms, if you palpate them, will be warmer to you than +the bark of the maple. So, why have you not found her? And how much +more of my time shall I have to lavish on this matter?” + +“Serapis is not so much a palace as a town——” the commissary commenced +to say. + +“Still, you have searched it throughout!” + +“Let us search it again, monsieur, for certainty’s sake!” + +“Again? And when?” + +“Say to-morrow, will you?” + +“Well, it is ridiculous; still——” + +“Scribble me a pass, monsieur!” + +Lepsius scribbled a pass for the following day, and the commissary went +away. + +As for Lepsius, he had no fear of the legal visit, since his reason +for giving Miss Eve her (west) palace was that in it were rooms so +curiously and astutely concealed, that no keenest wit could suspect +them; and on the previous visit of the police Miss Eve was easily +induced on some excuse to step, unsuspecting, into one of these. So +Lepsius smiled, as he once more stepped up to recline in his kind of +throne, little thinking that that commissary was more cunning than he +looked. + +He was about to sound for the following interview, but instead put out +his hand to Healy’s letter: did not, however, lift it; but, his hand on +it, reflected a little; then sprang up, and ran out, down the length of +three corridors, across a hanging gallery, guards making him salaam, +down a stair, along a lake, southwestward always, knowing his way +without fail, slaves and dignitaries, going on their various duties, +standing agape, saluting his tunic’s glare, his turban’s egrette of +heron’s feathers aburn with seed-pearl, and up a curved stairway to +a certain curtain: and Healy’s Ursuline nurse stood up amazed to see +him peer in, and wished to wake Healy, who lay breathing strangely in +sleep; but Lepsius restrained her. + +Lepsius stood about two minutes, looking down at that rash on the sick +brow, the bandages on the breached cheek; took up, looked at, smelled +two of the medicine bottles; took up and held the sick hand; and, +holding it, gazed out with a brow of trouble through a great window +which was hollowed out in Moorish ogives, out into a court where +the whiteness of a minaret in the midst of a lake was reflected far +down in the water, with zephyrs flirting along the water’s surface: +an afternoon in July in which all that Brittany country slumbrously +basked, and bumblebees, as air-boats trading, tromboned a moment, as +through steamboat throttles, their boom of music across the ear-drum +dreamily, and cruised to some other ear. Somehow Lepsius sighed. And +whispering the sister, “Tell him that I came,” he went away in haste. + +But he had hardly passed beyond the door’s hanging, when a French +functionary with a wild and white face, wringing his hands together, +raced to him with the hiss, “My God, monsieur, all is lost! Monsieur +Hugonnet has gained admission with a squad of gendarmes, and is now +searching Miss Vickery’s house!” + +Quickly Lepsius’ eyes stirred from side to side. What had happened +he saw: Hugonnet, aiming to take Lepsius by surprise (as he did!) +had adventured to present to the guards at the great gates the pass +intended for the morrow, and they had not noticed the date; nor was +there any possibility of inducing Miss Eve at a moment’s notice to +move into one of the secret rooms, nor any possibility of checking the +officers in their search, nor any possibility of keeping her a prisoner +in Serapis, if she was once seen, nor any possibility of living without +keeping her.... + +Lepsius flew.... + +Not toward the west palace, but back toward his own north, and not the +way he had come, but as the bird flies, one eye on the watch on his +palm, one on the way he went, once swinging over a wall, once swimming +an oval of water, trampling flower-beds, routing men, making one bound +of stairs, while the fowls of the air cried out their affright at his +flight; and now like whirlwind his fingers were scattering among masses +of trinkets and things in a certain mahogany, he groaning in his soul; +got what he wanted; and now was gone again, going straight as the bird +goes, west and south, swinging, swimming, bounding, and now at last was +in the south-west house. + +Standing within a doorway under a dome, he heard above-stairs the sound +of the troop; and stealing in a tick up sixty steps on the belly, his +wet streaming on the alabaster, he spied the troop, who, he saw with +spite, were just moving from one of his secret rooms, proving treachery +in Serapis. And on they went, Monsieur Hugonnet and ten gallants in +gaudy garments with swords, walking with a swagger between two white +walls with lines of doorways in them that seemed without any end, he +hiding behind, wriggling with eagerness as a tigress wriggles about to +spring, hearing now a sound as of the harp far off (which, however, the +gendarmes seemed not to hear), and aware now where Miss Eve was. So the +moment that the commissaire, examining a plan in his hand, went into a +doorway with his men, Lepsius sped on to slip ahead of them, but before +he could get to the door heard the sound of the searchers coming out +again, a glance having shown them that no one was in there: and he had +to shy into a side-corridor on the right. And now on a sudden the sound +of the strings of an instrument struck to the ears of the seekers, +too; they looked alive; “Come on!” cried the commissaire, and on they +stepped. Now Lepsius sped ten-footed to the right down the length of +his side-corridor, turned at its end down a second corridor, turned +left down a third, and in this last spurted through door-curtains +into a room, before ever the troop had attained the bottom of their +corridor—a room of monstrous circumference, domed with moresque-work in +gold, and, though looking a ghost of marble, cool, too, and balmy, its +circle of rose-curtains being all closed, embarring a grotto of umbrage +within, which was pregnant with fragrances of frankincense burning in +urns and cassolets. Two fountains wheeled about its centre, between +these in the wilderness of floor being one flush of colour and odour of +woman, cushions, stuffs, rugs, for snugly grouped there lay an oasis +of ladies making music, Miss Eve seated in their midst, cuddling a +gazelle which lay chewing the sugar of its cud with lids of indolence. +All at once she was up, tall! a weapon started out of her breast, yes, +and was brought down, and would have been driven to her heart, if the +feet of Lepsius had been by one whisp less fleet, or his eye less wise. +He had her in his arms, the ataghan-dagger cast far, she struggling +against a handkerchief which he held on her face, with stifled cries +of “Let me go! Lepsius, let me go!” He, however, clearly hearing now +the near-coming of the steps in the corridor, pressed heavily, had +her senseless, laid her down on the yatag (ground-bed) where she had +been sitting, and drew to her chin a coverlet over her. At that moment +the troop stood at the door, and, had the music not ceased on his +entrance, Lepsius, however speedy-handed, could not have succeeded; he +had counted, however, upon the music ceasing: and during the seconds +that the troop remained out there in a state of hesitation as to which +was the chamber of the music, his raging hands had her face brown with +some ulmin or umber-stain, had his turban bound about her brows, her +mouth, cheeks, submerged beneath a snow of beard. “Say ‘_sh-h-h_’ if +one enters,” he whispered, “fan her,” and he vanished. + +Some seconds later Monsieur Hugonnet and his troop rapped, came in, +inspected the group of Oriental maids, the poet (lone male among women) +with his lute, the gazelle, and the old Ulema, Imam or Cadi taking +siesta on the yatag in his turban, softly fanned by his girls. The +gendarmes cast glances at the group of girls—could hardly be got to +move on; but presently searched through the hall, and spent the rest of +the day in searching Serapis in vain. + +Nor did Monsieur Hugonnet go out as he came in. In passing down a stair +in the north palace, he and several of his men slipped down it, three +spraining their legs; in one place he got an electric stroke; and in +his going out of Serapis a grate gave way under him—a grate that had +sustained all his men—nor was it without difficulty that he was raised +up, half-drowned in filth, out of a drain. + +Thus ended the final attempt of the two Governments to find the +prisoner in Serapis. But no sooner did the Governments begin to give +up than her sister, Miss Ruth, said, “_I_ will find her”: and two +days after that failure of the police, late in the evening, Lepsius +received a request to admit Miss Vickery, for no one was admitted into +Serapis unless permitted; and he at once sent for her. + +“Alone?” said he, with his elbows laid on a table to stare at her paled +face upon which a lamp shone, she seated with her luggage (a hand-bag) +at her feet, a pretty sprig in her hat, for she liked little fineries +and vanities, provided they were very cheap. + +“Yes,” she replied to him, “quite alone.” + +“You have come to see—Serapis?” + +“Why, what a question—for Eve!” + +“If I had Eve, do you imagine that I should give her to you?” + +“I am even sure that you will, if I beg you.” + +“Beg me, and see.” + +“You admit, then, that you have her.... Tell me whether she is well!” + +“No, she is not in Serapis. I fancy I know where she might be traced, +but she is not in Serapis.” + +“Oh, fie, you tell lies; why, I have seen her here.” + +“You?” + +“Yes, three afternoons ago, in a dream. I hardly ever go to sleep in +the day-time, but somehow that afternoon about two sleep overpowered +me, and Eve lay before my feet. She lay asleep, and she was an old man +with a beard somehow, and yet she was Eve, and a goat with its forelegs +doubled underneath it fed by her feet, and it was here in Serapis, I +knew very well, in a room with a dome over it.” + +Lepsius, staring at her, remained dumb. + +“So you see,” she remarked with an underlook, “there are more kingdoms +than you have visited.” + +“Myriads more,” he mumbled. + +Now all of a sudden she brought down her fist masterfully upon the +table, bending forward. “Let me take her back to her poor papa!” +whereat he laughed with a sort of wrath, crying, “_I!_ I have her for +ever and ever!” + +“Have you married her, may I ask?” + +He, his gaze on the table, mumbled, “If I even go near her, she raises +a dagger to pierce her bosom.” + +“Good old Eve,” breathed Miss Ruth, staring in surprise; but added +immediately with veiled eyes, to soothe the agonies which she guessed, +“that is not because she loves anyone less, but because she loves God +more.” + +“You are an unintelligible family,” he remarked with half a shrug. + +“Oh, but well-meaning, I think, well-wishing,” she said. “Anyway, +if—since—she may not come with me, I will stay with her.” + +“No; if you stay, you stay a captive; and, if I allow you to, I thereby +avow that Eve is here.” + +“No one will know but my papa, who promises you, if you will let me be +with her, never to tell anyone.” + +“So, then,” asked Lepsius, “you imagine me sufficiently childish to +rely upon your father’s promise?” + +“You do not? Really? How curious! Well, _I_ undertake, then——” + +“Your undertaking is without weight. Moreover, you once before broke a +promise that you made me.” + +“When?” + +“At The Towers, as to betraying my presence to Dr. Lepsius....” + +“Oh, but if one meant well! Look, now, into one’s eyes....” + +She looked into his, and he into hers, which had water and all her +heart in them—ten seconds, twenty, thirty—until his dropped at her +purity, with a murmur of the word “sweet” on his lips. + +Then he said, “But you are all against me; you would be speaking +against me to Eve.” + +“Well, then, I will undertake never again to do that.” + +“That is not enough; I say no, unless you will undertake to woo her in +my favour.” + +“Now, how can I? Is she not affianced to——?” + +“How laughable!” shouted Lepsius: “she shrieks with laughter at the +mere thought of such a farce! De Courcy is a gnat, a limpet in a hag of +peat-water! And since you, meaning well, could break your promise made +to me, why may not Eve, meaning well, break her promise made to this +ape-man?” + +“Oh, I,” Miss Ruth replied with her touch of flippancy, “I’d crash +through a promise like piecrust any day, if I saw fit, for I think +that a Christian is set free from rules, and in the pure every crime +is pure. My sister, however, regards herself as more bound by laws and +modes, and as to departing from a promise once given, it has always +been her way, I know, to regard that as rather a ghastly business. But +suppose that somehow the fact of her espousal could be overcome, how +can I ever possibly cry back to your cause, knowing that you are not a +Christian?” + +Lepsius smiled. “If that be all, regard the knot of Gordium as cut: I +become a Christian this night.” + +“How will you—‘this night’?” + +“Isn’t there something about being plunged into holy water?” + +“To be plunged into holy water is hardly to be a Christian, I think.” + +“What, then, is?” + +“To wish well to the world, I think; to live to serve it; to stand +piously alert to suffer and die for it”—with down-turned lids she +uttered this, and, as he heard it, his brow twitched once; then +bringing his mouth down to the table, he mumbled, as it seemed, to +nobody, “A lady here to be led away west,” and as a guard in gauds +appeared, he remarked to Miss Ruth, “You will hardly be able to +persuade me that you are a thinker, you know; but I am persuaded that +you are in some way the sweetest of sisters and girls, and a prisoner +whom Serapis will not readily let go.” + +“Have I won, then? Am I about to see her?”—Miss Ruth bounded +upright—“oh, but you are pretty good, after all, and I shall never, +never forget you whenever I lift my eyes to the hills of God.... How is +she? How far is it? May I go now?” ... Lepsius was whispering to the +guard, who soon afterwards turned to Miss Ruth, and it was in quite +a gush of girlish flutter and flightiness of glee that she went with +her guide’s steps, inclined to prattle, crying anon, “Why, Serapis is +all like a white metropolis swimming on water!”—for all the lights of +Serapis had by this time been lit, and beamed star-wise far and near in +myriads, as it seemed—white, crimson, green—streaming on negro waters +that gleamed like steel, so that it all seemed of the drama of some +teeming dream. But when at last they came to the west-end, it was only +to be told that the lady of the place was away on the west lake with +her playmates; and making their way to this with haste and impatience +through alleys and courts, an increasing roar now sounding in their +ears, the pair of seekers stood on the lake’s shore and shouted. During +some moments, however, Miss Ruth screamed “Eve!” without result, +inasmuch as the gondola of gold-moresque in which Miss Eve rowed was +close under the gross roar of a cataract that rolled with a hoary +angriness, Niagara-like, over crags near a hundred feet deep at one +end of the parallelogram of water that made the lake—a lake surrounded +with towering house-walls and crags. But soon Miss Ruth was seen from +the boat, Miss Eve screamed, and before many moments the sisters were +breast to breast, uttering breathless syllables, broken with kisses. + +“But—let one look at you!”—and when Miss Eve exhibited herself, “Is +this Eve?” the other asked, for Miss Eve was in a garb all of flimsies +of the Orient as gaudy as rainbows—silk-muslins, gauzes—her ears gross +with ear-rings of coral-rock and gold, a kefie-cloth draping her face, +with her gazelle, her maids, her boy-poet wearing his embroidered +sandals and strings of little pearls.... + +“Well, this is Eve,” breathed Miss Ruth, musing upon the other with her +bambino eyes, a smile of happiness chronic on her lips; “and whatever +can that be on your nails?” + +“Henna.” + +“Eve!” + +Miss Eve snapped her thumb and finger gaily up in the air saying, “Oh, +well, never say die, and in Rome let’s row with the Romans; once I was +queen of the Greeks, hundreds of eras ago. Come, sweet, to see the +seraglio,” and thither they hurried. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +TO SHUNTER. + + +Lepsius, the Exhibition being now about to begin, should have been +in Paris, but was at Serapis: and that was a true word of the gossip +Nundcumar that woman works a relaxation in the screw of greatness, +and taints its vein. Paris was strange; and the weather there +“treacherous,” as they say. Frequently each day Lepsius was in +communication with Monsieur Fautras, his broker, and with Schuré, his +chief engineer. A rumour was abroad that the last of the Moon Debenture +Bills (asking the sanction of the Chamber to the issue of yet new +stock to the tune of a milliard and a half) would hardly be carried, +because of another rumour that the moon-structure itself was fated to +failure: an event that must ruin very many investors. So the croakers +and screamers arose and mouthed: the scheme, they screamed, was +never sound; down all at once one day from par to 97 fell the stock; +speeches breathing rage were everywhere being made, in the streets, on +’Change, in the Chamber; newspapers furious with froths of abuse—true +Paris-babies, created to live three days—saw the light, cried, and +died; pamphlets, pamphlets, flooded the cafés; Lepsius, men said, had +fled. + +During all which a kind of riot one afternoon (the seventh of July) +sprang up in Serapis itself. As the old Nundcumar told it with a +moving head to Miss Ruth Vickery at the bedside of Healy that evening, +“Sir Lepsius was at the telephone when Captain Bréhat broke into his +presence with a face like volcano-ashes mixed with fire-flashes, to +bring him the message news and betidings that some two hundred and +fifty of the private troops had broken loose, and had wrecked two of +the barrack-rooms. So Sir Lepsius finished his talk and chit-chat at +the telephone, and then, starting off with a malign light in his eyes, +though smiling ever his smile of the smiles, caught up a weapon of +queer and dark appearances, and ran away to a square in the north-east, +where the crew of them stood—all picturesque rascals of Spahis, mixed +with Turcos, Mamalukes, Zouaves, Uhlans, Don Cossacks, some of them on +horse-back, but most on foot in their half-dress, all under arms, so +that the heart, missie, paused under the bosom-bone to see it through. +Three-four of them said ‘Bravo,’ on beholding Sir Lepsius come, but +the brows of the rest only scowled blackly at him, and one big Spahi +spurred out to him with his grievance-list. Never a word breathed +Sir Lepsius from first to last, but as the grievance-list was going +to be presented, all at once he sprang like a flea of the fleas to +the ringleader’s horse-back—a great Hungarian horse, all rings and +piebalds—and he began to stick the horse with his penknife like a pig, +here and there, till the creature in its raging, plunging, prancing, +and very arrogance of arrogances dashed down the ringleader on the +ground. Then Sir Lepsius shot his gun-shot up in the clouds, and +down upon the crowd of them a shower of shot dropped back broadcast +and hard-hitting; at the same moment he aimed the gun at them, drove +the Hungarian mare at a gallop round about, pressing them, and on a +sudden they were gone in a rout with bowed backs, as a crowd rushes +out of a shower suddenly. Then he came again to the north palace, and +later in the afternoon got the news that all was well, as the troops +had resumed their duties. But wait, wait, it is not done with yet——” +He stopped, Miss Ruth rising to wipe the lips of the dying man in +silence.... + +But it was, in truth, not “done with”: for the very next forenoon the +troops anew broke into mutiny, and Lepsius was told that one part of +the soldiers’ quarters was being burnt. He had already observed the +redness of it in the sky, spent twenty seconds in dire reflecting, and +then sped away, intending this time to be terrible. It was a morning +of storm that spat dribble and brine, the strip of sea seen from the +higher parts of Serapis had an appearance of wrath, a league to the +east a brigantine had been wrecked in the night, the sky was all grey +and hurried like a current, and all pools of water darted darkling +continuously under the swoops and pursuits of the squalls. Lepsius +was making headway in the teeth of it eastward to the scene of the +_émeute_, when, to his amazement, a maid came pelting to meet and +present him a line scribbled on the fly-leaf of a Bible, “Pray, sir, +do not come to the men. It will be well.—RUTH VICKERY.” Nevertheless, +he ran on; and presently, peering through a wicket, saw Miss Ruth with +the mutineers in a court, moving to and fro before them, her hair blown +loose over an old cloak of faded blue that enfolded her, flapping, +on her head a forage-cap of the men, she haranguing them loudly in +French against the sounding of the gale. Lepsius stood too far off to +know what was being said, but saw Miss Ruth laughing anon, the troop +laughing also, soon became aware of a rumour of voices raving “Bravo!” +then of Miss Ruth pointing at the flame, as if enjoining the troop +to hasten to help in its suppression, then saw them press pell-mell +through a gate and go, taking her in the current of their haste. + +In truth, Miss Ruth was at present no more a prisoner in Serapis, but +roamed whithersoever she chose in and out of it, visiting the Breton +peasants round about, the sick in Serapis, and corresponding whenever +she chose with her parent, to whom she wrote that the angel of the Lord +had broken the bars of her prison. On the whole, she was so well known, +and with so much respect, to everyone in Serapis, that it may have been +beyond the wit of Lepsius, had he willed it, to keep her strictly a +prisoner. At any rate, the _émeute_ thus suppressed did not recur; and +Lepsius pondered this anon. + +Little enough time had he for pondering, however. That forenoon of +wet and wind the slump in moon-stock continued from 97 to 95, and +at nine that night a crowd that had waited for hours outside the +Palais-Bourbon in the storm, unharnessed the horses from Monsieur de +Courcy’s brougham, and brought the Minister home with hurrahs, because +his thunder at the Debenture Bill had resulted in its overthrow. + +“Thrice on the eighth,” writes Saïd Pasha in his Notes, “I raced across +to the Rue de la Chausée d’Antin, on each occasion getting wetted to +the skin, in order to talk with Lepsius through Monsieur Schuré’s +private telephone. On each occasion I had to wait, since others were +before me. The first time I saw Colonel Doumic, Monsieur Leflô and +Cardinal Dampmartin talking together, standing in a corner of the +drawing-room; and two hours later when I returned they still stood +in the same place, talking. The house, in fact, was much frequented +throughout the day, people coming, lingering, going, and coming +again; but no sign of either host or hostess. The Abbé Sauriau, who +for some time sat alone on a sofa with his legs crossed, perusing +with quite evident surprise and delight an old book of his own—it +was his _Pindar_—told me that Monsieur Schuré ‘was supposed’ to be +at home, but abed, in a condition of alcoholism; while as to Madame, +Colonel Doumic, who had a cold in the head, and trumpeted persistently +through the nose, told me that the lady was spending three days with +her sister at Meudon. To Monsieur Favre, the Procurator-General, +and to me the colonel also made this remark, ‘My friends, let the +politicians do their worst, but what can un _tas de pékins_ do to the +individual in question when the name of Lepsius still raises a cheer +in each company of _pioupious_ through France?’ I wished that I could +share in his confidence, but to me who knew the under-currents and +each secret wire which each of the puppets obeyed, it appeared quite +beyond the ingenuity of a Nestor and a Richelieu in one to save the +situation. ‘Nothing has happened!’ exclaimed General Le Goffic, the +Prefect’s aide-de-camp, to me at Bignon’s near eight in the evening, +‘and yet what a revolution in public opinion within these two little +weeks!’ ‘_Mon ami_,’ added the old Orléaniste, who was a descendant +of the mulatto Ducs de Dornis, and still at seventy a gallant figure, +‘the individual in question thought to inaugurate an empire on the +race-course at Longchamp, as the Prince de Condé is said to have +begun the battle of Lérida to the cry-cry of a dozen violins: but the +fantastic soon ceases to amuse at a cost of three milliards. As to “La +Lune,” since the word means also the part of the human person on which +children are spanked, it was always certain that this fact, by itself, +would doom the scheme to failure. At the actual moment, what hope +remains, monsieur? since we know that when Belleville, St. Antoine +and Ménilmontant have pricked the ear, _le plis est pris_, and Heaven +itself is helpless. In passing down the Boulevard Majenta just now, I +encountered a crowd bounding south, to the Palais-Bourbon, no doubt, +singing “Conspuez Leps_ie_, conspuez Leps_ie_, conspuez”—the grave +sound on the last syllable of “Leps_ie_”—a truly gross and terrible +growl.’ + +“Well, at half after eight a messenger hastened to tell me that Isabeau +Thiéry was about to mount the tribune, and to the Palais-Bourbon Pierre +Huré and I set off in a fiacre, seeing on the way streams of people +who were speeding to join the crowd that loitered round the House, +without seeming to heed the showers and the noise of the wind. Having +reasons of my own for not desiring to be seen within the Chambre des +Députés itself, I strolled in the Salle des Pas Perdus, while Thiéry, +ever the _enfant terrible_ of the Députés, rolled his periods in the +interior. Among us outside in the Pas Perdus the question was, ‘Is +Thiéry speaking for or in opposition to the Debenture Bill?’ and +managing to seize upon the old Major-General Dauriac, one of the three +Quæstors, who came rushing in, I put to him the question. He shrugged +both his shoulders on high, giving me the reply, ‘Who knows, my friend? +In the former half of his oration Thiéry has denounced the Bill, but +now is no less loudly sounding its praises. _C’est un homme nul, ce +monsieur-là_’—and he hastened on his way. + +“I did not remain during the oration of Monsieur de Courcy, who +followed Isabeau Thiéry in the tribune, but hurried back northward +in order to have direct speech with Lepsius himself. I now found the +_salon_, the stairs, the passages of Schuré’s house actually crowded—I +am unable to state why, since Schuré himself remained invisible—men +of the Bourse, newspaper-men, men-of-state, besides a number of mere +well-dressed _badauds_ and _désœuvrés_. Monsieur Fautras, the broker +of Lepsius, was speaking with General Figuier, the Military Governor +of Paris, and with Graf Bobertag of the German Embassy, which last +arrested me thirteen minutes with conversation of a secret nature. To +Lepsius I then spoke of the tone of Paris up to the present, and was +surprised that, though I had come at full speed, he already knew the +gist of Thiéry’s speech. It was said, indeed, that he had mysterious +instruments by means of which he could see and hear that which takes +place at a distance, though I myself have never seen any such with +him: at any rate, I now freely revealed my fears, reading to him some +headlines from the evening papers, and even venturing to say that the +air of Paris was believed to be bearable even in September! He took +it coldly. But did he ever know his friends? Was Lepsius ever capable +of appreciating the nature of friendship? Yet how he was loved by a +few! and how he was abhorred by all, even by the few who loved him! +‘I knew,’ he replied to everything of mine. ‘The Debenture Bill will +undoubtedly now be thrown out,’ I told him. ‘I knew,’ he answered, +adding, ‘it is of no importance, if Schuré be kept staunch: I rely upon +you to keep him staunch.’ This astonished me. ‘How can I?’ I asked. +‘Keep close to Thiéry to-night and to-morrow,’ he replied, ‘influence +him, and you will find out how I can repay.’ ‘Monsieur,’ was my answer, +‘I will do this with much pleasure without the prospect of any such +discovery.’ ‘Many thanks,’ said he. ‘I have,’ I then said, suddenly +remembering it, ‘to deliver to you this message from Mr. E. Reader +Meade, that it might be most inadvisable at the actual moment to try +to tempt Thiéry in a monetary sense’—a suggestion which (unless I was +mistaken) had the effect of strangely irritating Lepsius, for he made +me the amazing reply, ‘Monsieur, the oak is hardly the highest form of +life,’ and closed the interview. + +“I at once set out on the quest of Thiéry, wondering within myself +how it was that Lepsius was not that night in Paris! Was it _because_ +of the very hardship of combating the storm from the place in which +he happened to find himself that he decided to remain in it? Some +stiffness of neck? Some arrogance? For he was arrogant. Nothing was +greater than the grossness of his arrogance, save the glory of his +lowliness. Seeing men, he felt himself a deity; but he was saved from +even the least taint or vein of vanity, because his consciousness was +so quick and large, that no less nearly and clearly than he saw men +he saw stars, and felt himself a flea. At any rate, he could never be +induced to take the human race quite _au sérieux_; he abided in his +Brittany. + +“Thiéry I did not light upon until nigh on eleven in the night, and +then in the unexpected quarter of his own tiny _apartment_ in the +Rue de Rome—a two-roomed den, with a _cuisine_ and a vestibule; and +it was necessary for me to sit waiting in the vestibule, since the +Abbé Sauriau was there in the _salon_, engaged in talk which it was +altogether impossible for me to escape hearing, since nothing separated +us save an aged green drapery, which the gale, penetrating between +the beams, waved in my face. Thiéry was going up and down wrapped in +a greasy dressing-gown, a fez on his head, the abbé being seated, +speaking ceaselessly; nor was it long before I knew that it was a +question of offering Thiéry the portfolio of Justice as from Monsieur +de Courcy, who that day could have foreseen for himself nothing less +than the Chief Magistracy of France. Thiéry did not accept, did not +reject it. The abbé coaxed, quoted, fawned, exhorted, flattered. ‘The +destinies of France rest this night on your shoulders’; ‘it is for you +to-night, my friend, in rocking the tocsin of enfranchisement, to toll +once and no more for ever the death-knell of despots.’ ‘But the Army,’ +said Thiéry, ‘the Army.’ ‘Can the Army rescue a ruined man?’ asked the +abbé; and he added, ‘Listen, my friend, you are not a financier, but +you know that the company started with a capital of three milliards +in 1,200,000 shares of 2,500 francs each; you know, too, that 800,000 +ordinary shares were offered at par to the public at the first issue, +as to which the individual in question not only gave his guarantee to +pay four per cent. interest during construction, but to repay every +ordinary shareholder at par, if the venture should prove a failure. +And if it does!—as it is in your power to make it! Could revenues so +countless really come out of any private fund and not leave it dry? And +how in the day of his failure may the Army avail to save him from the +wrath of France?’ But numbers always dropped like water on a duck’s +back upon the skull of Isabeau Thiéry: and the breezes penetrating +beneath the door chilled my shins, and still he remained in his +indecision of mind. Finally he undertook to deliver his reply as to the +portfolio before twelve the next day, and the Abbé Sauriau then went +away. + +“It was then my turn to convert the poet, and certainly I worked with +no little fervour, throwing off reserve. I blessed with my hands +upon its head the bust of Cæsar on the mantel-piece; I spoke of the +offer of the portfolio as a bribe, and as unpatriotic in spirit; +I said ‘as in 1814,’ and ‘the destinies of France’; I spoke of the +crowd of crowned heads then in Paris to be present at the opening of +the Exhibition, and of their exultation to behold the overthrow of +that being who was the hope of France; and, sitting on his table’s +edge, his face glowed gallantly when in glaring hues I sketched the +glories of the future. Lepsius, I saw, occupied a place in his heart. +Unfortunately, just as 12.45 struck, in came Monsieur Josef, formerly +a _mouchard_ of the Rue de Jerusalem, then a man who to Lepsius was +‘P.2.’ The moment I beheld him I had a boding of trouble; and, certain +that the envelope that he delivered to Thiéry derived from Lepsius, I +kept my eyes fixed upon Thiéry while he read. Thiéry at once turned +quite worm-white; one could observe how his fingers quivered; and, +getting down from the table, he began to move about the room in an +absent manner, with a bosom somewhat breathless, and a visage at once +flushed and blanched in patches. I muttered to myself, ‘Lepsius must +have tempted him with some momentous money-offer.’ He walked presently +near to me, and with his arms quivering and somewhat spread appealed +rather piteously to me with a ‘Mon ami!’ He then began to walk about +again; till now again he halted to frown piercingly into the bust of +Cæsar on the mantel-piece; and now, beating his palm with his finger, +he breathed, ‘But no, but no, the Eagle does not blink’; and all at +once he was scarlet, cast up his head, letting slip a little ‘Ha!’ and +suddenly all in a hurry and flurry, muttering to himself, ‘Stop, he is +going to see,’ he was gone away. + +“He very soon hurried in again from his bedroom, dressed, drawing on +a glove, begging me to forgive him, since he must necessarily go. I +ventured to ask him whither, and his answer, ‘Ah! to Meudon,’ convinced +me that all was lost.... + +“When I flew to tell Lepsius of it, he during two seconds or so stood +mute, then very hurriedly said, ‘Thanks. I’ll look to it’....” + +What Lepsius did on learning of the disaster was urgently to telephone +a certain course of conduct to an agent in Chantilly; he then at once +summoned to his presence the Due de Rey-Drouilhet, who during two days +had been staying at Serapis; and he took two pilules out of a cabinet +and put them in a pill-box. + +As soon as the duke came in he was struck staggering a step or two +against one of the pillars, for the hall, all open to the four winds, +was all vocal and haunted with the storm, and half its area of floor +was as washed with rain-water as a ship’s quarterdeck. Lepsius seated +the old man near him in the middle, and speaking as low as the sound +of the winds allowed, said, “I wish to pray you to set off for Paris +for me by my next special at 1.6; for if you wish to prove useful to +me, and at the same time to make yourself affluent for life, this is +your chance of chances. I may tell you that Thiéry has just taken train +from Paris to Meudon to see his sister, Fanny Schuré, with a design +unfriendly to me. Well, he will not see her to-night: for an agent +of mine in Chantilly, where Schuré is, is at this moment telephoning +her the false news that her husband is dying, and either fifteen or +four minutes before Thiéry reaches Meudon she will have left it for +Chantilly; nor will he be able, I see, to follow her thither to-night +for want of a train. But to-morrow he will see her, unless I prevent +him; hence I ask you to assist at his _premier déjeûner_ in the +morning, and deftly to drop these two pilules into his coffee or +chocolate. You are his friend—— What is it?” + +He turned to a servant by his elbow who bore him a leaf of ivory +scribbled with these words: “Healy can live only a few minutes +more.—RUTH.” + +Lepsius sprang up, pestered at this the third missive of the kind +received that day, he having been too busy to pay any heed to them, +though Healy was at this time, by his orders, near him in the north +palace. He walked away to the columns, and cast a look out: no stars +out there, no vault of heaven, only darksomeness mixed all with water +and winds wawling; and back he bolted to the duke, saying, “Excuse me +two minutes,” and hastened away. + +His own motive in going he hardly knew, since that was hardly very +rational that he should go: but something that is in the breast brought +him. However, he did not enter, only stole nigh, and, standing outside +a door-hanging, listened, spied. + +The two windows looked toward the coast, and though these were well +closed, everything movable in the room moved to a breeze that ever +breathed through it—the bed-curtains, the skirt of an Ursuline who +kneeled near the bottom of the bed, telling her beads, the skirt of +Miss Ruth who kneeled at the bed’s head, reading, the beard of the old +Nundcumar who sat leaning forward on a sofa between these two. + +Miss Vickery held under her eyes on the bed’s edge a Greek Bible from +which with a poignancy and grieving in her voice she was translating, +the gale battering anon great breaches in her speech in the ear of +Lepsius. + +“Nor be called masters ... but he that is greatest among you will be +your servant ... and he that humbles himself is high.” + +The bed was low and small, in the north-west corner of the chamber +under a window—the window which was opposite the door where Lepsius +waited, there being two doors in the length of the room (which was +longish and narrow), and two great windows, under a groined roof; and +though an Arabian boy, crouching on a rug in the south-west corner of +the marble floor, made a fourth watcher in the chamber, there was an +air of loneness in there, an odour of death. This little Arab, indeed, +but increased this feeling: for, though kneeling, he was so doubled +on himself, so stone-still, that he seemed to be dead, and a greenish +sheen gloating on his cheek from the lamp-globe just above his head +increased his appearance of death. + +“And they came to a place named Gethsemane, and he said to his +disciples, ‘You wait here, while I go to pray.’” + +The light of the only lamp was somehow a local halo about itself, +throwing the remainder of the room in some obscurity, so that the +clicks of the nun’s rosary arose from shadows in which she was herself +no more than a shadow; nor could Healy be seen, nothing but his toes +sticking up beneath the clothes, though anon that keen ear of Lepsius +could hear his throat croaking the death-ruckle, pouring it low, +hurried, like a purring rolling; and, still more pressed with haste, +rain-water outside struggling darkly down spouts, with gulps and sobs +and goblin sounds; and again that poignancy and break in Miss Vickery’s +voice.... + +“And he went a little onward, and dropped down upon the ground, and +prayed, saying, ‘Abba (papa), take away this cup from me; still, not +what I want, papa, but what thou.’” + +Loudly from across the sea came the sound of the gale, flapping with +the sound of a navy of argosies going down in some archipelago of +gloom, with all their great sails whooping loose, and all their sailors +wailing. + +“And again he went away, and dropped down on the ground, and prayed, +saying, ‘If it be possible, let this draught pass away from me; still, +not what I want, papa, but what thou.’” + +The hand of Lepsius tightened on the box that held the two pilules +designed for Isabeau Thiéry’s breakfast; at the same time the +death-ruckle on the bed came on a sudden to an end; the happy saint +raised herself from the bedside with a smile and a light in her eyes; +and during some moments nobody moved in the room, until now the crony +Nundcumar rose to move to the bed’s head, and, bowed over the dead with +a moving brow and body, crooning, he said, “He is dead. But his head +is not yet thoroughly dead and done, and he lies reflecting dimly in +himself, thinking: ‘I am dead: no more to view the sight of the sun, +nor any light of the moon at night, nor all the stars: for I am dead, +and this is death; and what I long saw falling upon others, and was +long in awe of for myself, is fallen at last this day upon me, me, +also: for I lie dead, and this is my day.’” + +As for Lepsius, he was gone; not so swiftly as he had come. + +When he got back to the hall where the duke awaited him, he halted +two seconds betwixt two of the columns, struck with hesitancy: until, +suddenly running, he muttered, “Forgive me for being longer than I +meant; and now, to catch the train, you should be in haste”—he held out +the pill-box. + +The old man was very tremulous; his hand that rose to take the +box hesitated midway. “I assume, monsieur, that the dose is not—is +innocuous....” + +Lepsius’ lip of disdain deigned no reply. + +“I know it, of course,” remarked the old fop piteously in a flurry, +“and asked only for form’s sake.... On those terms I am entirely at +your service.” + +“Rey-Drouilhet, be certain and deft,” said Lepsius impressively; and +within eight minutes Rey-Drouilhet was on the way to the railway. +Before 7.40 the following morning he sat, in the Rue de Rome, at +Isabeau Thiéry’s bed’s head. + +He pretended that pressing Serapis-gossip had thus brought him at the +matin-gun; but he had hardly any need to invent the gossip, since by +this time Thiéry could speak of nothing but Lepsius’ bribe. + +“My friend, what was the amount?” the duke questioned with a screwed +countenance. + +“It was two millions, monsieur.” + +“_De Dieu de Dieu!_... I who am no more a youth would undoubtedly have +refused it without difficulty, but how could you, a young man?” + +“Ah, mon cher ami, noblesse oblige,” remarked Isabeau Thiéry in an +absent mutter. + +He was now about to get out of bed to get on his clothes, when his +_gouvernante_ bore him in his coffee and little loaf; and during +the minutes that he took to fling on his things, the coffee stood +cooling on a commode close to the duke. The flesh of the duke’s face +during this became very blanched and aged, his manners nervous and +fluttered; but, though he had the two pills in his hand, and had +many opportunities of dropping them into the coffee during Thiéry’s +dressing, he did not. He now thought to himself, “No, Thiéry must be +out of the room,” and presently he passed the remark that he had not +breakfasted. + +“My friend, pardon me!” cried out Thiéry, and darted out half-dressed +to order another cup of coffee. + +Now was the duke’s opportunity. Yet he did not drop the pills into +Thiéry’s coffee. He started! First athwart the whirl of his thoughts +flushed Isabeau Thiéry’s words, “_noblesse oblige_,” the example of +that generous blood: and away he rushed, bent, from the coffee; and +then back to it he rushed, fleet and thievish, to dash in the pills; +and away from it afresh, without having dashed them in. And now he was +casting his arms on high, his rickety eyes, distracted; and now he was +creeping on his knees, sneakingly, to drop the two pills into a pot +beneath the bed; and now he was at Thiéry’s bread, sneakingly kneading +two pills out of the pith; and _these_ he dropped into Thiéry’s +coffee.... + +Later that forenoon he misquoted Shakespeare, despatching to Lepsius, +in English, the telegram, “The deed is done.” + +Nor did Lepsius need the coming of this telegram to be perfectly +certain that the deed was done, though he could scarcely still have +been ignorant that very many threads congregate to make the mental +texture of modern men. Anyway, till late in the day he was securely +acting upon the fact that the duke could not fail; and then, suddenly, +he knew—too late.... + +The next night, the second of the Exhibition, was the night on which +men had been given to hope that a strange glory would change the look +of the skies: but no such glory arose upon the eyes. + +And now more in number than the messengers of Job crowded upon Lepsius +the recorders of his downfall; French laws and procedures were tortured +in order to reach him swiftly; during the midnight of the ninth the +offices of the moon in the Rue St. Honoré, as well as the offices of +several newspapers in his pay, were wrecked; on the 11th the troops +of the 67th, posted to protect his palace in the Elysées, could not +prevent it from being sacked and burned; by the 13th he had been +accused, and had been convicted by the Sixth Tribunal, of fermenting +civil strife; by the 15th the decree of his banishment from French +land, posted in every commune, had been gaped at as old and usual, and +glared from the gates of Serapis. + +Lepsius smiled, but bitterly. He was lying on his belly on a bed of +straw, reading the life of Jesus of Nazareth in the book of Matthew +when the news of the destruction of the moon-offices reached him; and +at once, throwing away the book to run out with a reddened brow, he +said within himself, “I will blot out this name of France.” During the +rage and deluge of the few days following, he yet more hardened his +heart. To Miss Ruth Vickery he refused an interview, and to Miss Eve +Vickery, who wrote “I am sorry for you,” and entreated him to be meek, +to cease from scheming, and to bend his head before the tempest, he +condescended to send no answer. + +Indeed, he was now too busy to heed anything but what he was now about +to do. In his resentment he had resolved to stretch out his arm in +terror, of each and all of his enemies to make a clean sweep in one +heap, and immediately to leap into a throne, some months before he +had previously proposed. Of the Army, which regarded him as its hope +of glory, he was still certain; and on the morning of the 15th the +first of his thunderbolts bewildered the world, when from his rostrum +at the Bourse, Monsieur Fautras roundly denounced the downfall of the +moon-structure as due to the schemings of paltry politicians, and to +the treachery of the engineer Schuré. He was authorised, he said, +by Monsieur Lepsius, to present as a loan to the company a sum of a +milliard and a half of francs, not to be repaid till ordinary shares +should be earning a dividend of 8 per cent.; and, further, he was +authorised by Monsieur Lepsius, who was prepared to finance the concern +entirely from his private purse, to purchase back, if desired, every +ordinary share at par from that morning; and, further, he had to say +that by midday of the 17th instant Monsieur Lepsius proposed to be in +Paris.... + +Never did Lepsius loom so hugely upon the universal world, luminous +as some angel of the welkin, as that afternoon, France, for her part, +casting upon her head the ashes of contrition. As for the foes of +Lepsius, they saw only instant loss of place and power, only ruin, +degradation, disgrace, knowing that now the decree of banishment +against him was nothing but a dead letter. Hence the Count de Courcy +took a hurried trip down into Brittany that day, and contrived to talk +a little with the prattler Nundcumar outside the walls of Serapis.... + +At five on the morning of the 17th all was in order for the departure +for Paris, and Lepsius, not having slept through the night, went to lie +a little in his bath, his big dog, Argo, and the old Nundcumar, going +also with him. As he locked the door, he noticed that the dog, going +up to a coffer of cedarwood, in which it was usual to keep towels, +etc., sniffed at it; the dog, however, did not growl, and, as his head +was now crowded with cares, he gave it no heed. It was an apartment of +marble with a row of round windows in one wall up near the ceiling, and +in the centre of it a sort of well or cistern, with a tower of marble +about it as light and beautiful as a flower, whose whiteness bloomed +again down in the water’s gloom, and it had a bell in it; otherwise +the apartment was without any ornament, except for the coffer in one +corner, and the bath in the corner opposite, this being a mass of +augite and gold, so big that one might swim a little, with lumps of ice +floating in the water that almost filled it. Lepsius’ pieces of raiment +dropped from him, he was in immediately, dived, and remained under a +long while. Argo, the dog, was walking uneasily to and fro, but if one +had looked narrowly at him, the dog might have been seen to be not +quite himself, to be drunk or drugged. Nundcumar, for his part, stood +by the side of the bath, his knees weak beneath him, but with no sign +of this to be seen in his lean looks; and the air in there seemed to +wait for somewhat, and to wait, a dusk air, for though it was now fully +day outside, in there the light was scarce. + +At the moment when Lepsius went under the water for the second time, +Nundcumar, suddenly grabbing the dog by the collar, coughed twice: and +the next moment the dog broke roaring from his grasp to drag down a +woman who rose out of the coffer and flew through the room.... Lepsius, +hearing the row, reared up his head, and even as the woman went down +under the hound, received vitriol about his brows.... + +He at once dived.... + +Later in the day he discovered that one of his sandals, in a chamber +of which he kept a little key, was missing. It was the Abbé Sauriau +who told him so, kneeling over Lepsius on his bed of straw, as the +gloaming began to grow deep. “It is intended that your hoards shall be +distributed among charitable institutions,” the abbé said; and he cried +accusingly, his body convulsed with sobs, “Lepsius, you are blind! and +it is I who have been the cause of this.” + +Lepsius lay with a band covering his eyes, his limbs cast all asprawl +at random, tossing for ease; and presently he bleated, “I am blind!” + +And now Isabeau Thiéry, waiting for hours at the far end of the +chamber, dashed both his palms to his ears to shut out the sound of +that bleat, which each three minutes was repeated, and rushed with the +stare of a maniac away. + +Lepsius could get no rest, for though the ravage of the vitriol (thanks +to the rush of the dog and to the bath-water) was local about the +brows, and he was hardly at all disfigured in his face, yet the agony +was great, and the heat of the atmosphere every moment growing greater, +since a reign of licence and riot had kept carnival during all the +afternoon, and at several places Serapis was flaring. + +“You must not stay here much longer,” blubbed the Abbé Sauriau, with +two big tears streaming on his cheeks.... “I have a little cottage in +Chantilly, and thither you will come to abide until my death by my +side. You are poor, you are many millions in debt, you are utterly +destitute, naught can be more utter, more boundless, than your +downfall. So you will come, my friend, to my breast, and in the cottage +we shall be, we two, dwelling in a shaded leisure and seclusion of +literature, for I shall be reading my books to you, and you will be +dictating books to me, which I shall write for you.” + +“I am blind!” bleated the blind boy to his obscurity, neither heeding +nor hearing him. + +It was at this point that the blind boy’s father arrived after a voyage +from London; and, lying on the straws, the old man rubbed his cheek +on his son’s cheek silently, a sob in his throat keeping him from +speaking; whereat the Abbé Sauriau and some others who were there +stole away; and presently, when he had wept plenteously, Dr. Lepsius +said to his son, who kept shrinking from his touch, “You have yet your +yacht at anchor yonder in the bay; let’s cut back to Shunter! you and +me; only no Shan any more, no Shan: back out of the dirty world, to +listen to the waups whistling, what? Don’t you remember the old castle? +And the old coble-boat on the north coast? And the long, low old shed, +centuries old, all encrusted with peat-smoke, which we could see from +the east castle-turret far off in the heugh of the crags? And all the +gulls, and the bog, and the hags of water with the buckies in ’em, +can’t you recall it all, and the sea? Say that you are coming....” + +“I shall never run again!” complained Lepsius to his gloom. + +“You may! You do not know yet! God may will to give you back your eyes, +or one of them! But say that you will come this night with me.” + +“Are you not still against me?” asked Lepsius in pain. + +“What, against my own? Was I ever really against _you_, do you dream? +Oh, fie, hard heart, to let yourself utter those words!” + +Lepsius now turned a little to put his arm about the old man’s +shoulder, and water washed with a whey of blood wound all down one side +of his nose, while the old man moaned. + +“So, then,” the old man said, “you will come, for I feel that it will +do you good, and I’ll go at once to see to it.” + +He stood up; and he had scarcely gone away when with eager feet Miss +Eve Vickery came in, and fifteen feet from Lepsius stood looking +at him, her father halting far off near the pillars, his eyes all +alight with excitement. Having come for his daughters, he had ordered +them both into a brougham, and they had started to roll away in +it through the ruelles and courts of Serapis, lurid at this time +with conflagrations glaring in the gloomy night, where groups of +distinguished men from Paris and elsewhere stood to watch the flames +and fumes, and, like devils in fire, troops of luxurious rioters roved +with uproars to and fro. But when about to pass out of this scene, Miss +Eve had seen a wing of the north palace in passing near it, and had +leapt up. Nor could anything stay her. “I will see him once,” she had +said over her shoulder: whereon her father, ordering his other daughter +to remain where she was, had followed Miss Eve’s speeding feet; and +Miss Eve came, and stood, and looked at Lepsius. + +“Eve, I am blind!” bleated Lepsius aloud, perhaps having caught and +known the sound of her walk, or probably invoking her without any +knowledge that she was present; and what pen of poet or seer of the +soul can disclose the olio of her whole emotion then, sketching with +what fiendishness of hell-spite her whitened lip touched her lower +teeth, as she flung at him, “You should have been good!” and then again +how the bowels of her woman’s ruth moved and rued, beholding him so +low, when he rose on his elbow, but tumbled back, calling, “Eve! you +are here!” + +“Lepsius, I am going for good from you!” + +“Eve, do not leave me!” + +“Eve!” her father now called out in a sort of whisper. + +She crammed her mouth with her handkerchief to bite on, and letting +fall her arm behind her toward the bed of straws, wafting it a +good-bye, tried to get away toward her father, but half-way gave up, +smiling, her knees going feeble beneath her, and lapsed, seated, upon +the floor; whereat Mr. Vickery came, raised, and carried her away to +their carriage. + +The carriage then went on its way toward the station two miles distant +through a dark night unlighted by one star in the sky, with wild winds +blowing. But they had not advanced half a mile when the driver suddenly +halted, having noticed lying right athwart the road a woman whom, but +for the light radiating from the blazing of Serapis, he must have +driven over. Mr. Vickery, getting out, gave a hand to raising her up: +and now, to his consternation, she turned out to be his old servant, +Jeanne Auvache. The woman, her life-work now performed, was now all +maudlin, and desired to die—hence had thrown herself on the road. She +instantly dashed into chattering (against the grain of her hearers) +as to the various phases of the day, on her face a rain of tears, +Miss Ruth and her father induced to hear, Miss Eve, for her part, +reclining in swoon with her lips parted like the dying, not appearing +to hear. One piece of the chatter, however, appeared to pierce to her +consciousness; and now her eyes unclosed, she sat up. It was when +Jeanne Auvache was recounting how she had been arrested at St. Brieuc, +and how at about 3 p.m. she had been brought back to Serapis in order +to be presented to, and identified by, Lepsius, the officers not then +knowing that Lepsius was entirely sightless. “He is good, he is very +good,” the hag groaned, “so that I regret at the actual moment to have +done it, and have a desire to die. He lay there on his bed of straws, +all solitary, calling to nobody ‘I am blind’; and when the two officers +asked him if he was able to say whether I was the woman, he answered +them, ‘Let her say something’; so I said, ‘Monsieur Lepsius!’ and I +said again, ‘Monsieur Lepsius!’ and he gave no answer to the two men +for some time, but lay still, frowning, passing his palm over his brow +and his bandage; and he then said gently, ‘No, it was not she; it was +not a woman who did it,’ and then——” + +Now, however, a crazy stare was gazing out of the carriage window, Miss +Eve leaning out, saying, “Do you say, woman, that he forgave you? Oh, +tell me the God’s truth!” + +“Why, yes, since you see me here——” the hag began to say: but now Miss +Eve was gone. + +“Eve!” howled her father after her, “remember your vow to——?” + +Miss Eve threw her hand backward without looking round, and went +fluttering on her way, her frocks quarrelling with the winds; nor was +it possible to pursue her with the brougham, since she took a shortcut +path through a meadow; and though her father and Miss Ruth ran after +her, calling, her youth and long legs soon got them pretty far behind, +she slipping back to Serapis like a spring which, pressed the wrong +way, is of a sudden sprung free. In some fifteen minutes she lay on her +love’s bed, shuddering on his breast, her teeth chattering feverishly +into his ear “for ever,” and anew “for ever.” + +“Eve, you are here!” he called to her in that voice of the blind which +has lost its way like a lambkin bleating in the void of the night; and +she in the fever of her joy said to him, “Here, you can feel it, the +half coin: where should I be but in you, but interned in your heart, my +eternal? I who eternities since yearned at the altar with you.” + +But now Dr. Lepsius walked actively in to announce that everything was +ready as to the vessel; and about half an hour after this, a small +crowd consisting of Dr. Lepsius, Lepsius, Miss Eve, Miss Ruth, Mr. +Vickery, a Dr. Proudhomme of Serapis, the Abbé Sauriau, Isabeau Thiéry, +Saïd Pasha, and Mr. E. Reader Meade, paced to the quay of the little +bay named Petit Bazaine. Yonder on the sea the yacht’s three lights +glared tiny in a darkness made rather Tartarian by the conflagration of +Serapis, the glows from which, glaring on the slopes of the billows’ +blackness in dabblements, gave to the bay the goriness of Aceldama. +A boat lay at the end of the quay; but as the sea was very rough, +and trouble was looked for in embarking Lepsius, all the party went +forward to see the boat, leaving him seated alone on a block of stone. +The boatmen, who lay on their oars, called that they would wait for a +calmer moment; so it was some minutes ere Miss Eve ran back to bring +Lepsius, and then to her amazement, met him on his knees—the roar of +the breakers and of the gale in his ears, the sprays raining on his +face, or his engrossment, may be, in his prayer, preventing him from +hearing her approach. She with an uplifted hand, stood hushed a little, +listening, catching some words, the bursting of his sobs.... “Who +hearest, but dost not heed, the bleatings of brutes ... yet if just one +human wish for once may move thee ... let no speck of grit ever prick +her eyes to agonise her; oh, I was sick and she visited me pelt her; I +am reft, despoiled, and she makes choice of me ... chase, infest her +every hour with fresh showers and astonishments of joy——” + +She touched him, saying, “Come.” + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77484 *** diff --git a/77484-h/77484-h.htm b/77484-h/77484-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..dbbe9e3 --- /dev/null +++ b/77484-h/77484-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,10005 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> +<head> + <meta charset="UTF-8"> + <meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width, initial-scale=1"> + <title> + The isle of lies | Project Gutenberg + </title> + <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> + <style> +/* <![CDATA[ */ + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} +.half-title { + margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em; + text-align: center; + font-size: x-large; + font-weight: normal; + line-height: 1.6; + } +p { + margin-top: .51em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .49em; +} + +.p3 {margin-top: 3em; } +.p5t {margin-top: 5em;} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: 33.5%; + margin-right: 33.5%; + clear: both; +} + +hr.tb {width: 45%; margin-left: 27.5%; margin-right: 27.5%;} +hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} +@media print { hr.chap {display: none; visibility: hidden;} } +div.chapter {page-break-before: always;} +h2.nobreak {page-break-before: avoid;} + + +table { + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; +} +table.autotable { border-collapse: collapse; } +table.autotable td, +table.autotable th { padding: 4px; } + +.tdl {text-align: left;} +.tdr {text-align: right;} + +.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + font-style: normal; + font-weight: normal; + font-variant: normal; + text-indent: 0; +} /* page numbers */ + + +.blockquot { + margin-left: 5%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +/*.bbox1 {margin-left: 12.5%; margin-right:12.5%; + padding-left: 2em; padding-right: 2em; + border: solid 2px;} + +.bbox2 {margin-left: 20%; margin-right:20%; + padding-left: 2em; padding-right: 2em; padding-bottom: 2em; + height: 300px; + border: solid 2px;} + +.bbox3 {margin-left: 15%; margin-right:15%; + padding-left: 2em; padding-right: 2em; + border: solid 2px;}*/ + +.center {text-align: center;} + +.right {text-align: right;} + +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + +.allsmcap {font-variant: small-caps; text-transform: lowercase;} + +.sm {font-size: 70%;} +.bg {font-size: 150%;} +.mt3 {margin-top: 3em;} + +.book-container {display: flex; justify-content: center;} +.book {} + +/* Images */ + +img { + max-width: 100%; + height: auto; +} +img.w100 {width: 100%;} + +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; + page-break-inside: avoid; + max-width: 100%; +} +.width500 {width: 500px;} + +/* Footnotes */ +.footnotes {border: 1px dashed;} + +.footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + +.footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + +.fnanchor { + vertical-align: super; + font-size: .8em; + text-decoration: + none; +} + +/* Transcriber's notes */ +.transnote {background-color: #E6E6FA; + color: black; + font-size:smaller; + padding:0.5em; + margin-bottom:5em; + font-family:sans-serif, serif; } + +/* Illustration classes */ +.illowp60 {width: 60%;} + + /* ]]> */ </style> +</head> +<body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77484 ***</div> + +<div class="transnote"> +<h3>Transcriber’s Notes</h3> + +<p>Obvious typographical errors have been silently corrected. Variations +in hyphenation have been standardised where appropriate but all other +spelling and punctuation remains unchanged. +</p> +</div> + +<figure class="figcenter width500" id="cover"> + <img src="images/cover.jpg" width="1600" height="2560" alt="Book cover"> +</figure> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<h1> +THE<br> +ISLE<br> +OF LIES</h1> + + +<div class="chapter"> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<p class="center">NEW NOVELS</p> +</div> +<div class="book-container"> +<div class="book"> +<p>Betty Brent, Typist.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p><span class="smcap sm">By “Rita.”</span></p> +</div> + +<p>Red Love.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="sm">By the Author of “The Wild Widow.”</p> +</div> + +<p>The Soul of Crœsus.</p> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="sm">By <span class="smcap">Gerald Villiers-Stuart</span>.</p> +</div> + +<p>A Gentleman from Portland.</p> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="sm">By <span class="smcap">Ranger Gull</span>.</p> +</div> + +<p>The Methods of Mr. Ames.</p> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="sm">By the Author of “The Adventures of John +Johns.”</p> +</div> + +<p>A Laughing Matter.</p> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="sm">By <span class="smcap">Shan F. Bullock</span>.</p> +</div> + +<p>The Loser Pays. A Story of the French +Revolution.</p> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="sm">By <span class="smcap">Mary Openshaw</span>.</p> +</div> + +<p>The Silent Ones.</p> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="sm">By <span class="smcap">Mary Gaunt</span> and <span class="smcap">J. Ridgwell Essex</span>.</p> +</div> + +<p>The Adventures of Louis Blake.</p> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="sm">By <span class="smcap">Louis Becke</span>.</p> +</div> + +<p>Side Stepping with Shorty.</p> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="sm">By <span class="smcap">Sewell Ford</span>. Author of “Shorty McCabe.” +Illustrated.</p> +</div> + +<p>The Wild Widow.</p> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="sm">By <span class="smcap">Gertie de S. Wentworth-James</span>.</p> +</div> + +<p>Cousins and Others.</p> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="sm">By <span class="smcap">Katharine Tynan</span>.</p> +</div> + +<p>Lil of the Slums.</p> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="sm">By <span class="smcap">Dick Donovan</span>.</p> +</div> +</div> +</div> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="bbox1"> +<h2> +THE ISLE OF<br> +LIES</h2> +</div> +<div class="bbox2"> +<p class="center sm p3">BY </p> + +<p class="center bg p3">M. P. SHIEL</p> + +<p class="center sm p3">Author of<br> +“The White Wedding”<br> +“The Last Miracle”<br> +</p> + +<p class="center sm p5t">“The sounding again of the<br> +mountains.”—<i>Ezekiel.</i></p> +</div> +<div class="bbox3"> +<p class="center mt3"> +Published at Clifford’s Inn, London<br> + +By T. WERNER LAURIE<br> +</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CONTENTS">CONTENTS</h2> +</div> + + +<table class="autotable"> +<tr> +<td class="tdl" colspan="2">CHAP.</td> +<td class="tdr">PAGE</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">I.</a></td> +<td class="tdl"> THE STELE</td> +<td class="tdr">1</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">II.</a></td> +<td class="tdl">MOLLY O’HARA</td> +<td class="tdr">17</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">III.</a></td> +<td class="tdl"> THE ISLE OF LIES</td> +<td class="tdr">29</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">IV</a>.</td> +<td class="tdl"> THE SHIP</td> +<td class="tdr">43</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">V.</a></td> +<td class="tdl"> “MISS EVE”</td> +<td class="tdr">52</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">VI.</a></td> +<td class="tdl"> THE TOWERS</td> +<td class="tdr">62</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">VII.</a></td> +<td class="tdl"> THE TERRACES</td> +<td class="tdr">68</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">VIII.</a></td> +<td class="tdl"> IN THE GARDEN</td> +<td class="tdr">79</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">IX.</a></td> +<td class="tdl"> “VITRIOLISERAI”</td> +<td class="tdr">93</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">X.</a></td> +<td class="tdl"> “THE MOON”</td> +<td class="tdr">111</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">XI.</a></td> +<td class="tdl"> THE CHAMBER-WINDOW</td> +<td class="tdr">135</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">XII.</a></td> +<td class="tdl"> THE WEDDING-PLACE</td> +<td class="tdr">171</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">XIII.</a></td> +<td class="tdl"> AT EGMOND</td> +<td class="tdr">190</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">XIV.</a></td> +<td class="tdl"> AT SERAPIS</td> +<td class="tdr">208</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XV">XV.</a></td> +<td class="tdl"> TO SHUNTER</td> +<td class="tdr">226</td> +</tr> +</table> + + + +<div class="chapter"> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</span></p> +</div> + +<p class="half-title">THE ISLE OF LIES</p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I.<br> + +<span class="sm">THE STELE.</span></h2> + +<p>Perhaps one’s happiest manner to begin the history +of the remarkable boy whose moral we have to point +is to give, as we can, that part of Professor S. S. +Reid’s diary which has to do with the matter. The +professor writes:</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>I have this morning the tidings that a son is born +to Dr. Lepsius, and as the fact may possibly come to +prove momentous in the history of experiment, I am +about now to jot down just what I was in the way to +know of the story.</p> + +<p>In the dog-days of ’68, close on two years gone +now, our bout-at-arms with Theodore III. of +Abyssinia came to a close with the capture of +Magdala by Napier: and the victory was still in +everyone’s mouth, when Lepsius one afternoon strolls +into my study to notify me that the British Government +was about to send out a mission to that country, +and that he, Lepsius, was to accompany it in some +rôle or other. I was quite surprised, in spite of my +familiarity with the manifold activities of this man.</p> + +<p>“<i>You</i> going to Abyssinia?” I exclaimed.</p> + +<p>“I am,” says he.</p> + +<p>“But what for?” I asked.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</span></p> + +<p>“There are the Jurassic limestones for one thing,” +he answered, “and you surely know that some more +or less valuable MSS., especially Bible MSS., already +derive from Abyssinia.”</p> + +<p>He then proceeded to tell me that in the rage of the +Mohammedan invasion of that region in the sixteenth +century, the Abyssinians heaped most of their +Ethiopian and other manuscripts into a certain +museum on Debra-Seena (an island of Lake Sana), +where they remain guarded by clerics, who regard +them as idol relics. “Abyssinia, then,” said he, +“might not be a bad four-months’ abode for a bloke +like me; at all events, I am off.”</p> + +<p>And off, in some weeks, Lepsius was.... Never +let it be said that the doctor was any shade of a +scatter-brains! for in my lifetime never did I meet +so essential a sage; all the same, I do admit that to +some of the heats of Lepsius the word “flighty” has +been applied with some meaning, he was ever so +fevered, seeming always to keep vastly too many +irons in the fire—“Jack of all trades!” I don’t say +master of none. The man was tinged with both +physics and biology like a Janus-head, was an educationist +and an Egyptologist, all in the ardour of the +same day. Modern learning—he made that his +domain. Of course, his thumping fortune had much +to do with such a mental posture and manner of life, +for, like the free-lance that he ever was, his relation +with the mill of science was mainly honorary. I +never met him steaming along the streets, mopping +his pink brow, but he was eager to drag me to the +meeting-of-council of some society, or to drop at my +ear some spanking scientific tidings. Old Lepsius! +I fancy that I behold him anew, not a beauty assuredly, +with his shortish form, bold nose, and thin<span class="pagenum" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</span> +lips, his burning straight hair brushed back flat from +the forehead, and curled up a bit at the nape! At the +time when he started for Abyssinia he was a man of +perhaps forty-five, of established fame in the western +world, and a hardened old bachelor—I almost said +old maid!</p> + +<p>What surprises me is that a man like Lepsius, a +tender wight at bottom surely, should have let himself +become the excuse for bloodshed during this +exuberance of his, and should have been led into committing +an act which the common man might well +consider wonderfully like pilfering—at the spur of a +whim! Learning, may be, has a claim to make its +own code of morals, but I am convinced that in, say, +Madrid, Lepsius would have shrunk with dismay from +doing what in that savage country he did with the +coolest self-assurance.</p> + +<p>The mission reached the town of Gondar at the +end of August—a world of mountains now, after a +camel-journey of some weeks across the lowlands +from Somaliland. By September, Dr. Lepsius had +won sufficient favour for his purposes with the +viceroy, or <i>ras</i>, and, with his usual rashness, ventured +out with only one Choan servant on an ass for +Lake Sana, twenty miles south, to examine the MSS., +etc.</p> + +<p>It appears that in these regions the rainy season is +from June to the tail-end of September, so that now +it was pouring without pity. However, one forenoon +Lepsius comes to the lake, and is rowed, as he +related it to me, in a buffalo-hide boat to one of the +islets.</p> + +<p>On this island was a kind of double monastery, half +occupied by sisters, and half by brothers, to which +latter Lepsius had a letter of introduction given him<span class="pagenum" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</span> +by the <i>abuna</i> (or father) of Gondar, the head of the +Christian-Coptic Church of Abyssinia; but the scientist’s +welcome at the monastery was hardly hearty, +since, having landed on the island, he had to hang +about a whole hour without beholding his hosts. This, +however, as it turned out, was owing to no cursedness +of the monks, since it appears that, the prior of the +monastery having recently died, the monks were even +then intent upon the rite of electing his successor. +This once over, Lepsius was fairly well received, and +soon thereupon was rowed through the rain to the +library by two of the monks: those monks, he told +me, being dark-skinned carles with crinkled hair all +in plaits, and the library being a kind of mosque on +another island half a mile from the monastery-island.</p> + +<p>Here, then, on this second island, Lepsius abode +most of the day, ferreting and feasting his curiosity. +Onwards from the sixth century of our era Abyssinia, +he has told me, was a bold and expansive power, +having dealings with India, with Ceylon, with the +Greek Empire, and overflowing by far the greater part +of Arabia: so that this mosque place was crammed +with all the gimcrackery and dust of the ages—scriptures, +urns, relics, cartouches, taliput-books, +mostly modern and of small importance, but still of +interest; and the only thing which badgered Lepsius’ +peace of mind at being turned loose into these pastures +was the continual presence of the two monks who had +rowed him over, seeing that they did not leave his +side a moment. One of them, he says, was a particularly +swagger chap who carried over his cotton +garment two falchions in scarlet-morocco scabbards, +and his aspect appears to have smacked nastily of the +fact that in Abyssinia the Church is burningly<span class="pagenum" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</span> +militant. Ever and anon he would grumble something +to his mate in Amharic—a kind of Arabic lingo +with which Lepsius was pretty well acquainted, though +his ear lacked ease in striking quite what was said.</p> + +<p>Toward sunset he went down some steps to an underground +corridor into which a series of grilles and +doors opened, having in his brisk fashion already +made a survey of the treasures above, and wishing to +run over those below while there was still some twilight. +Midway in the corridor, at a moment when, +as it happened, the two monks were whispering together, +he noticed a half-open grille, and passed in, +whereat the grimmer of the two fellows stepped +sharply up and tapped him on the shoulder, saying, +“Not in there!” But Lepsius was already in, and +making out that he didn’t understand, took another +step, and looked about him.</p> + +<p>Three sides of this apartment were piled with +papyri and many book-like objects dark with dust, +together with pictures of saints all painted full-face, +whatever the posture of the body, and with idols, +weapons, beads, and other suchlike gems and curios. +One wall of it, however, was almost bare, and there, +in the centre of that wall, hung a little basalt stele, +about as thick as one’s wrist, and about six inches +long; it had a copper cap with an old hole in it, +through which passed the banyan string with which +it was hung up. Lepsius could see that it was covered +with a singular enough mixture of hieroglyphic, +hieratic, and demotic figures; and his curiosity seems +to have been at once fired to a high degree by this +sight, especially when he saw marked on the wall +over the stele in the Geez jargon the curious runes, +“Riches of Jerusalem.”</p> + +<p>Meantime, while peering at the little stele, Lepsius<span class="pagenum" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</span> +with half an eye had observed on the floor, immediately +under the stele, a coffin only half covered +by its lid, so that he could spy the body of a very +old man who looked lost within it—the coffin was so +large, and the corpse so small—and at the coffin’s +foot sat on the floor a gigantic Galla, armed to the +teeth, his shield garnished with human hair, these +Gallas being, in fact, the blackest and most malignant +of the Abyssinian clans.</p> + +<p>“Well,” Lepsius said, “may I look about?” +addressing himself to the milder of the two monks. +The answer was, “No, it is the prior’s room.”</p> + +<p>“And who is the dead man?” Lepsius asked.</p> + +<p>“The prior,” was the answer.</p> + +<p>“Who died yesterday?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“He died here, then?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, in this chamber, where he mainly passed his +time.”</p> + +<p>“Why did he pass his time here?” Lepsius wished +to know.</p> + +<p>“Because,” was the answer, “he wanted to contemplate +the sacred stele. For fifty years he was poring +upon it, and dropped dead before it.”</p> + +<p>“Oho,” says Lepsius, “and what is the history of +the stele, my friend?”</p> + +<p>“It fell from heaven,” replied the monk; “the prior +found it here when he was a very young monk, and +hung it there under that picture of the Virgin, who +was looking when he found it.”</p> + +<p>“Oho,” says Lepsius, “but can’t I approach a +little and examine it?” The answer was, “No, the +irreligious could not approach it.”</p> + +<p>But the irreligious <i>had</i> approached it. Lepsius +could already make out two or three of the phrases,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</span> +could tell that it was mainly an imitation of the +hieratic of the nineteenth dynasty, mixed with some +intentionally secret writing; and, as he stared at it, +he mumbled on absently, saying, “Oho, one can +see, one can see, its date; and what is the meaning of +those marks on it, then?”</p> + +<p>“No one knows,” was the answer.</p> + +<p>“And yet you write over it, ‘Riches of Jerusalem’?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, for the prior discovered this much, that it +tells of the riches of the City of God.”</p> + +<p>“He was a learned man, I see.”</p> + +<p>“We shall not have another like him! a learned +and a saintly man. He made the stele the study of his +life, and mined out much of its meaning, for which +reason it is to be buried with him.”</p> + +<p>“Buried with him?” cries Lepsius.</p> + +<p>“Yes, by his own instructions.”</p> + +<p>“And when?”</p> + +<p>“To-night.”</p> + +<p>“Ah! At what hour?”</p> + +<p>“At eleven.”</p> + +<p>“And where?”</p> + +<p>“In the monastery.”</p> + +<p>But at this the more truculent of the two monks +stepped offensively before Lepsius, blocking his view. +The Galla warrior, too, who kept guard over the +corpse was eyeing him disagreeably, so Lepsius moved +off, and after sauntering through another room or +two, started off for the monastery-island, to be at once +afresh drenched through by the rain. Darkness had +suddenly come.</p> + +<p>As he now passed up the steps towards the monastery, +he made minute note of everything: a number +of boats lay close about the landing-place, with some<span class="pagenum" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</span> +monks baling them out; from a chapel some way off +he was aware of the chaunted vesper-psalm of the +nuns.</p> + +<p>After a repast with the new prior, a portly man of +middle age, he was conducted for the night to his +chamber, where for a while he waited, sitting on a +bed made of rushes mixed with raw cotton; but at ten +o’clock he got up and stole through his door. +Lepsius by this time had fully informed himself of +the minutiæ of the dead prior’s funeral, and had resolved +to pilfer the little stele.</p> + +<p>I think that I never knew quite so insolently +plucky a nut as this of Lepsius. His impetuosity +is extreme, and his tenacity is extreme; so that whatever +happens at any time to fascinate his mind fascinates +it in a quite unbalanced manner, to the banning +of every other concern in the world. When +this blessed stele had once seized upon his fancy as +a thing likely to prove a scientific find, his subsequent +action was so very in character, that I +shouldn’t wonder if he went stealing the thing, +about to be buried and lost as it was, with an overweening +sense of propriety, and perhaps, in setting +about it, whispered to himself the word “Science,” +or perhaps only the word “Lepsius”: I don’t know.</p> + +<p>But no man surely ever rushed into a job bristling +with dangers more horrid, for he was alone among +all those martial fanatics, and, save for a razor and +a penknife, if I am right, quite unarmed.</p> + +<p>He crept out of his room into a corridor and +down some steps, there being no light apparently in +that part of the building, though the place was full +of the sounds of busy footfalls and people passing +about with lime-torches; and when one of these approached +him at a rapid walk, Lepsius had to snatch<span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</span> +himself into a kind of carrel, only to find a monk +praying in it in the dark, who, at the sound of his +entrance, looked round and addressed him: Lepsius +droned some mutter in Amharic, and slipped out into +an alcove opposite.</p> + +<p>He knew very well that he had only to be noticed +prowling about in this way to set the whole place +in a hullabaloo, and no doubt bring on his instant +death; but the floors, covered with cocoanut-fibre, +facilitated his flights and escapes, and he contrived +to run the blockade to the landing-place. There his +ears were aware of a priest baling rain-water from the +boat meant to bring over the body of the prior, but so +deep was the darkness of the night, that nothing could +be seen a yard beyond one’s eyes. With elaborate +stealths Lepsius stepped down into a boat almost +swamped with rain-water, put out the oar, and paddled +off for the library-island.</p> + +<p>His hope, derived from certain answers already +given to his inquiries, was that the corpse might by +this time be less closely guarded, that he might thus +perchance be able to stretch a clandestine arm to the +stele, and then, hastening back with it, steal into his +chamber. But when with bare feet he had got down +into the underground corridor of the stele and corpse, +and had peeped into the prior’s room, there still lingered, +brooding, the armed Galla. Lepsius was the +last man alive to be baffled! He simply said to himself, +“Well, the other way, then,” went up afresh, +towed his boat away from the landing-stage, sat down +on a rock, and waited, his ear cocked to hear a sound +through the showering of the rain.</p> + +<p>Presently over the surface of the lake appeared +three throngs of lights approaching—torches made +of lime-wood saturated in spirits, borne by the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</span> +priests; and amid the splash of their oars there floated +forth the burden of a Coptic dirge. One by one, however, +these torches were seen to cower out, quenched +by the shower, and by the time the boats had reached +the library-island where Lepsius lurked, not one remained +burning. Upon this Lepsius had counted.</p> + +<p>The monks landed and entered the mosque.</p> + +<p>After some twenty minutes they returned to the +quay with rekindled torches, carrying the coffin: and +though the largest of the boats was a craft as big as +a Red Sea lugger, so overgrown was the size of the +coffin, that they were obliged to lay it crosswise over +the gunwales aft. Lepsius, himself unseen, could, +by means of the flickering torch-lights, see all. He +stole along the shore closer to the landing-stage. The +placing of the coffin was a longish task; and out into +darkness, one by one, cowered the lights, so that no +more than two remained burning when the first of +the boats pushed off, and the dirge was afresh lifted; +and when at last all the boats were abroad on the +water, the priests intoned in a complete darkness. +Lepsius was then hanging to the transom of the boat +which bore the coffin, she towing his length in her +track.</p> + +<p>He knew that in the monastery a rite had yet to be +performed over the prior; he had been told that the +corpse would then be exposed for the last time to +the looks of the assembled fathers; he was certain, +then, that the lid was not so far fastened to the coffin. +All he had to do was to lift his weight up on the transom, +raise the lid, whip the little stele from the dead +bosom, where he had been told that it would be, and +bolt with it into the building, to his bed. They +couldn’t see him; the chaunting should drown any +chance sound which he might make: and he felt<span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</span> +secure, save for one vital fact—he could not swim; he +would have to hang on to the boat till it came to the +monastery landing-place before he could attempt to +make his escape.</p> + +<p>Midway across, judging the moment come, he +raised himself cautiously up; one stiff arm held up his +weight on the transom, while with the other hand he +groped, grasped the lid, tried to lift it. Lid wouldn’t +stir: it was fastened.</p> + +<p>Another man might now, perhaps, have renounced +the attempt, not knowing what string next to pull; it +was in just such a plight that Lepsius was likely to +show fight.</p> + +<p>The man’s a born theorist: would never dream of +abandoning a conclusion based upon reasoning, because, +perhaps, appearances should happen to combat +it; and he had already reasoned that the lid was unnailed. +He raised himself still further, felt with his +hand over the surface of the lid, and was soon reassured, +seeing that the priests, in order to keep the +two pieces together during the passage, had tied two +cords of banyan-twine bodily about lid and coffin; +finding which, Lepsius dived into his pocket, took out +a penknife, and cut the cords, deeming that the +monks, when they saw the cords cut, the stele gone, +would set it all down to a miracle of God. By this +time the boats had floated the funeral-hymn pretty +close up to the monks’ home.</p> + +<p>Lepsius could now easily insert his fingers between +lid and coffin, and, on doing so, found what he +had opined, that the stele had been slung round the +dead neck by its string; so, manœuvring with the +fingers of his left hand, he managed to urge and win +this string upward from under the dead head: and he +had begun to draw forth string and stele, his fingers<span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</span> +being still within the coffin, when the poor man’s +stiff right arm, weary of his weight, gave way under +him with a shock, whereat he, in an involuntary movement +to check his fall, caught the coffin-rim. It was +a disastrous business: the blessed coffin tilted, and +slid with a sideward dive into the water, while Lepsius, +having clean lost his hold, found himself +adrown in the deep, as an outcry arose among the +crowd of monks.</p> + +<p>Lepsius splashed about, catching at the vacant air; +but even in the very plight and fix of his death his +reasoning mind was not drowned. He judged that +he must now be very near the monastery, so that if he +could find even a minute’s support in the water, he +might by such means manage some way to come at +safety; but the boats had forged on well away beyond +him, and there was no making out anything in that +thickness of blackness. There was, however, one hope—the +coffin: for, though he could not see, he knew +perfectly the course of its sideward dive, and it was assuredly +only the coffin, or the coffin-lid, which, if he +was to find salvation, could save him. He quite well +knew the science of swimming, though no master of +the art: so, taking care to keep his lips closed, he +made a few strokes, sinking and rising indeed, but +moving, and his strokes proved in the duly right +course, for very soon now he found himself on the +coffin-lid, the little basalt stele hanging still to his +forefinger by its string.</p> + +<p>Still awash and struggling, he began to urge the +board toward the shore. The hubbub of monkish +tongues had now come to land, while a number of them +had rushed out of the monastery, all carrying torches, +with outcries, so that the landing-stage was now in +a nice state of commotion. Lepsius, in the gloomy<span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</span> +deep, steered his struggles in a changed direction, +making for another spot of the shore, though he does +not seem to have known what he was to do when he +got there; but his feet touched bottom in a minute, +and at the same time he entered the region of the off-shine +of the lights, which showed up his white visage, +whereat at once a perfect hullabaloo of howls broke +out from the priests, and they all dashed forward to +catch him, foremost among them being the fierce +monk of the day-time, with his sword flashing, and the +new prior, and the huge black fellow.</p> + +<p>Lepsius scrambled up some rocks, and started slantways +away from the throng of lights toward a wing +of the building; and as the priests appear to have had +no firearms, it became an affair of darting, Lepsius +being a fairly nimble fellow, though, I fancy, without +any wind to speak of, and already very weary. However, +he reached the monastery-wall, and hastening +along it, happened upon a small doorway, into which +he darted, slammed the door, and was away anew +through darkness; whereat the monks ran round to +the front, and scattering there, rushed with rekindled +torches in all directions through the monastery, +scouring it for the fugitive.</p> + +<p>Well, a scene of sufficient wildness seems to have +ensued. Lepsius, divining that the monks would +leave the door which he had slammed in their faces to +fly to the front, ran back to the door; but his slam +had locked, he could not open, it. So back afresh he +turned, ran to the bottom of the corridor in which he +found himself, and now heard the sound of the onrush +of many runners. Happily, it was no longer a question +of legs and lungs alone, but of eager, quick wit +as well, and here Lepsius was in his element. He +saw that he could only rescue himself by hiding, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</span> +that he could only hide by continual wise movement. +On hieing thievishly up some steps he heard more +pelting feet behind him, but he had the advantage of +being in shadow, while his hunters were well lit up, +and away he went again, choosing his way with good +instinct; only, the priests had split up into such an +intricacy of pickets, that he should have possessed six +sets of wits to elude them. Still, he did for no little +while elude them, guided not only by their lights, but +by the sounds of the groups, their faint footsteps and +outcries: till on a sudden one of those aids was cut off—that +of sound—when out roared the abbey-bells, +drowning everything else. Just afterwards, he was +running down a corridor when behind him he saw +coming a bunch of torches; there was no harking +back this time; so, hoping to hit upon some door or +side-passage somewhere ahead, forward he sped, his +wind about done for now, and his wits all bewildered +and badgered by the loud bedlam and brabblement of +the bells throughout the building. At the corridor’s +end his course was stopped by a wall with what he +took to be a door in it, and a cocoanut tapestry hung +before it; there was no side-passage anywhere; the +door was fixed, and his hand, feeling behind the +tapestry, could find no handle; the throng of torches, +too, were now trooping down the corridor towards +him, and he thought himself dished and taken. However, +he found by touch that the door, too, as well as +the tapestry, was of cocoanut-fibre, not a door at all, +but a mass of matting fastened over an opening; and +inasmuch as the corridor was long, he had time to +snatch his shaving-razor and slash a rent in the +tough stuff, so that when the monks arrived at the +spot they must have been astonished (if they had +spied him) to find their man vanished. Lepsius says<span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</span> +that he next hastened over a species of bridge or hanging +gallery, at the end of which he hacked a hole in +another door, got himself through that as well, +and was away ardently again, no more caring whither, +through darkness, when all at once he was in the +very midst of a lot of people, of a flood of light, for +he had pitched through the doorway of a chamber before +ever he could check his flight. This chamber was +full of beds, for which the people in it must have been +making ready when the pealing of the bells had +flurried them; they were all women, as Lepsius saw +at once, all half-undressed, with their hair floating +loose; the two door-mattings through which he had +slashed his way were manifestly the doors which +separated the monastery from the nunnery; and at +the apparition of this white man among them, that +multitude of women whooped out one unanimous yowl, +which Lepsius tells me he is not going to forget. +Out they rushed pell-mell, clutching their garments +about them, he after them—with the grave consciousness +meantime in his eye-corner of a big floor-bed on +fire, for one of the calabash-lamps had been dashed to +the floor in the out-rush, and how the whole show, +built mostly of touch-wood, was not burnt to the +deuce was, he asserts, a wonder. After a little Lepsius +pulled up and listened: all was still—for the simple +reason that the priests would not at once enter upon +the part of the place sacred to the nuns, and presently +coming to a staircase, he sped down, and soon found +himself out in the open, unpursued. Running now +round the rim of the islet in search of a boat, he heard +all round about the shores a buzzing sound on the lake, +the cause of which he was unable to imagine, and +when, having found a boat, he paddled away, this +sound swelled upon him, until he was all in the thick<span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</span> +of it—a host of tongues hubbubooing, not in Amharic, +but in Ethiopic; not monks, then, but chiefs, or +<i>dejamatshs</i>, with their troops, who, at the call of the +bells, had come to beset the islet with a cordon of +boats; and Lepsius declares that he passed through +the thick of them, thanks to the darkness and the +rain, by something of a miracle. After this the banks +of the lake were not far off; and there, having made +rapid paces for the deeps of a forest, and presently +feeling himself safer, he dropped to the ground, giving +out.</p> + +<p>Toward morning, it being still pitch dark, the Englishmen +at Gondar who composed the mission were +startled by the bombardment of the place set apart +for their abode: for the priests and natives, failing to +find Lepsius, had posted northward to seek vengeance +upon the mission; whereat the British, in danger of +their lives, were obliged to barricade their doors and +defend themselves; and before the intervention of the +<i>ras</i> was able to reach the residence, three Abyssinians +were shot, so that this matter of the basalt stele had +something of a grim beginning.</p> + +<p>Not till six days later did Lepsius succeed in +coming up secretly with his comrades, after seeing +the lion and the hyrax, and a score of escapades; and +on the sixteenth morning they all started eastward and +coastward under an escort of the <i>ras</i>. The terror of +the anger of England was, of course, extreme at the +moment in the mind of the Negus and his Court, or it +might have gone ill with Lepsius and his companions. +However, all’s well that ends well; nothing graver +than threats came about, and Lepsius, having his +basalt stele, could afford, I suppose, to grin his grin.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II.<br> + + +<span class="sm">MOLLY O’HARA.</span></h2> +</div> + +<p><span class="allsmcap">Professor S. S. Reid’s </span> history thus continues:</p> + +<p>Well, I saw old Lepsius very shortly after his return, +when he showed me the little cylinder of basalt, +and related to me for the first time, not the last, the +details of his adventures. He was blithe and fit, if +a bit bothered in mind about the three shot +Abyssinians, and about the drowning of the aged +prior’s body, due to his rage of research.</p> + +<p>“And how about the stele,” said I to him; “have +you made out the meaning?”</p> + +<p>“I am going to,” was his answer.</p> + +<p>“I suppose it is worth the pains?” said I.</p> + +<p>“Reid,” says he, “it would be worth the pains, if +all the Orientalists in the world applied their wits to +nothing else than that one thing.”</p> + +<p>“What makes you think that?” I asked.</p> + +<p>“Well, but haven’t I already read part of the +thing?” says he. “True, it is no cartouche of +Darius, nor Rosetta-stone; its date can’t be earlier +than the thirteenth century, and not only is it the +oddest mix of Memphitic with hieroglyphs, but, what +is really remarkable, this Coptic stone is the record of +an Indian incident. Its comparative-philological +value will hardly be high, perhaps, but I am convinced<span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</span> +that, once deciphered, it will prove a priceless document +from the historian’s point of view.”</p> + +<p>Well, I wished him joy of his new toy, and we said +adieu for that time.</p> + +<p>Then for some few months I did not see much of +Lepsius, nor, I imagine, did anyone else of his world, +till his seclusion began to be remarked upon by one +and another of the gossips. “Where was Lepsius, what +was he pottering at at present, why the father of lies...?” +and so on. On three or four of the occasions +when I called upon him at his Hanover Square house, +I found him looking far from so well and sprightly +as usual, nor did the good fellow give himself the +pains to hide from me that I was somewhat heavy +upon him. I understood that he was in the grip of +a fit of study—a certain grimness of his looks and +gauntness of his face informed one of so much—and +that in that same little stele lay the secret of this too +great zeal. By this time the blessed stele had been +reproduced and distributed among the savants everywhere, +and it may be that a race was being run in +its deciphering, I don’t know; but one thing was +obvious, it made Lepsius lean many days, so that says +Matthews to me, “serves him right for picking and +<i>steling</i>, there’s some black spook in the basalt thing +that’s paying him back, and making him its victim”; +and, in truth, I never saw such a thing, for one by +one Lepsius threw every social, every scientific obligation +to the winds to give himself day and night to +this one object. Such, however, was the man: whatsoever +his hands found to do, he did it with a fraction +more than all his might or right. Then all at once +I learned that he had fallen ill and had gone off to +his castle in Galway, from which region, after some +weeks, he once only wrote me a few words.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</span></p> + +<p>On a sudden one morning, say ten months after his +coming back from Abyssinia, Lepsius presents his +old phiz before me, looking as brisk and light as you +like, with a smile on the thin lips. He had got back +from Ireland only the day before, and, after some +gossip, said I to him, “Come now, one can really +see that we have laid bare at last the secret of our +basalt stele.”</p> + +<p>“Do I look like it?” he asked rather sorrowfully.</p> + +<p>“So I thought,” said I.</p> + +<p>“Just failed, sir! just failed!” sighs he, tossing +up his hand.</p> + +<p>“Tell me about it,” said I.</p> + +<p>“That’s all I’ve got to say,” says he; “I’ve only +just failed. The epigraph, as you know, consists of +signs of very diverse dates, with a quite hierogrammatic +vowelling, but Memphitic aspirations, and +a jumble of true idiographs and true rebuses. Well, +within five months I had deciphered it all—every +syllable—save fifteen signs, making, I think, three +words at the very finish, which are purposely ‘secret’; +but, as it chances, those three are the important ones.”</p> + +<p>“That’s hard luck, certainly,” said I; “but why, +then, are these three of such particular importance?”</p> + +<p>“You know,” said he, “that the stele is the record +of an accumulation of riches heaped up somewhere +by a host of Hindu princes during the +period of the Mohammedan deluge—this where and +when is exactly what remains dark. Fix place and +date, and you have sextupled the value of your stele +as a piece of history, quite apart from the pile of lucre +in question, supposing it still to exist.”</p> + +<p>“Well, that’s tantalising,” I said. “Of course, +Thibaut has seen it?”</p> + +<p>“You may bet,” was his answer. “Who hasn’t<span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</span> +seen it? They have all seen it. But the fellows +<i>can’t make it out</i>! I question if any one of them +has read as much of it as I have. Reid, there’s not +one single living man who can do it!”</p> + +<p>“So much for stolen goods, then,” said I. “Still, +you seemed to me a good deal more like your old self +just as you came in, quite a youthful step and jaunty +air, I thought! so I made sure....”</p> + +<p>He laughed, saying, “Well, perhaps you are right, +for I <i>am</i> relieved, and I have reason.”</p> + +<p>“How do you mean?” I asked.</p> + +<p>“Look you,” says he, “I am going to read every +syllable of the writing on that stele.”</p> + +<p>“You said just now that you couldn’t,” said I.</p> + +<p>“I am going to, though,” says he, “for it can be +done, if not by me, if not by any living man, still +it can be done; and if I look relieved it is because I +know the means of doing it, and because, two nights +since, lying in my bed, I suddenly decided to use +them.”</p> + +<p>“Very good,” said I, swallowing my puzzlement; +“and what <i>are</i> the means?”</p> + +<p>“I am going, Reid,” says Lepsius, “to make a +man who will read the secret.”</p> + +<p>Quite at a loss to make out what the deuce he would +be at, no doubt I smiled, for he added quickly, “No, +don’t smile in that fashion, as if you hadn’t known +me until to-day, since I assure you quite seriously +that I can and will successfully accomplish this job.”</p> + +<p>“The making of a man?” said I: “those are your +words.”</p> + +<p>“The making of a man,” says he, “who will not +merely read the rebus, but do it without difficulty—without +effort.”</p> + +<p>“Quite so, Lepsius,” said I, “for though you<span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</span> +choose to express yourself in terms of x, I am +quite sure that in due course some explanation will +be offered by you of the matter which you meditate, +and of your meaning when you speak of ‘making a +man’ to read this stele.”</p> + +<p>“Lord,” exclaims Lepsius, “what a speech! How +sweet the smile, but how icy the meaning! as if I +were some rash, fantastic talker. No! at present I +haven’t the time to go into prolonged explanations, +moreover doubting Thomas ought to be tortured; +but in about four days I shall probably lay my plan +fully before you, when I shall have seen the initial +stages of it well under way: and meanwhile, I invite +you to take part with me in watching the accomplishment +of these stages.”</p> + +<p>“Where?” said I.</p> + +<p>“You come,” said he.</p> + +<p>“To the end of the world,” said I, “if you are +serious and scientific.”</p> + +<p>“I am quite serious and strictly scientific,” says he.</p> + +<p>Well, I went with him. First we drove to his club +in Piccadilly, where we took two seats at a window +to look down upon the passers on the pavement +beneath, as to whom Lepsius remarked that we might +have to keep an eye on them for two, three, four +hours, and—did I mind? “No, didn’t mind,” I +replied, feebly chewing my foolish feeling. However, +after half an hour of this watch, he changed his mind, +said that that was hardly the proper place for his +object, and suggested that we should drive to Westminster +Bridge, if I would. I should, I said: so +thither we drove, and there by the parapet of the bridge +we stood, under the July blaze of the sun, two hours. +I was at first simply amused by this open-air sentry of +two venerable persons like ourselves, then I became a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</span> +little vexed. However, I stuck to my task, while of the +river of people that passed by every one stared at us +two standing stupidly there, Lepsius speaking of +everything except of what had brought us into this +exhibition, mainly, I remember, of the necessity, by +a law of probability, that every variety of human type +should move past us within a number of time-units +equal to the number of type-varieties which exist in the +city. At last, when it was close on two o’clock, he +stopped suddenly in his talk, and pointed.</p> + +<p>“There, I think,” he says, “comes the right age, +the right race, the right trade, the right body and +being—the very lady.”</p> + +<p>It was a passing woman at whom he pointed, a +woman of the lower orders, with black hair, black +eyes, high cheek-bones, very cheaply dressed, but +not unclean, long in the leg, lean and fit, some +twenty-five years old. Her nose was not red, her +teeth were regular. She was going, under a heap of +soiled clothes, toward the Surrey side, and one +could make quite sure that she was an Irish +washerwoman.</p> + +<p>Well, Lepsius stepped out and addressed the +woman. She was startled! I heard her say, “Sure, +then, it isn’t me that has the time to be showing your +worship around the town this day.”</p> + +<p>I remained waiting at the parapet, absolutely astonished, +much amused, while Lepsius walked on +with the woman, talking pressingly, quite a confab, +one could see, taking place between them, he all +suave insistence, the woman curtseying, till, presently +turning, he beckons me to come. So I ran and overtook +them, to find them already fast friends; and +Lepsius effusively introduced me to “Miss Molly +O’Hara.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</span></p> + +<p>This woman turned out to be the heartiest, best soul +in the world, and in some half-hour we had won from +her the whole simple history of one who was orphaned +and friendless, save for a sister, a fruit-seller, who lived +at Ballihooly. In the course of our discourse it was +discovered that she had never visited the Tower, the +Crown Jewels, nor the whispering-gallery at St. +Paul’s, so we soon got from her an engagement to +meet us on the Bridge the next day, in order to go +with us to inspect these glories. She showed us the +slum and the house in Southwark in which she +occupied a room, and we parted.</p> + +<p>Well then, the next day, at one o’clock, behold +Molly standing in holiday garb with her landlady for +guardian, and the pair of professors before them with +doffed hats, like characters in an opera! We had +lunch in a restaurant, and I spent a pestilent day in +the “chamber of horrors” and other suchlike places, +winding up with a play in the evening; after which, at +about midnight, we sent our ladies home in a cab, and +Lepsius, coming back to my house with me, disclosed +to me that night the design that underlay his conduct +during the last two days, so that we were still talking +in my study when the dawn stole in. When I said +to him that I had well earned his secret, and asked +what in the world he meant to do with this Molly +O’Hara, his answer was, “I mean to make her read +my stele for me.” “Quite so,” said I, “but then, +Lepsius, you persist in speaking to me in riddles.” +“I mean to marry her,” says Lepsius.</p> + +<p>I was so startled, I couldn’t help crying out a +“No!”</p> + +<p>“And why not?” says the doctor coldly.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Lepsius,” I couldn’t help saying, half laughing, +and half shrinking with reproach, “this is +ridiculous, this is absurd.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</span></p> + +<p>“Ridiculous enough, certainly,” says he, “but +very far from absurd. We differ there.”</p> + +<p>“But, Lepsius,” said I.</p> + +<p>“Pooh, man,” says he, “don’t be excessive; +there’s no law to prevent me taking a female to the +altar, if I like, and, as to the particular lass in question, +if it isn’t the right of men like you and me to look +at facts in their true light, where’s the use of us? +Molly O’Hara is a better human being than I, you +may bet, with all my learning, sound from her top-knot +to her toes; I don’t doubt she will make a pretty +fairish wife—and a most splendid mother.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I never was so astonished,” I said.</p> + +<p>“That,” he answered, “is due to the fact that you +have not yet acquired a scientific interest in my motive, +for as soon as ever you have, your interest will quite +quash your astonishment.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I am all ears,” says I: “what <i>is</i> your +motive?”</p> + +<p>“You know, Reid,” was his answer, “that whatever +else I may or may not be, I am by nature an +educationist; the world calls me educationist, and with +justice, if a lifetime’s work and warmth are worth +ought; and you know, too, my notion that no son of +Adam so far has ever been educated, or been half +educated—that education is an affair of the future. +Well, my thought, cherished for many years, and now +brought to a head by this stele, is to turn out by +certain quite sure modes of education, a man, or why +not a woman? who shall be not so much a man as a +kind of—god. The methods, however, have to be +such, that I should not venture to employ them upon +another man’s boy, nor, unless the child were in my +absolute power from a very early age, would they be +of any use. You now observe where my Molly comes<span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</span> +nicely in: the first needful work for a man who would +build a mansion or a fane is to make sure that his +marble and beams are at least good.”</p> + +<p>“I see,” said I: “given fair materials to start with, +you undertake what you say.”</p> + +<p>“Aye,” says he, “and without so much as the +shadow of a doubt as to the result.”</p> + +<p>“What an enterprise!” I cried. “But as to the +means.”</p> + +<p>“The means,” says he, “will be simple enough, +being based purely upon the known fact that human +beings are what their environment makes of them. +We know that an English child, abandoned by its +guardians in China, will grow up, hardly a mental +Englishman, but a mental Chinaman: never by any +effort will he be able to row like a Cambridge-man, or +do business like a jobber; but he will, without effort, +make finer porcelain than could be turned out by the +life’s devotion of ten thousand Cambridge-men or +jobbers; it is a question of environment, of the mental +hue and house about you. Be sure that every brat +born into ancient Athens was straightway an artist, +and if children to-day were born into a world in which +everybody as a matter of course played violins with +perfect skill, then <i>every</i> average child would without +conscious effort be a pretty perfect fiddle-player—and, +indeed, <i>is</i> so in some regions of the Bas-Pyrennees. It +is a question of environment.”</p> + +<p>“Quite so,” said I, “and, if you add heredity——”</p> + +<p>“No,” says he, “let one get on; what I am trying +to tell you is that the faculties of a human child’s mind +and body can be made to stretch <i>a hundred miles</i>—almost +indefinitely—I half said infinitely—according +to the ideal, the standard and life-idea, that he finds +about him; and I should doubt almost any limit which<span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</span> +you chose to lay down to the possible activity, exactness, +and acumen of the human mind and senses; we +here are limited merely by habit, by the iron rod of +mean ideals. Primitive man in his atmosphere of +reindeer could run very like a deer; he had his +hound’s scent, could speed his spear with the sureness +of a machine—and without toil, that’s the point, without +dreaming that he did anything astounding. A +modern British child, abandoned in Africa to that +same atmosphere and life-ideal, would also run like +the devil, shoot like a machine, track like a dog; +born into a world of gods or godlike beings, he, too, +would in general be stretched into a god or godlike +being; if he believed that everybody about him could +read rebuses without effort, then he, too, would read +them without effort. It is an affair of environment.”</p> + +<p>“Quite so,” said I; “one has no difficulty in +following you so far, for even monkeys that have lived +long in an environment of men become manlike, and +get to do many things; so, given your ‘environment +of gods,’ your undertaking looks all in bloom. But +where, then, do you mean to find this environment of +gods? On the moon? In Venus?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, as to that,” says Lepsius, “surely that much +is simplicity itself. The environment may be real or it +may be merely imagined. A child placed in isolation +may be made to believe in an environment, a world, +which does not exist, and so long as he never comes +into actual contact with the imperfect world, and has +no suspicion that it is not a perfect one, you will have +all the elements of success: his life-ideal and standard, +his idea and atmosphere, will remain quite unaffected +by the actual world round about him; and having been +made to conceive man as a god, he will not himself +be vastly inferior to his conception.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</span></p> + +<p>“By George,” I cried, “I see what you are at!... +But, my friend, aren’t you preparing a nice +little shock for some poor devil of a child, supposing +he ever does come into contact with his actual, as +distinct from his fancied, environment?”</p> + +<p>“May be,” says Lepsius, with a shrug; “or may +be the shock will be to the environment, not to the +child—‘so much the worse for the coo,’ as old +Stephenson said; but really, Reid, that’s looking too +far forward for me; the practical point for us is to make +out the meaning of our stele.... Lord! it is broad +day, I’m away.”</p> + +<p>Such is something of the gist of my talk with this +radical mind that morning. I can’t recall a hundredth +part of his ratiocinations, but when he had finished +I was convinced. I made him stay till with our own +hands we had found and cooked some coffee on my +tripod, whereupon the doctor went home.</p> + +<p>As to the end of this business, I have already, under +September 13th, 1869, recorded the doctor’s marriage +with Molly O’Hara in the church at Lambeth. As +usual with him, Lepsius has given himself up heart +and soul to the grip of his caprice, the married pair +going off at once to his Galway castle, where, for the +past twelvemonth, they have lived. Some months +since I received tidings that Lepsius was in a fair way +to be a parent, and that he had then leased the island +of Shunter (one of the uninhabited islands of the +Hebrides), which he was busily preparing at a crazy +cost for the habitation of the child shortly to be born. +Now this morning comes the joyful news that a boy +was actually born about two weeks ago, and with it +the gloomy news that our poor good Molly is no +more. She died of milk-fever five days ago, and it +had been better for the good woman not to have<span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</span> +passed over Westminster Bridge just at that particular +hour of that day twelve months ago. However, so it +was to be. The fellow who is to read the famous stele +is to be named Hannibal ... etc., etc.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III.<br> + + +<span class="sm">THE ISLE OF LIES.</span></h2> +</div> + +<p>If what has so far been given by Professor Reid be +read as a sort of prologue, nearly nineteen years may +well be passed over in silence, till, patching artfully +into one a number of letters of Dr. Lepsius to the +professor, we watch what then befell. The doctor +writes:</p> + +<p>The bubble’s burst then. We two, Shan Healy and +I, have passed over to the island of Barra in the boat, +this being the first time for over seven years that I +have left the shores of Shunter; and at Barra we now +are, my head bound in a handkerchief, aching, and +this same fond Shan Healy looking as sad-hearted +as a man handed over to be hanged. We really lack +the grit for the moment to go to the mainland, or +to take any course to get the matter looked into. But +you, Reid, will do what you can at once. I am sure +the police should be disposed to take an interest in +it, if you can make them know the peril implied both +to the public and to the poor fellow himself. And there +can be no mistaking him! Middle-sized, swarthy, +kind of dusky sallow, blackened over cheek, chin +and lip by a bluish shade of hair which he would +oftentimes shave twice a day—he’s so mighty hairy;<span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</span> +and by the smile you should know the beggar—that +cruel smile which hardly departs from his +lips, and those dark eyes, with a glance, Reid, +just so wild and sharp, I assure you, as the glance +of the rupicapra gazelle. For the rest, no jacket, +rough shirt of bauge-like stuff—but where’s the +good? No police could ever get nigh him, I suppose. +He’s gone, perhaps he’s drowned—he may be, +I doubt it; but God knows. On the sands of the +little bay at the north <i>a lady’s handkerchief</i> has been +found; can’t tell how it or she came there.</p> + +<p>My friend, it was just on his nineteenth birthday, +the 21st of July, that, strange to say, it was to happen; +the day which I had long determined in my own mind +as that on which I should present him the little stele +to read.</p> + +<p>All was as usual the evening before; we ran the +usual race. For the past two years, you know, his +highest ambition in life has been to be able to beat +me at running—I, a poor old wreck of sixty-four years! +I believe that this was his great dream and hope of +glory. For four years an almost daily race has taken +place, and Mr. Hannibal has once or twice come +gallantly nigh victory, but has never won. Well, +at 7.30 p.m. this eve of his birthday, down he bounds +from his study, and stands in the castle courtyard, +waiting for me to come, with the impulse, I dare say, +to dart away pricking in his high health. The +climate of these Outer Hebrides is a great deal too +humid to be ideal; the ground is mostly of gneiss, +too shallow for much culture, so drammach, with +some barley, potatoes, and buckies, have formed +the main part of our maintenance, apart from what +provisions Shan Healy has brought over in the boat +from Barra once every four months. But on this thin<span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</span> +gruel my man has greatly thrived; is fully grown now, +having the shoulders of a man, but a shape as limber +as a Grace, sir, and about as supple as any greyhound +pup.</p> + +<p>Well then, aware that he is below waiting, I pull +myself together now, put a bit of go into my gait +and glance, and down I go to him; together we stand +at the gate of our little home—alas, for the last +time—my grey head reaching little higher than his +shoulder, Reid, for the old spine bows a bit now, +you know; and from the kitchen Shan Healy looks +up to watch the race for the thousandth time, while +away in the west the sun is going down all in a wild +of clouds and glories, as often in this wet place. The +sea is dead, just lapping the beach in a weary way; +the sky grey, with a curlew or two skirling under it. +It gives a little relief to live it over again....</p> + +<p>There then, we stand, ready to renew the old, old +trial of thews. You know that it has ever been my +policy to speak as few words as possible to this +creature, so now I only say to him, “Well, ready?”</p> + +<p>“Ready, sir,” answers my man.</p> + +<p>“Then one, two—<i>Three!</i>”</p> + +<p>We are away, he to the left, I to the right, the +goal of the race being a little flag-staff standing on +the sands to the north of the island, two miles off, +and so placed that the boy going over the east shore, +and I over the west, we should run about equally +far, the castle, our starting-point, being right at the +rim of a bluff of rock at the south of the island. A +very few instants after we start, we are quite hidden +from each other behind the saddle of the hill, which, +being all hard rock just by there, makes hardly any +record of the foot-prints of this part of the race. +So now, no sooner has my man lost sight of me than<span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</span> +I pull up, and pant, and wipe my old brow, and turn +back, just in time to catch a glimpse of the flying +heels of Asahel going thirteen to the dozen round a +corner—a sight, Reid, fit to make soft the eyes of an +artist at so much charm of form, and such a pelting +puissance of swiftness. Well, I imagine that you +have already heard the rest of the business, how I +climb back at my leisure to the ridge of the hill, where +Shan Healy makes me the wink which means that the +mare is ready, and how I descend to the bush in which +she is trained to await me without budging, and take +her quietly in my hand to the entrance of the tunnel, +where I mount and am away. You may be aware +that what we call the tunnel is a sort of gut or gorge, +which, half natural, and half due to my re-organisation +of the features of the island during the fellow’s +first youth, was specially arranged for the purposes +of this race. It runs pretty straight across the island, +from south-west to north-east; is thick with peat-moss, +so that hardly a sound of the mare’s hoofs is to be +made out in it, and is fairly shut in by bushes at both +ends. So, having galloped straight across to the +north-east end, I get off, give the mare her hint to +go back to Shan Healy, dive sharply and quietly +through the growth of leaves, and am off like the +devil afoot for the goal, only some seventy feet distant, +but still hidden from me behind a bluff of rock: and +as my right hand claps the flag-staff, with the wild +eyes of a hart Hannibal darts into view, to fling his +flying impetus at the post—a good half-minute or so +too late.</p> + +<p>No change in the smile, but a shadow now in the +eyes, and I know just how my man is meditating in +his head, thinking in himself, “It is so, then, that +‘Man’ can run, and how far beneath Him must <i>I</i><span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</span> +be, when this old being, who is one of ‘Man’ can +beat me, a youth, can beat me always and completely +at running and at all else”: for it was never so much +with <i>me</i>, I’m sure, that the fellow fought for victory +as with “Man,” those angels and giants inhabiting +the sunset of whose existence he knew, whom eye of +his had never viewed, at the idea of whom in their +lurid rule over nature his soul swooned with self-disdain.</p> + +<p>Darkness was beginning to fall rapidly, the winds +to pipe up a bit, as he and I together strolled back +homeward in silence all over the western shores, +upon which the waters were just moving themselves +to moan and spume. I willed it so always, for along +the eastern shores, where I was believed to have +passed, there was ever a certain absence of foot-prints! +And Mr. Hannibal often seemed to have the knack of +seeing in the dark.</p> + +<p>Have I done well? Have I done right? Never did +a question of that sort arise in my mind till within +the twelve months gone, when I have had to ask myself, +“Have I, who forgot nothing, forgotten one +thing—one thing needful?” God Almighty forgive +His faulty ones. I am an old man now, with the +back bowing down, and a head of white hairs, meekly +aware of my own weaknesses and achings....</p> + +<p>You know, my friend, something of the kind of life +that during eighteen years nearly has whiled itself +away on that island of delusion: like the shadow of +a vapour it is vanished now. Not without the sacrifice +of my career did I tackle it, Reid: but because of the +thousand eyes and the acrobat activities of mind by +which alone it could be accomplished, the years have +been so packed with interest, and have passed so +far from unhappily, that though the task has too<span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</span> +soon done for me, yet when I look back over them +they look to me more like two years than like eighteen; +and, if after all one’s travail, one could only be certain +that the work has been truly good, that one has not +somewhere mishandled and bungled, then one could +go to bed. Indeed, in some points, there need be no +fear as to the meeds of my toils, for in his intellectual +and physical features at least there breathes on the +earth to-day (if he still breathes!) the highest human +feat, a peerless being, at whose feet all the peoples +of this planet may very well kneel, and wail because +of him, crying, “Here is what we might have +been.”</p> + +<p>But oh, the web of imposture to which this being +owes his soul! He is the child of lies—and I am +his father. At <i>every</i> moment of his life, from the +age of four and before, the fellow has known my +mould. Nothing was left undone, nothing for me +was a bore, or more than I could afford. You know +that his books alone cost me a sum of more than +£14,000: for, owing to my purpose that his notions +of the soul of “Man” should grow from his study +of only the most glorious of human works, and owing +to the fact that even those works as they stood would +never do for those pure eyes, his whole library was +formed solely of purged volumes, specially prepared +for him, almost before he opened his eyes upon this +world; and when he was old enough to study them, +it was sown into his skull that only men made of very +poor stuff ever wrote books. And so in everything; +everywhere the same whip of deceit: the mass of +principles, for instance, which we call mathematics, +due to the shrewdness of fifty thinkers, adding and +adding, each of them, to the achievements of the past, +was for Hannibal, his books were so doctored, the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</span> +discovery of a single ordinary wit, a certain “Peter +Pitt,” who, as I had to give the lad to believe, lived +in the ancient ages. His study of history, above all, +was minutely nursed: wide, yet much pruned. The +story of the ingenuity, zeal, and success of masterly +adventurers like Alexander, Cæsar, Napoleon, he +knew by heart: but he had no suspicion of their chutes; +doesn’t even now know that Cæsar was assassinated, +nor that Napoleon was plucked down at last, so that +their victoriousness and force remain measureless +in his imagination. He knew well the proportions +of the pyramids of Shufu and Shafra, but he was not +allowed to know how many multitudes, nor how +many moons, were used to build them. And so on. +It was dropped into his ear at a very early age that +among men some few may be born with feeble bodies +and wits, that these are called “idiots,” and that poor +Shan Healy, who in reality is a rather sharp chap, +is one of the feeblest of these: so Shan has always +passed with us under the name of “The Idiot.” As +to myself, Hannibal now at the age of nineteen +cherishes, if he lives, a belief, ploughed into his brain +by ten thousand stratagems, that I can shoot like +doom, can swim like a fish, can run like a roe, can +watch like a dog, can see like an eagle; and that this +skull is the dome of all skill and of all wisdom.</p> + +<p>Frauds. But the outcome, I say, is (or was!) without +doubt a success, something of a success. What the +father feigned to be, that the lad was led to be. I +fancy that an average acrobat, after regarding some +of the pranks of this young man, would be asking +from what moon the beggar had gadded; he has a +damnable habit of chucking about little dynamite or +other bombs, which he turns out himself, and carries +in his pocket—five, ten times a day for years have the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</span> +curlews heard the burstings of this turbulent being’s +play—and I am pretty sure that any other runner than +he would long since have been shattered to the deuce +by it. As to his mere knowledge, it is of a vastness +which you would certainly call marvellous, though to +me, who know the cause of it, it is hardly so: for if, +for instance, he knows a good deal of most languages +from Japanese and the Dravidic dialects to Portuguese, +it is because he never, I think, forgets a word or +thing which has once come within his consciousness, +and so has learned a language within some weeks. +I remember to have heard it said that Lord Macaulay +could repeat word for word a book once read, a statement +the truth of which I beg leave to disbelieve: +but, even if true, his lordship differed from Hannibal +here, that Hannibal, I imagine, is not quite clear +with regard to the meaning of “forgetting”; I never +heard him utter such a word; certainly, he never +heard such a word escape <i>my</i> lips. <i>Forgetting</i> is, in +fact, mainly a loose habit into which humanity has +lapsed, for to observe vividly is to retain rigidly; and +Hannibal, with his over-manly mental habit, observes +each fact presented to him with a vividness which +seems to be pretty absolute.</p> + +<p>You will say, then, to yourself, my friend, that it was +a strange pair of men that paced by the seashore in +silence that evening, the eve of the young man’s nineteenth +birthday—old Jack and his young giant; +the giant in the meekest subjection to his Jack because +of delusion, as all a world will sometimes meekly lie +in shackles under the will of the weakest lie. My +thoughts as I walked were of the morrow, of that +dawn toward which for long years I had looked forward, +when I should hand over to Hannibal my old +problem of the stele to conquer for me, and I wondered<span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</span> +in what manner the young man would manage it. +Little doubt, however, had I as to the outcome, seeing +that I am even now about to compile into a book quite +a crowd of new scientific principles dropped from the +mouth of my man in the course of his studies, with a +thousand little observations about things in general, +most of them bound, I should imagine, to astound +you. So, then, that my man would read the stele I +could readily believe; but indeed, Reid, I was no +longer deeply interested in this miserable bit of a +stele; I’m afraid it is too true that my interest had +all shifted from the lifeless thing to the living fellow, +all too much so, all too much for my peace....</p> + +<p>Sometimes lately, Reid, I may avow to you, I have +stolen out of my room in the dead of night and stood +before his door, stood for hours, hearkening for a +sound; couldn’t at all tell you why—bound there somehow—and +I have shaken my poor head, saying to myself, +“No, surely, I have to cure myself of this folly: +a purely scientific interest in this savage, nothing +more”; but still I have stuck at his door.</p> + +<p>Do you understand that this boy is in some points +an idiot? It is only lately that the amazingness of +it all has struck and made me a wrecked man! To a +thousand throes and heartburns, learned in a thousand +social niceties by men who dwell with men, he remains +a stranger. The different ways in which one should +bend the mind toward one’s brother, toward one’s +mother, one’s friend, and so on, seem to be unknown +to him; I don’t know who is to blame. Never a little +tenderness, never a sign. I <i>couldn’t</i>, of course, bring +his mind into contact with the Christian faith from +the very nature of the case, the Man of Christianity +being a sorrowful type, while the Man of his fancy +was bound to be a type of power; so that the name<span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</span> +of Christ he has never heard; but his mind was presented +with such naïve nature-worship as that of the +Rig-Vedas, Genesis and Job: I thought that it was +well....</p> + +<p>But to return to this birthday-eve of his. We two +had made our way back together in silence, nearly +to the castle-gate, when out darts Shan Healy, wringing +hands and crying, “Oh, Master Hannibal, do forgive +me, sir, the glass pot has boiled all over, while +I was attending to the dinner”; whereat Master +Hannibal, without waiting to hear another word, threw +Shan out of his way, and rushed into the house, no +doubt to see for himself how the matter stood, for +he seems to have left some mess simmering in his +laboratory, had bid Shan look to it, and the thing +had had some mischance.</p> + +<p>“Now, here’s a go for a poor chap, doctor,” says +Shan to me, in great distress; “believe me, I couldn’t +avoid it, the thing boiled over so quick, and what’ll +Master Hannibal say now?”</p> + +<p>“Say?” said I, for I was angry, “what can he +dare say? Let him go to the devil, you couldn’t +help it, and I order you not to distress yourself in +the slightest.”</p> + +<p>“Ah, doctor, it’s all very well for you to talk,” +says he.</p> + +<p>Well, we went into the house, and Shan went down +to his kitchen; but I still hung about the bottom of +the stair, being a bit anxious as to what this being +might take it into his nut to do now about his blessed +chemical. All was still during some time, so +presently I called sharply up to him, “What are you +at, Hannibal?” No answer, no sound; only the faint +sounds of Shan’s preparations for dinner downstairs. +So now I ran very thievishly up the stairs, and peeped<span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</span> +into the laboratory, but he wasn’t there, and I can +only think now that at the sounds of my steps on the +stair, faint as they were, the monkey must have +passed out of the laboratory window, and slipped down +the turret by the ivy; anyway, the next thing that I +heard were Shan’s howls coming up out of the kitchen, +upon which I ran down, to find myself locked out, and +to hear within the kitchen the sounds of a head being +beaten against the ground, mingled with Shan Healy’s +exclaimings.</p> + +<p>Beside myself with anger, I pounded upon the door, +and now at once the row stopped, and in a moment +Shan opened, saying despondently to me, poor chap, +“Oh, doctor, he do use me cruel, sir, cruel, cruel, +cruel. Oh, my poor head—what does he think anybody +is made of?”</p> + +<p>My own head was hung with shame; I could do +nothing but silently pat my old companion on his +shoulder.</p> + +<p>“Where is he now?” said I.</p> + +<p>“Gone like a shadow through the window, doctor, +and down to the shore, the minute he heard you pounding,” +says Shan. “He held me down on the floor +with one hand, and with the other he banged my poor +head ... cruel, cruel. I shouldn’t mind if it was +done in a rage, but smiling as cool as a cucumber, +as if anybody’s head was a block of wood he was playing +with.”</p> + +<p>“Well,” I said bitterly, “all your own fault, Shan +Healy; you’re too faithful and good.” And I left +him there and went up.</p> + +<p>Well, I dined by myself, my fellow keeping culpably +aloof perhaps; and during the rest of the evening +I saw or heard nothing of him till, near ten in the +night, I heard some long way off the bursting of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</span> +one of his bombs. A gale was then raging, and it +had grown coldish, with that wet chill which marks +this part. So I went to seek a little sleep, but at about +three in the morning rose and went softly to stand +outside the observatory door, to see if I could detect +a sound of his through the row of the storm; and +as I so stood, to my surprise, he called to me, +praying me to enter. I did so, to find him sitting +at a window, looking out at all the dark strife of the +winds and waters, and at the bethundered bluff down +there below: whereat, without the least mention of +Shan Healy, my man began to blab about the moon, +which just then struggled through into a channel between +two cloud-bogs, saying that our globe, as it +seemed to him, might have been made a more suitable +place for living beings, if provided with two +moons instead of one. Being grum and out of sorts +at the moment, I told him not to trouble his small +head about that, that things were well as they +were, and I quoted dogmatically to him that “God +made two great lights, the greater light to rule the +day, and the lesser light to rule the night.” At +this my chap turns up at me a gaze of the greatest +astonishment, asking if I did really think that some +purpose of providing a lamp to the night had anything +to do with the birth and being of the moon. I +said yes, I did think so; on which he anew turns at +me a certain searching look of astonishment, and +murmurs something about not daring to question the +truth of my words, but that as a lamp the moon undoubtedly +appeared to be a failure, since she did not +shine most nights; sometimes shone for a short hour +only; sometimes shone uselessly during the day, but +left the night orbless—a rather mad sort of lamp—whereas +<i>two</i> moons with such and such parallaxes, of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</span> +such and such masses.... “Well, never you mind +that,” said I shortly to him, for I thought that I’d +better be mum as to the moon. But he was moon-struck +that night, and after saying that just as she +then was, near her full, but not quite, she reminded +him of “The Idiot’s” face when he had gum-boil and +swollen-jaw some years ago—for he’s as simple as a +baby in some respects, mind you, and many things +said by the boy that you might think said in fun, +are, in fact, quite grave statements, devoid of any +grain of humour on his part; for though he smiles +ever, he hardly ever laughs, so that one’s cheeks are +apt to puff out on a sudden with laughter at his words, +as at the artless freaks of a child’s remarks. Anyhow, +after likening the moon to Shan’s gum-boil face, my +boy goes on now to wonder for the thousandth time +how it is that his “Man” never managed to range +so high into space as the moon, for I had soon found +myself compelled to confess to him that man had never +yet landed on the satellite, nor did all the reasons +which I could adduce for this fact, such as the absence +of an atmosphere on the moon, and so on, ever suffice +to abate his wonder that the moon should remain unvisited: +for little did the man dream that even the +north and south poles of our own planet remain even +now all unknown, let alone the moon!</p> + +<p>Well, sir, he was thus droning to himself as to the +moon, and specifying the modes by which her surface +appeared to him attainable, when in a foolish heat of +tenderness I, standing behind him, let my hand fall +on the flesh of his neck, inside the broad flap of his +shirt-collar, and I allowed myself to murmur the word +“Boy,” about to say, “Boy, I am fond of you,” or +some such futility, when my fellow gave me such a +gaze of Arctic-cold astonishment—for sheet-lightning<span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</span> +and the strangled moonshine both beshone the darkness +of the room, so that one could see anon—such a +gaze, that I was glad to slip away to conceal the wet +in my poor eyes, and I went to sleep.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV.<br> + + +<span class="sm">THE SHIP.</span></h2> +</div> + +<p>The morning after, his birthday, on meeting him at +the breakfast-table as the clock struck eight, I observed +to him that he couldn’t have had much sleep: +to which, glancing up from his book, he answered, +“Enough for the needs of my nature, sir, I think, +though I was at work at four minutes before five. The +old have greater need of repose, it appears, while, as to +the young, the demagogue Cataline, it is written, +could dispense with sleep almost altogether.”</p> + +<p>“Oho,” said I; “well, let us be eating,” and we +sat to the old jug of porridge and oaten loaf.</p> + +<p>Presently, as we ate, I said to him, “By the way, +I want you now to understand that you are not to +knock my servant’s head about any more.”</p> + +<p>His answer was that he had discovered that such +occasional visitations had the effect of slightly +heightening the functioning of the idiot’s wit.</p> + +<p>“Never mind your discoveries,” said I: “you are +not to do it, sir.”</p> + +<p>“I will not, sir,” says he with his formal bow, and +buries his brow anew in his volume.</p> + +<p>I for my part could hardly eat, for I was uneasy +and excited, and my fingers kept on going to feel the +old stele, which I had in my pocket; so, fidgeted by +his cool reading and feeding, said I to him, “Didn’t<span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</span> +I beg you some time since not to be for ever eating +and reading together, since it is injurious to the +digestion, and there’s a time for everything, as the +mightiest minds among men well know.”</p> + +<p>“True, sir,” says my man, “you did speak to me +on this subject on the third of June two years ago, but +your words did not give me an impression of great +urgency, so I have dared to disregard them, since, +after all, the digestion of the young is hearty and +strong, and the days are hardly born but they are +fled, and it is hard to the foot to race after the fastness +of the horses of time; hence the greater masters, +the minds of white-hot ardour, like Cæsar, always delighted +themselves in the most entangled exercises, +like the dictating of a vast host of letters at once, so +as to harbour in their mood a habit of keeping pace +with the fleetness of the passing days.”</p> + +<p>“So true,” said I, “so true; still, it is as well not +to eat and read together; nor are you any longer so +‘young’ as you have been; you know, of course, that +to-day is your birthday.”</p> + +<p>“So I calculate, sir,” says he: “I have now +existed apart from the womb nineteen times as many +as three hundred and sixty-five days, less four; that is +to say, six thousand nine hundred and thirty-one +days, without counting some odd hours.”</p> + +<p>“Oho,” said I; “and how are you going to spend +the day?”</p> + +<p>“I am engaged in a chemical investigation, sir,” +says he, leaning back now, and balancing a plate on +the edge of his forefinger nail, for he always speedily +devoured his food, though with complete mastication, +I believe, and was generally done before I was +nearly through.</p> + +<p>“Ah, and what is the investigation?” I asked.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</span></p> + +<p>“You must have noticed, sir,” says he, “the agitation +I call it, with which bismuth acts——”</p> + +<p>“I know exactly what you are going to say,” said +I—God forgive us—“quite so; but look here, before +you go I want to show you something, something +that will amuse you; just read me that.”</p> + +<p>On a sudden now, Reid, the moment long waited +for had come, for I now caught the old basalt stele +out of my pocket, and laid it before him; whereat immediately +the fellow seemed to feel an interest in the +mere sight of this object, took it up, looked it up and +down and round about, smiling his smile, his brow +twitching into momentary frowns.</p> + +<p>“Why, sir,” says he suddenly, “where did you +come upon this stone?”</p> + +<p>“That’s not the point,” said I; “I got it in +Abyssinia, but that’s not the point; just read it.”</p> + +<p>“It is mainly enchorial and alphabetic,” he +breathes aloud, peering into the thing, “but with a +great number of syllabary signs, and vowel matres +lectionis——”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I know; read it,” said I, painfully conscious +within myself of being pale in the face.</p> + +<p>“Strange,” says he to himself: “both Sahidic and +Memphitic, but mainly Memphitic——”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I tell you, I know,” said I; “read it, read +it, boy.”</p> + +<p>He hesitated, sir, and I felt growing within me an +agitation almost too great to be any more restrained.</p> + +<p>“Have <i>you</i> read it, sir?” he suddenly asks, raising +his eyes to my face; and I was foolishly conscious +that my eyes drooped before his, even as in a tone of +protest I answered, “Why, naturally! I only give +it to you as a little exercise to amuse you; just read +the whole thing right off.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</span></p> + +<p>Now, sir, he puts the bit of a stele on the table, and +he bends his brow studiously over it, supporting his +head between his hands.</p> + +<p>“Seven of the words are purposely secret,” says +he to himself; “it is not an easy cypher....”</p> + +<p>“Well, I know, I know that,” said I, deadly +anxious now, “that’s why I give it to you—for a +little fun on your birthday; just read it off, boy, to +please me.”</p> + +<p>“Ah, I see,” says he all at once: “this whole half-line +is a long rebus or pun; the sound of each ideograph +combines with the third following to form a +word: that is clearly the idea of the inventor; I can +trace his thought; I see. Oh, it is not difficult, sir!”</p> + +<p>“Good—very good,” said I; “then just read it +right off, and go up to your science, boy,” for I felt +my face growing white with excitement, seeing that, +in spite of his brave words, the man’s manner showed +some hesitation, and lower and lower bent his head +over the thing.</p> + +<p>“A moment, sir,” he murmurs, “one moment; +your servant is slow and dull, but”—something; and +another minute went by in a silence that was most +bitter to me to bear, till, all in a scare, I called to him, +“Well, but haven’t you done it <i>yet</i>?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir, I think——” he falters.</p> + +<p>“Then read it!”</p> + +<p>“In Coptic?”</p> + +<p>“In English.”</p> + +<p>Now, very deliberately, my man begins to utter +syllables, his brow between his hands bent low down +over the symbols, and, syllable by syllable, says he, +“It is graved on a golden brick within the grave of +Arunzebe, that when the white strangers from over the +Great Hill came with fire and warfare, then did eighty<span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</span> +princes bear together their braveries for safety, and +they heaped them into the grave of Arunzebe. Even a +spirit (<i>nat</i>) could scarce penetrate to their secret place, +nor could a rain of men, straining through many days, +attain to them. There is the Silence that annihilates. +Let no man strive to visit them at——”</p> + +<p>There my man stopped short. “At,” he repeated, +but couldn’t go on, and there in the shameful silence +he sat now frowning into the thing with a sort of +haughty, excruciated self-surprise, but without progress.</p> + +<p>“Well?” said I, and my looks, I know, were +ghastly, for all that he had read of the thing I, too, +long ago had read, though I admit that it had cost +me some few months of effort.</p> + +<p>“At, sir,” says he, more to himself than to me, +“at—something; fifteen other ideographs remain, +making three words, I am certain. But they are without +determinatives, and their outlines are so blurred, +they bring no meaning, no meaning—to my mind; +they seem to belong....”</p> + +<p>“Better say at once, Hannibal, that you can’t read +the epigraph!” I cried out.</p> + +<p>“<i>You</i> have read it, sir, no doubt?” says he for the +second time with, I fancied now, just a touch of +scepticism somewhere.</p> + +<p>“Why, naturally, boy!” I cried, with such a noise +that, at the moment, I almost believed it myself. +“Can’t <i>you</i>, then?”</p> + +<p>“It is strange, sir,” says he, “it seems to contain +<i>htar</i>, and the old verb <i>secha</i>, to write.... Pray, +bear with your servant a little, sir, I shall read the +words, I see clearly that I <i>can</i>, if you will only vouchsafe +me a little time—down by the seashore.”</p> + +<p>“Time,” said I, with some disdain; “why <i>time</i>?<span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</span> +The human mind should strike and divide like the very +scythe of the lightning!... And how much time?”</p> + +<p>“If I may have half an hour on the shore, sir,” says +he, rather down-heartedly, and as I knew that his +mind usually rose to the height of any problem which +bothered him with a lighter spring down there amid +the droning of the waves, I said nothing when he took +up the little stone, and passed out through the door. +And so, Reid, we parted without one last clasp of the +hand after nineteen years, for that was four days ago, +and neither Shan nor I have since seen him. He is +gone, he is no longer on Shunter, that is our one +certainty: he may be drowned, or he may be living, +but on Shunter he no longer is, I’ll vow. After waiting +in suspense an hour, nearly two hours, for him to return +with the basalt stele, I despatched Shan Healy +from the castle to seek him over the shore, and to command +him to come back to me. When Shan was gone +on this errand, I took my stand at a window, looking +anxiously out over the eastern shores and over the +rolling ground of the sea: and while there I chanced +to catch sight of a schooner, about the size of a dove, +some two leagues to eastward, breasting southward +through that gaudy kind of haze that shrowds with +a gauze of azure the bridal and gala glances of the +brighter days on these islands. But little did I heed +her then, nor to this moment do I know that she had +anything to do with the vanishing of the young man. +Meantime, Shan did not come back, Hannibal did not +come back, and at last, angry and anxious, I ran out +of the castle, and had got some half a mile over the +western shore before I encountered Shan Healy dashing +back to the castle in a white heat, with a wild +countenance, hardly able to gasp out the words, +“Found this, doctor,” as he paraded before my<span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</span> +marvelling gaze a paltry square of cloth and lace, a +lady’s handkerchief, marked with the initials +“R. V.,” and tainted with some effluvium of stale +perfume. That thing on Shunter shore! My heart +failed me, Reid: for the young man’s notions of female +man had so far been gathered only from certain Greek +and Egyptian urn-traceries, meagre things; and I +thought that if eye of his had indeed fallen that morning +upon the carnal fact of womanhood, then it would +be small wonder if all were lost, and his parting from +me an everlasting parting. For fourteen years, so far +as we know, no human foot but those of us three has +passed over those peats and marshes of Shunter; no +spar nor oar has approached within even half a +league of its shores; but when Shan and I had run +together to the little harbour at the north, where the +bit of a flag-staff stands, we found the boat empty +of the two pairs of half-tame <i>motacillæ lugubres</i> which +had made nests in her, and half-way down to the edge +of the low tide I found the sands much trampled. +Unknown to us, some craft had put in there, had +anchored, and had departed, perhaps taking with her +what far surpassed the understanding of those on her. +Shan and I, having separated, searched each of us +one of the promontories which enclose the harbour +like claws, since, being dark with growths of bush, +they seemed worth the searching: and on the east side +I found, far out toward the last rocks, a track of footsteps +going down to the sea, going, alas, without +return: and they seemed to me, though I could hardly +be certain, rather like the track of sandals than of +boots, in which case he may have chosen that place +to swim off to the craft in the harbour, so as to stow +himself away below—I don’t know. If so, it is remarkable +that he should have acted in that fashion.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</span> +At first we fancied that, maddened by the sight of man +and woman, the boy might have started to swim to +Barra, and have been destroyed by a shark or a +narwhal <i>en route</i>. But we are still quite in the dark +as to the actual truth. Shan afterwards discovered +half a bon-bon—a bitten bit of chocolate—amid the +kelp on the shore, and no more know we of it....</p> + +<p>Such, then, is the close of our eighteen years of the +cloister on Shunter. Without a message of good-bye +to his father the boy is gone. But, after all, I should +have known beforehand, I should have guessed: for +latterly he has been most museful, given to porings +over the ocean through half a night, with more, perhaps, +going on in the soul of him than I had any +notion of, for we least of all see and know those that +are nearest us, Reid; we see their faces and only fancy +that we see themselves. Anyhow, it is all passed +and over now; the little castle that was our home, +that I had grown to love, and hoped that he, too, +had grown to love, stands now lone through grey +days, and darkling through nightlongs of thunderous +weather without us: for, as I have told you, we have +passed over to Barra in the boat, we two and the dog, +and the poor mare and cows and goats will go hungry +now, no doubt, or will soon grow to the humour of +the guillemots and herring-gulls on the crags, and +become sea-things, goblin of eye, like the tangles of +kelp on the shore, or the stench of the ocean’s throat, +or the pools remote from the foot of men with little +bleaks brooding in their green glooms, or the inclemency +of gales that gather over this sea. I tell +you truth, man, I am sad, for nineteen years of life +is not nothing, Reid. The young man’s gone, and +how he is going to adjust himself to the world, and +how the world is going to manage to adjust itself<span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</span> +to <i>him</i>—God only knows. His books will become +covered with particles of peat now; our little garth, +with its darg of peat heaped in one corner for our +fire next winter, will hearken now no more, alas, to +the echoes of our passing; our little garden will grow +wild; and Shunter will forget the unlasting foot of +man and boy, to go back anew with joy to the largeness +and boisterous ocean-mood of her past, and the +charm of her harsh old solitude. To-morrow, I hope, +we shall be able to take boat to Uist, and so to the +mainland, but I’m not sure, this poor Shan Healy +is so beastly seedy and down in the mouth ... etc., +etc.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V.<br> + + +<span class="sm">“MISS EVE.”</span></h2> +</div> + +<p>At this point the statement of Dr. Lepsius becoming +devoid of interest for us, we may next take up that +of one Jeanne Auvache, where she writes (in French, +with no eye to <i>us</i>, but quite for her own behoof):</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>... The next (Tuesday) morning, near nine, the +yacht anew dropped her anchor within the claws of +a creek in an island called Shunter: for the weather +was fine and the sea smooth, so Miss Ruth and +Miss Eve, each wishing to seek for more dolomites, +weeds, and other suchlike things of the sea, and to +place their feet on still a new shore, were pleased to +land. I had already massaged, bathed, and coiffured +Miss Eve, brought the two ladies their chocolate, and +now had sat to costume yet another doll for Miss Ruth, +when Miss Ruth comes to give me to know that she +is about to go to land, and suggests that that should +amuse me to come too with her: for she is ever good, +as befits one who has the reputation of a saint, and +who feels bound, no doubt, to keep it up. As for me, +I little believe in saints, since all beings are as alike +as two drops of water, the one to the other, at bottom—all +save one, perhaps; and though it is a thing +hardly to be questioned that, if a true saint does live, +then it is this Ruth Vickery, still, I little believe<span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</span> +in saints, I. Nor is it such a great matter that Miss +Ruth should do me these little graces and goodnesses, +inasmuch as I am not really her maid—I am the maid +of Miss Eve—and not bound to be for ever sitting +down dressing dolls for the brats in the hospitals of +London; and if it were merely Miss Eve, I should +have very little to do through some hours of the day: +but Miss Ruth finds ever some charitable work to +which to bind me down, and if thou wert now so +young as thou once wast, it is not thou, Jeanne, my +cherished one, I think, that would long endure this +demure quietude and existence of a recluse. But +patience, do not yet despair; thou hast been beautiful, +thou hast been loved! Yes, and now, it appears, thou +art anew beloved. It was not, then, all in vain that +I have lived, and the world may not be altogether +so dirty a bog of egotism and rotted dogs as I have +lately grown to regard it. Heavens! that is droll—I +feel myself anew young! The sky looks bluer, my +feet would be almost dancing, and I am no more +morose within myself at everything: for with a few +touches of art there is nought which may not yet be +hidden, and it is as if all the mirrors had of late +years conspired to make me appear to myself plainer +than I really am, since, as a matter of fact, I find the +flesh under my jaws yet firmly plump, my eyes glow +as gaudily as a girl’s, their creases have existed +chiefly in my fears, and each day I appear to myself +to grow more fit to please.</p> + +<p>But how little does one know what is before oneself! +The boat had been already lowered down into the +water when, having put aside the dressing of the dolls, +I went up on deck and saw Miss Ruth, Miss Eve, Lord +Astor, Miss Savage, and Monsieur le Comte de +Courcy ready to descend to go to the shore, though<span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</span> +Mr. Vickery did not go to the shore, but abided on +the ship’s poop perusing his big Bible through his +glasses. When we had come to the shore, the ladies +were taken out of the boat both by the sailors and +by the gentlemen, and Monsieur le Comte de Courcy, +one may be sure, took care to be he who lifted out +Miss Eve, while, as for me, I was left to be taken +out by a mariner who, in doing it, embraced me, I +think, with intention. In the boat it had been said +that the island was uninhabited, but, to our surprise, +we found a “coble” or sail-boat, with a brown sail, +with the rags of a philibeg, and with a pair of the +sort of shoes which they call “brogues” in it, lying +in some bushes; also a little inland, on some waste +land over which many peewees and moorfowl were +chattering their screeches, we found the ruin of a long +shed, built of loose stones, with a roof of turf; also +on the sands a sort of post or flag-staff: all showing +that there were, or had once been, people on this +place. On the shore the party split into two parts, +Miss Ruth and Miss Savage marching off one way, +and Monsieur de Courcy and Lord Astor following +after Miss Eve as insects infest a feast of sweetmeat, +while I was left to wander as I would. I therefore +walked alone over that claw of the coast which was +to the left as one looked toward the sea, where I +paced in shade over a species of peat between bush +and briar, which was deep on either hand, though +little higher than my head, with thousands of gulls +and whaups whistling and crying together in the air +around me; and meantime, whatever seemed rare or +strange, such as a weed or a piece of flint, I picked +it up to keep for the ladies’ pleasure. In this manner +I was engaged, waging war on the fog of midges that +sang and stung my face, when, at a place where the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</span> +glow of the morning’s sun was quite extinguished +under the shade of the bush, I all at once felt within +myself the instinct that two great eyes were regarding +me from the darkness of an ambush. I sprang up +from my stooping with affright! And it proved no +fancy, for there, a yard before and to the right of +me, I beheld, yes, two ardent eyes, glowing huge +and close to the ground, it might be those of a tiger +crouching, only that they were as dark as night. No +second glance I gave, but with my heart in my mouth +ran my hardest back toward the sands, awaiting at +every instant the devouring teeth of a beast in my +rear. Nothing, however, pursued me, and at length, +seeing this, I halted, even ventured back a few feet, +peering forward: for I have never lacked bravery, I, +and am not to be terrified by a mere pair of eyes like +that; but I could now see nothing, though, as I stood +peering, my ear seemed to catch through the leafage +not far from me a sharp rush which afresh had the +effect of putting me to flight. However, I was about +once more to stop to pry round, when the whistle of +our boatswain sounded to summon me, and I ran +down to the boat, where I found all our party already +come back to embark.</p> + +<p>When the ladies had been again placed in the boat, +and we were all again on the water making toward +the yacht, Miss Ruth, noticing my looks, remarked +to me, “Why are you so pale?” and I then related +to them my adventure in the dark of the bush, how +two eyes had glared strangely at me from the ground, +and had scared me. At this all the talk stopped short, +and no small astonishment was shown at my hap: +for all had thought that the island bore on it no form +of life except those of the smaller sea-fauna, as sea-birds +and suchlike, so that, in short, I was the centre<span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</span> +of the interest of all the world for a while, and every +eye looked toward me. Miss Savage took the view that +it must have been my “fancy,” but I at once quashed +such a notion by a gush of assurances, whereat +Monsieur le Comte de Courcy gave his opinion that +it was the eyes of “the genius of the place” which +I had seen, Lord Astor thought that they were “the +eyes of Hermes searching the island for the nymph +Lamia,” and Miss Eve believed that “more of inhabitants +crowd in the village than count in the +census; each grove harbours its ghost, heart-sighs +and eyes are about——” in the midst of which argument +the boat reached the yacht, and at once our +anchor was tackled, our canvas thrown to the breeze, +and we started out upon the last part of the voyage, +no more to tarry till our craft should be at her buoy on +the coast of Scotland.</p> + +<p>Well, now, I come to the event: I am about to write +it! During the hours of the forenoon I had been +mainly bound down to the dressing of Miss Ruth’s +dolls; during those of the afternoon I had found my +hands full enough with the making ready of the +trunks, and with the thousand other little last cares +that crowd upon one before a disembarking: and it +was now evening, about half-past eight o’clock, when, +passing out of Miss Eve’s apartment, I went in a +hurry round into my own to get and bring out her +older brown gown. My wee apartment was quite in +darkness; I was able merely to see the circle of my +window, near under which, it being on the lee-side +of the leaning ship, one was able to hear like a dirging +the seething of the sea’s surge sweep by toward the +rear. So now I reached out my hand to switch on +the light, and at that moment it was that it came upon +me, while I, in a blue affright, gave up everything,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</span> +recommending my soul to the good God, for it was +as if thirty-six<a id="FNanchor_1" href="#Footnote_1" class="fnanchor">[A]</a> tigers flung their weight against me, +and in the very same breath, as it seemed to me, I +found myself lying on the ground, my feet bound together, +and my mouth gagged with my apron; and +so instantly were all these different performances done +to me, that I understood, I remember, that I must be +under the power of at least three ruffians. Heavens, +that moment! I lay as it were given over and +drowned far down in the gloom of the tomb, and I +said within myself, “Jeanne, thou art finished now,” +for one could not catch one’s breath, nor cry out, +nor see anything! However, by a cunning move—for +I was ever astute and deep in an extremity, I, and +not to be done for so easily like that—I managed to +jerk myself sharply upward a little, remembering that +the switch was just above, and by a feat of luck my +free arm, reaching wildly up, chanced to touch this +switch, upon which the apartment was flooded with +light, and I saw, to my bewilderment, that my +tormentor was not many, but one. At once I had +a sigh of escape and of regained hope, for though +his right hand still held the gag, I could understand +at the flash of the light that it was not a butcher, +but a suppliant, who knelt at my side; and at once +with that flash of light his lips were passionately at +my ear, panting words so warm and queer, that I half +questioned whether I heard him well when the young +fellow whispered wildly to me that he knew that I am +a woman and wanted me for his wife. Heavens! +of the two surprises of my situation here was the +greater! For I could scarce believe that he was jeering +at me, seeing that he gave utterance to his words +with so earnest a <i>naïveté</i>, so that I wondered whether +I had to do with a lunatic! And even in the thick<span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</span> +of my fears, I was so pierced with a feeling of the +queerness of the young man’s remark, “I know that +you are a woman,” that I had to laugh within myself! +for I was suddenly light-hearted and relieved in that +he wanted me to be his wife rather than to be his +victim. Again he made me hear his demand in a +pant at my ear, this time with a glance in his gallant +eyes which made me afresh apprehensive, and gave +me to guess that the penalty of hesitation might be +grave; so with my finger I now indicated the stuffing +in my mouth, whereat he told me to nod my yes or +no, so, to humour him, I nodded yes, I would wed +him! He now demanded of me a vow that I would +not betray him “to Man” (as he said), till the ship +should come to land, and this, too, I vowed with movements +of my head and with my uplifted hand. But +little did he trust me! for, on releasing me, he flew +to the door, and had it secured before I was yet even +on my feet. We then stood staring the one at the +other, both bosoms labouring, and during some +moments my tongue seemed to be unable to dare to +address this being, till on a sudden I said to him, +“But you are deranged! Who, then, are you?” to +which his answer in the lowest whisper was that he +was “Hannibal Lepsius.”</p> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a id="Footnote_1" href="#FNanchor_1" class="label">[A]</a> Anglicè: a dozen, a hundred.</p> +</div> + +<p>“Little that imports to me, your name,” said I: +“I wish to know, since you are not one of the ship’s +company, how came you here?”</p> + +<p>His answer was a whisper at my ear that I already +broke my vow, since I spoke loudly enough, he said, +to be heard by everyone throughout the vessel; but +that since he was now certain that he was more powerful +than I, therefore he would throw me down, and +bind me anew, if I betrayed him “to Man.”</p> + +<p>At this I stood scared, half-laughing within myself,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</span> +for I seemed to have to do with a quixote or one +crazed! but because of the beauty of his young face +and form, and of some <i>naïveté</i>, and of some power, +that was all about the young man, I could not be cross +with him, for I declare that in some way he at the +same time touched my soul with compassion, with +mockery, and with awe of him, so that I craved at +the same moment to become his mother and his love, +his protectress and his slave. Something odder than +anything in the world—in his looks, his words, his +being—widened my eyes with the wondering of a +babe, and made life a new thing to me ... he had +sandals on his feet, a belt, no jacket, no hat ... he +seemed to me fleet enough to leap up and fly with +pinions. At this menace of his to bind me anew I +said to him, “But you must have taken leave of your +senses, as it seems to me! for I spoke scarcely above +a whisper, which no one could possibly hear.”</p> + +<p>As I said this, my young man, without saying more, +drops on a sudden down, with his hands outstretched +to me: and when I said to him, “Well, what now?” +his answer was a prayer not to be untrue to him, but +to hide him “from Man” and be his wife!</p> + +<p>I laughed anew at this within myself! for he seemed +to be blind to my forty-one foundered summers, and +the flowers that withered in them, he a youth of hardly +twenty years. So I said to him, “Get away with +you, for you are crazy; how do you know that I am +not already a married woman with a husband?” on +which he told me very secretly that in any case he +believed it to be possible that he should be able to +make me one of “the most sovereign of ladies,” and +with that he presents me with a piece of stone, resembling +an ink-bottle, saying to me, “Read that.”</p> + +<p>“What is this now?” said I, turning the thing<span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</span> +round in my hands, since I could see nothing to +read, only some holes cut in the stone; upon which +he repeated his demand that I should “read” it, telling +me that it was partly in Coptic and partly in—some +long expressions which I did not comprehend.</p> + +<p>“I know nothing of this,” said I to him, handing +him back the piece of stone, whereat he peered +piercingly at me a moment, and then all at once a +light seemed to dawn upon his mind, and he rose +up from his knees saying to himself, “I thought so.”</p> + +<p>“Thought what?” said I to him, but to this he +made no reply, only smiled upon me.</p> + +<p>He gave me an impression of some young god gone +mad! “You are hardly very polite,” I said to him, +“and another woman might think you a little crazed, +since at one moment you crave to be my husband, +and at another moment you smile upon me as upon +some ninny,” to which he replied something about +being bound to adore me, ninny or no, inasmuch as +I am so adorable!</p> + +<p>“Why, get you gone,” I said to him, “you have +hardly had time to see me yet!”</p> + +<p>He asked me how much time was necessary, and if +he had not gazed at me through the bushes?</p> + +<p>“Those, then, were your eyes that gazed there at +Shunter through the bushes at me?” said I; “and +you found me beautiful? What, then, could you have +found so very beautiful about me, my face, or my +figure—or both?” to which he replied, “Both.”</p> + +<p>“And do you mean,” said I to him, “that it was +merely through love of me that you concealed yourself +in the yacht? What a sudden flame of passion! +But I am at a loss to know how you could come +here!” on which he explained that he had swum under +water from the shore.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</span></p> + +<p>“But how could you possibly steal down here without +being seen?” I asked him, to which he replied that +“that question of itself charged me with a drowsy +consciousness.”</p> + +<p>His little smile of a superior man (<i>petit sourire +d’homme supérieur</i>)! “Well,” said I fondly to him, +“you, for your part, are of a wakeful consciousness, +and I, for mine, am beautiful both in face and form, +is it not so? and it is a pair of us, is it not? But +since we are now about to come to land, tell me +this——” but before I could utter another word I heard +the call of “Jeanne,” and was recalled by it to this +world. It was the voice of Miss Eve who called me, +and ere I could find my tongue to reply she called +again, “Jeanne, where are you?” but I could not +answer her, my eyes were fixed upon the boy, who +now appeared lost in a joyous attention to the call, +and with his finger held up gave deep into my ear +a whisper of “Sweet voice.” Whereat I, being a +little perturbed, turned from him, switched off the +light, whispered him to await my return there, and +went out in haste to Miss Eve, wondering within myself +how in Heaven’s name I was now to restrain +him from making the acquaintance of other ladies.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI.<br> + + +<span class="sm">THE TOWERS.</span></h2> +</div> + +<p>Jeanne Auvache thus continues: It all went beautifully, +the landing. He had the wit, on appearing +suddenly, to take upon his back the trunk of Miss +Eve, which he bore over the pier to the little station, +and in the dimness must have seemed to the sailors a +porter, and to the porters a sailor. He did not see +anyone in the light of the station, save a stationmaster +in his uniform, and I praised Heaven that +the train was a special one which carried none save +our party. As she moved, he ran from the outer dark +to the door of the compartment in which I stood +beckoning him, and skipped in beautifully, so that +we two went quite alone. Ah, but he trembled—all +the way, so that one could see his jaws chattering +anon. When I kept on saying to him, “But why +do you so shiver?” he confessed to me that he felt +fear. “But fear of what specially?” I asked, and +when I pressed him he replied, “of Man and of my +father.” I compassionated, but could scarce comprehend +him, and I felt myself abashed and banished +from contact with his soul, for though we were side +by side, yet he was alone, and I was alone. I could +only console myself with the thought that I had to +do with an <i>ingénu</i>—a beautiful fault soon enough to +be cured. But such an <i>ingénu</i>! one dropped down<span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</span> +from the moon, as it looked to me. His curiosity +about the train! for, to begin with, it was his terrors +and tremblings that were uppermost, and then it was +his curiosity struggling with them. His eyes were +wide with an amazement which at first I took to be +the natural amazement of a rustic suddenly plunged +into the thick of the wonders of civilisation, until I +learned that his amazement was not at the speed, but +at the slowness, with which the train was creeping! +This caused me to laugh within myself! “Why, we +must be flying at fifty miles an hour,” I said to him: +“how much more do you wish?” But he did not +appear to pay much heed to my statements, and continued +to rush about the compartment, touching this +and that, now springing up to peer into the lamp, now +darting down to lie and pry under the seats, gazing +into the make of the window, tapping the woodwork +with his fingers, all with so eager a zeal, my God! +with the omnipresence of a monkey imprisoned in a +crib, and trembling all the time with excitement, as +I could see. What most of all amazed him was the +size of the train! Why, he wished to know, was this +particular train so miserable a thing, seeing that its +largeness could be vastly increased with only a paltry +increase of the motive force. “But are not all trains +of the same size?” I said to him: “they are of a +certain size, that is all; one does not know why they +are so, and this is no smaller than the others.” But +after starting and staring at me, in a moment, as if he +regarded me as an ignoramus that did not know what +I was saying, he told me with disdain that most trains +were raging palaces, though this one, for some sage +motive that he did not understand, was not so.</p> + +<p>I began then to recognise that he must have lived +wholly buried away from actualities amid those<span class="pagenum" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</span> +islands of the sea, for his ignorance of life could +scarce be greater, since he harbours the most laughably +large notions of the glory and achievements of +beings: and I was glad within myself at this, and +resolved that he should be kept like that up to the +day following my marriage with him. But even as +I was thinking this within myself, what was my +astonishment when he informed me that I am a +Frenchwoman, and spoke thenceforth to me in very +passable French of Bordeaux! So that here is a +rustic with a difference.</p> + +<p>When we had arrived at Thring we found that, +though the sun had not yet risen up, the night had +now been replaced by daylight, and the birds were +loud at their works in the silence of the world. I +had by that time told him by what way to make to +the brink of the river, and where to await my coming +to him there under the ruin: so some moments +before the train stopped he leapt from the door on +the off side, and hied off over the metals. A moment +more and laughter was sounding on the platform, +and I looked out to see Miss Eve alighted, calling +out to her father, while she fingered her now withered +violets of Parma, that getting home in the dawn was +like dying to earth and a getting to heaven, and immediately +her father was to be seen stepping down +out of his compartment, on his arm Miss Ruth, +and the rest of the party trooping out after. +Anne and I, having then assisted to carry the rugs +to the carriages outside, set out together in the mail-phaeton +for The Towers some minutes later than the +others: and we found a gaiety in returning once again +after so much of London and the sea, for everything +is good in its turn, but a curse upon too much of any +one condition of being. So down the mountain<span class="pagenum" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</span> +through the townlet to the river we drove in a procession, +and up the mountain beyond, no one yet to +be met on the roads, but one constable, and the day +slowly working about us toward its birth.</p> + +<p>After our arrival at The Towers, having first perfumed +Miss Eve’s bath with the infusion of frangipane +and ambergris, and then got her hair prepared while +she perused an accumulation of her correspondence, +I put her to bed, she impressing it upon me that +I, too, must take a nap. I had other thoughts than +napping, tired as I was! all my nerves tingling at +the whispered word within me that love was now +again by God’s goodness about to be mine in this +dog’s world. The moment, therefore, that I was free, +I was down and away, tapping my face with powder, +taking from the larder and housemaid’s pantry a +parcel of bread, meat, and preserves, and down by +the river found him seated in a cavern of the cliffs, +searching into the interior of wild plants which he +had slit with a knife. He was still visibly atremble +with excitement, but did not rise when I came to +him, continuing to gaze into the make of the plants, +having recognised my coming step, as I think. But +on a sudden he started upright with something of a +laugh, and made the remark, gazing upward at the +sky and around at the girdle of mountains, that it +was a world worthy of “Man” to circulate in. “It +is more imposing than those islands of the sea, is it +not?” said I to him, and he replied, “Yes,” for +that those are mostly of bog and boulders, with hags +in between, but that these parts are made of stones +with strange names, so many millions of ages old; +only he wished to know what creatures could live in +those sheds over the river, and looked dumfounded +when I informed him that they are the ordinary houses<span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</span> +of a country townlet! But he scarce seems to believe +my statements. The windows, he remarked, can only +be opened half-way at the most to take in the fresh +air, and when I gave him to know that all English +windows are of this sort, though French windows +fully open, this caused him to fall into so extraordinary +a marvelling, that one had to laugh! For +one kind must be ideally the better, he said, so why +do we find the British tied to one kind, and the French +married to another? But this I was unable to make +plain to him, and he remained in his surprise.</p> + +<p>I now went into the question of our wedding, telling +him how everything could be fixed up in some +days, how I found myself possessed of two hundred +pounds funded out of my earnings, which amount +would serve nicely for our small <i>ménage</i>, till he +should have found his niche in the world; and I engaged +myself to see to everything as to getting the +licence from the surrogate, as I desired him meanwhile +to hide in the church-steeple near St. Peter, +whither twice a day I would fetch him a meal: for +I did not wish him to see the world at all as yet, and +so, working on his awes as to his father, I warned +him that he would certainly be caught, if he but once +looked forth of his hiding; though, <i>after</i> our marriage, +I said, he could safely range out anywhere, since +the laws would not allow his father to take him out +of his spouse’s arms.</p> + +<p>As to this he bent his head; but as to bringing +him meals, he made the observation that that was +not worth the trouble, inasmuch as he frequently +exercised himself in abstaining from eating for a +week at a time, and he asked if he might not remain +in the cave where he was, in order that he might +peep at the people passing over the opposite rivershore:<span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</span> +to which, as I could see no reason against it, +I gave my consent, and even agreed that he should +come to meet me in the east shrubbery of The Towers +that evening about nine. So, having given him to +observe the zig-zag running down round the +mountain’s brow from The Towers, I ran from him.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII.<br> + +<span class="sm">THE TERRACES.</span></h2> +</div> + +<p>Arrived at The Towers, I first slumbered a couple of +hours, and then, the day still early, returned to my +mistress’ bedside. She had bidden me wake her, but +I just massaged her with a gentle touch, contemplating +with a smile of pleasure that face whose charms +I am soon no more to behold: and never did she +show to me in so angel-like a light as then, for everything +is suddenly changed in me, I find myself inclined +to be kindly-minded to everybody, and then +Miss Eve is ever beguiling, from her very breathing +being given forth a breeze fraught with that fainting +fragrance of frangipane, which is as essentially +a part of her self as are her eyes or her smile. When +her lids unclosed of their own action she once more +bathed, and it was when I was doing her hands in +making her toilette for the forenoon that she begged +me to bear tea with my own hands to her, if she should +happen to be in the small drawing-room after four +that afternoon.</p> + +<p>I at once suspected an interview with Monsieur le +Comte de Courcy, and this proved true: for on looking +into the small drawing-room in the afternoon, I +saw the two alone at a window, and when I presently +stole in bearing the tray, there they still were, Miss +Eve considering something that had been entreated +of her with her head bent, while Monsieur le Comte,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</span> +in his grey frock-coat, spoke pressingly at her, eagerly +fingering his imperial. Now, the sight of lovemaking +always profoundly agitates me, causing me +a shivering round my right knee; so, having +announced the tea in a mutter, I could not, on stealing +out, tear my ears away, but stood there by the +stair-top, hung upon what was said; and presently +could hear the Minister of the Interior say, “You +have permitted me to hope these four months,” then +mumble, mumble, and then the lips of Miss Eve were +speaking, saying, “Days have their weirds and their +weathers, if Thursday its drought, perchance Friday +its showers: somehow to-day I am dull, empty +of every reply.” “Only whisper to me the word +‘hope,’” I then heard Monsieur the Minister implore +with much agitation, though what answer was +made to this I could not catch; and he then said, +“Soon?” to which she replied, “Soon necessarily, +since you are going.” So he asked her, “To-morrow?” +and the answer given was, “Well, to-morrow, +if God will,” at which point I saw the boy-in-buttons +rushing up, so went away.</p> + +<p>For the evening Miss Eve had arranged for the +party a ball, to which came a troop of neighbour +visitors, though Miss Ruth and Mr. Vickery, of +course, kept themselves from the levity of it. So, +after preparing Miss Eve’s third bath—Miss Ruth, +I have heard, considers it to be “worldly” to bathe +her body as frequently as once in a week, as nuns +believe!—after bathing Miss Eve anew, I advised her +to put on for the evening the Chantilly over-skirt and +the pearls, for I knew that Miss Savage in her crimson +robe would be making Miss Eve’s pink appear pale; +and having aided nature one wee bit by a touch on +her cheeks, her lashes, and her eye-brows, I turned<span class="pagenum" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</span> +her out an object <i>chic</i> to kiss the hand at, proudly +certain in myself that she must prove the finest-costumed +of the company; and still I had uttered no +word to her as to my leaving her service immediately, +it was so immense a step, like a ravine from which +I shrank.</p> + +<p>After dinner, till nearly nine, I was down in the +housekeeper’s place, making a pretence at playing +cards, and some moments after nine rose to rush off +to meet him in the east shrubbery, as arranged; but +just then my bell summoned me, and when I went to +the shrubbery ten minutes late, with a rush of terrors +I became aware that he was not there. I ran my +hardest now, my heart raised to Heaven in a prayer +that nothing had happened—down the mountain to +the cliffs, down their face to his cave. He was not +there, and I wrung my hands together in an anguish +of apprehension, begging the good God not once +again to bring me all the gall of the draught of frustration +to drain to the dregs, and the bitterish bread of +drabness to chew for ever: for there he was not, and +where he could have gone to I could not guess. +Thinking at last that I might have missed him in +coming, I made my way back up, with runs and +stoppages to take my breath, came back to the +shrubbery, but failed to find him there. However, +on looking out across the lake, I saw in the moonlight +that laved the lawn-terraces two forms: one of them +Miss Ruth, pacing there with her gaze poring upon +the zodiac, and her rubric of devotion hung between +her fingers; the other, whom I could just perceive, was +lying flat, peeping into the drawing-room through a +window, and I knew that it was he, for a rumour of +the music and dancing came faintly to me there, and +I knew that this must have seduced him to it. I could<span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</span> +not but feel pleased to find him, but to my feet my +being was pierced with fear to see him lying there, +peeping carefully in. In a minute, however, he +bounded to his feet, hearing, I presume, the step of +Miss Ruth, and he ran some paces, looking back at +her; but when she beckoned to him he waited, and +in a minute I perceived them standing together engaged +in speech.</p> + +<p>I crept then through the bushes of the lake’s edge, +till I came to the lawn; and there, observing their +backs turned toward me, I stalked still further forward +on my hands and knees, till I was in concealment +beneath the stonework of a terrace—little dreaming +that I had been overheard; and thence I heard +the voice of Miss Ruth saying to the boy, “But you +must have lived in a strange isolation never to have +heard speak of Jesus Christ?” upon which he, gazing +down upon the ground, said in a low tone that he +was altogether ignorant, till two days ago having +never met with anyone save his father and an idiot.</p> + +<p>“Poor dear boy!” coos the voice of Miss Ruth, +who, being but twenty-five years of age, has scarcely +the right, I think, thus to soothe a youth of twenty. +“And where,” says she, “was this?”</p> + +<p>In a tone in his throat he replied, “On an island +of the Outer Hebrides.”</p> + +<p>“Why, I am even now from there!” she told him. +“But your father, has he also never known the blessed +name of Jesus?”</p> + +<p>He answered her that his father possesses the sum +of worldly wisdom, but that he had never at all heard +from his father any mention of this personage.</p> + +<p>“Why, this is strange!” she cries in a maze, +with her azure eyes of a child widely agape at him: +“to think of such pagans living in Christian England!<span class="pagenum" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</span> +Do you not, then, know the words ‘Christian,’ +‘Christianity,’ ‘Christendom’?”</p> + +<p>To this he answered that he had never heard these +words.</p> + +<p>“Tell me this, then,” said she: “in what year is +it that we are now living?” to which he made her +the amazing answer that we are now in the year six +hundred thousand three hundred and sixty-three.</p> + +<p>At this reply Miss Ruth smiled, and during some +time appeared wrapped in silent prayer, until she +suddenly asked him, “From what event, then, do +you date this vast sum of years?”</p> + +<p>“From the presumed date of the evolution of human +life from the ape-state,” was his reply.</p> + +<p>For a few moments Miss Ruth mused upon the +young man, then threw up her hands with drollery in +her little human way which just rescues her from +being angelic; and she asked him, “But are not all +dates reckoned among us from the Lord Christ?”</p> + +<p>At these words of hers he seemed extremely perplexed, +and, after frowning upon the ground, asked +her if the Lord Jesus Christ was a Greek or a Roman.</p> + +<p>“He was a Hebrew!” cries Miss Ruth.</p> + +<p>“With an Arianised name,” said he: “lived, then, +under the later Romans.”</p> + +<p>“Just so,” said she: “how much you know for +one of your station, and how little!”</p> + +<p>“How little,” he said, and on a sudden knelt to +her, begging her to bear with his ignorance, for that +she was much more gracious and merciful to discourse +with him than he deserved, as he was not only strange +to the world, but his brain, moreover, was all in a +whirl, inasmuch as he had only just made away from +his father’s control, nor had ever before been intoxicated +with strains of harmony such as those escaping<span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</span> +from out of the house, nor beheld such blessed +beings as she and those fabulous beldams moving +beautifully to music over the floor of the drawing-room.... +Upon this Miss Ruth raised him up, bid +him wait, and, moving to a window of the drawing-room, +peeped in to Miss Eve, becking her to come, +too, to inspect the curiosity. I disliked her for it, +since there was little need for him ever to have seen +Miss Eve near at hand, save for this. At all events, +out stepped Miss Eve now, very tall in the sheen of +the moon, Miss Ruth seeming a midget near her, +and even when the three stood face to face, still Miss +Eve appeared the tallest of all. So Miss Ruth recounted +now in how odd a solitude the young man +had spent his existence, and then fell anew to talking +of the Lord Christ, he eyeing Miss Eve steadily with +the corner of his wild eye, speaking with a drooped +head to Miss Ruth, eyeing steadily Miss Eve; till now +Miss Ruth cried out, “He was man and God, too!” +and only then did the ogler, peering in surprise at her, +cease to eye Miss Eve. Immediately now, too, his +meekness appeared to cease, for looking straight now +at Miss Eve, he asked her if she also shared this +belief.</p> + +<p>Miss Eve had as yet uttered not a word, but now +with her eyes turned downward, her lips muttered, +“Why, yes.”</p> + +<p>He smiled, and at the same time looked perfectly +perplexed, turning his stare from one to the other +lady, until Miss Ruth remarked to him, “Do not +doubt it, though it is marvellous in all our eyes, so +that even the cherubic natures of the skies deeply +brood with admiration upon it,” and he then very +impolitely replied to her that her consciousness of +the size of this earth could not be alert.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</span></p> + +<p>To this answered Miss Ruth, “The earth? she is +huge in momentousness, you know: with each tick +of the clock a human being ceases to breathe——”</p> + +<p>“A human being?” he replied with a cry of surprise: +“with each tick of the clock a million worlds +are burned, and are born!”</p> + +<p>“Oh, La!” says she, startled a little at him.</p> + +<p>Then she said, with that veiling of the eyes with +the eyelids that lends her her air of Madonna saintliness, +“That cannot be, I think.”</p> + +<p>But the other sister murmured, “Ruth, it must truly +be so, if the universe truly is termless: prove me one +world that’s been burned, millions a minute must +burn.”</p> + +<p>“Let it be so, then,” said Miss Ruth, “since you +say so, and glory be to God, for the remotest of them, +I think, His hand holds, and His right hand guides +it.”</p> + +<p>“He is it,” the young man said.</p> + +<p>“He is with it, I think,” Miss Ruth replied.</p> + +<p>“And <i>you</i> also say this?” he asked of Miss Eve.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” she answered curtly, with a touch of pique, +as it appeared to me.</p> + +<p>Silent he stood now a while, with that smile of his +that hides all the windings of his mind behind his +brow, but still giving an impression of one plunged +in bewilderment at the creatures he was speaking +with. Then, glancing upward, he swept his fingers +athwart the vault of the stars, with the remark that +all that was a darksome mathematic, a perfection +which was deaf.</p> + +<p>But now Miss Eve, going rosy, frowned upon the +ground, and in tones that trembled a little, she observed, +“Perfect it <i>is</i>, though a Heart, not a Head, +was its Father and Harper; tolling melodious notes,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</span> +wrung with emotion it rolls;” and it was now that +the young man suddenly caused my heart to bound +into my mouth by coming out with the statement that, +inasmuch as <i>the fourth</i> sharer in the conversation +would undoubtedly be found to contemplate the +universe in the same sort of mood, he could only +suppose that all ladies were prone to criticisms of the +same quality.</p> + +<p>The two ladies looked round, and “which ‘fourth +sharer’ can he mean?” Miss Ruth wished to know +of Miss Eve, while I crouched there beneath the +terrace, trembling lest he should betray my whereabouts; +but when they pressed him to say where I +was, to my great gladness, he gave an evasive reply.</p> + +<p>He next requested Miss Ruth to instruct him further +in her views of the universe, upon which she begged +him to come the next night that she might give him +a Bible and teach him of the Lord Jesus; and as to +his father, after some hesitation on her part, he gained +from her a promise that, if his father, or his father’s +agents, should get upon his scent, the sisters would not +let out to them where he lurked down there in the +river-cave. And next he began to beg Miss Eve for +one of the begonias at her girdle, but at that moment, +before he could be answered, Monsieur le Comte de +Courcy stepped out of the house, and, really as if by +magic, the instant he appeared the young man had +vanished. By this time I had somewhat recovered +of my fit of affright, my eyes were anew at the parapet-top, +and I could spy the surprise of the ladies, who +seemed unable to believe what their two eyes had +seen: for though the nearest leafage was quite nineteen +or twenty metres away, in the twinkling of an +eye, as it seemed, he was within it, and gone like +a ghost at cock-crow.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</span></p> + +<p>I, for my part, having crawled back to the lake, +rushed through the shrubbery obliquely, meaning to +meet him somewhere in his career downward: but he +was nowhere to be found, until I was on the footpath +above the cliffs, when down there in the moonlight +I beheld him walking furiously to and fro before +his cave’s mouth. Down, then, I scrambled, calling +out to him, asking why he had not awaited me; but +he is not very well-bred, went on silently walking, +and on marking one of the swans glide past on the +water, he suddenly darted to lie on his face and gaze +at it.</p> + +<p>“But why did you fly like that?” I asked him +when he returned to me, “since the gentleman could +not have hurt you?” but still he made me no reply.</p> + +<p>“And what did you think of the two ladies?” I +next asked him.</p> + +<p>Then he: “Who are those ladies?”</p> + +<p>I: “They are Miss Ruth and Miss Eve Vickery, +the daughters of Mr. Richard Vickery, who is what +is called ‘An Iron King,’ a very rich and an extremely +religious man, who sometimes preaches in a chapel +on Sundays.”</p> + +<p>He: “Preaches?”—and I had now to try to explain +that “preaching” means teaching the people how to +be devout and grave; but I failed to get him to comprehend +how Mr. Vickery could have attained to +greater gravity than the rest, and he struck his brow +in the misery of his failure to grasp the signification +of a single word that I uttered as to this. “Well, +it is so, and that is all,” I said at last; “but as to +the ladies, you have still not told me which of the +two you most admire.”</p> + +<p>Then he: “Which is the first-born?”</p> + +<p>So I: “That auburn-haired one is the elder by<span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</span> +three years, being already twenty-five, and it is she +who has the reputation of a saint in society, though +it is Miss Eve who is so much the more queenly; so +which of the sisters do you like, the auburn or the +light?”</p> + +<p>He: “A saint?”—and I had anew to make an explanation +which he little comprehended, and then +anew I wished to know of him which of the two +sisters he the most admired.</p> + +<p>And now he, making that stone like an ink-bottle +which he keeps inside his shirt whirl about his forefinger +without attachment in a quite wonderful way, +his waist swaying to keep the thing whirling wildly +quick, answered with whistling lips, “I like Miss +Ruth.”</p> + +<p>Then I: “Oh, you do? You like her better, I see, +than you do Miss Eve?” upon which he, putting his +hand behind his back for the stone to whirl behind +there, answered, “Yes.”</p> + +<p>Then I: “But leaving Miss Ruth out of the +question, since she will never marry, which of the +two do you most admire—Miss Eve or me?”</p> + +<p>He: “You.”</p> + +<p>I: “Oh, you do?”</p> + +<p>He whistled quietly awhile, whirling the thing +wildly with a swaying waist, as it were a wheel wheeling +on his hand, and he answered, “Yes” to me; +but I thought that my heart would be breaking with +its rankling.</p> + +<p>So I to him: “Well, since this is so, that you like +me so very vastly better than Miss Eve and than all, +why go to-morrow evening to get the Bible, since +there is no need, really; it is all nonsense and make-believe, +and will merely mean that you will be caught +by your father,” upon which he, suddenly ceasing to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</span> +wheel the thing, sharply asked if she had not promised +not to betray him.</p> + +<p>So I: “She has promised, yes, but she little means +it, wait, you will see, you little know women, they +are deceivers all; she will betray you surely enough, +if she but has the chance.”</p> + +<p>He glanced sharply at me, then said, “No.”</p> + +<p>I: “But I say yes.”</p> + +<p>He: “The lapwing says pee-wit.”</p> + +<p>What he meant I was not sure, but I was so broken-hearted +that night, that with sobs I threw myself now +in a passion to his breast, and on my knees, kissing +my own tears on his hands, implored him like a dear +boy not to leave and despoil me, but to love me for +ever, for if he left me, that would be my death, I said, +and his death as well.</p> + +<p>He smiled with his fixed little smile upon me, and +I could believe that he meant well by me; so, getting +up now, I told him how I had that day gained all +information as to English marriages, and meant on +the morrow to take the first measures; but as I was +speaking of this, he, leaning aside, bent his ear to +the ground, hearing God only knows what sound +under the grass, and when I had bidden him good-night, +and was going up the cliff’s brow again, on +glancing back I beheld him bent down aside, eagerly +listening with his ear near the ground.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII.<br> + + +<span class="sm">IN THE GARDEN.</span></h2> +</div> + +<p>The next day the first thing that happened was the +coming of a person whom Miss Ruth interviewed for +her father in the morning-room. I was even then +seeking Miss Ruth for Miss Eve, and on coming +near the room could hear the man say that he was +one Shan Healy, a servant of Dr. Lepsius, who, +having traced to The Towers the owners of the yacht +which had touched at Shunter, was now come to find +out what he could as to his master’s son.</p> + +<p>He seemed a person of some thirty years, slimly +tall, with a scar that twists his upper lip, clad in rough +new clothes: a man of an alert and amiable +personality, so that Miss Ruth laid her hand on his +sleeve to soothe him, for indeed he was in deep dreariness, +and frequently sniffled. When I went in with +the message, Miss Ruth sent me to call Miss Eve to +her, so I ran back, and having brought Miss Eve, +hung near to hear.</p> + +<p>It was a long talk, the stranger having been given +a seat near the grate, the sisters seated on each side +of him, hearing his tale. I, for my share, was kept +fidgety by the sounds of footsteps going about the +house, and could gather only in fragments what was +said—enough, however, to inform me of the marvel<span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</span> +of the opportunity which has brought me this +gorgeous bridegroom of mine, for here, it would +appear, is Aladdin, and it is the wonderful lamps that +are alight in his eyes. Only sparkle crisply, do, do, +my little star, and come to me some spirit of perfect +luck and alertness to spur me now with whispers how +only four days more to hold him, till I have safely +erected myself on my thrones, and bound my brows +with crowns. Oh, I am silly with thoughts. But +thrones, may be; may be, many crowns, as Josephine, +who was but a <i>bourgeoise</i>, wore: for when Miss Eve +asked this man, Healy, for what reason the father +is in this fever as to the son being abroad in the +world, the man answered that “the doctor regards it, +lady, as a peril greater than a charge of gun-cotton +piled under the globe, with a child holding a glowing +coal by it: for, says he, the day that Master Hannibal +gets to recognise the real grade of mankind’s mind +he’ll be dragging the frame of society to fragments, +like a child tearing a fly, leg by leg, for mischief.” +The ladies had the eyes of a child who has listened +late in the night to tales of the ancient time! “Well,” +Miss Ruth murmured, having heard the wonders that +the man had to tell, “I am in for it now, for though +I do know, I promised him not to tell his whereabouts, +being cross with his parent for not having instructed +him in the Christian faith.” Then to Miss Eve, who, +leaning forward with her chin on her palm, sat staring +at some vision which she saw in the hearthplace, she +remarked, “What do you say, Eve; what should I +do?”</p> + +<p>Now Miss Eve knit her brows, and presently replied, +“Promises can’t be repealed, dear.”</p> + +<p>“But since it may do much harm?” Miss Ruth +suggested.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</span></p> + +<p>“Still,” muttered the lips of Miss Eve, “a +promise.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, lady, do, for God’s sake,” Healy now entreated +of Miss Ruth, “not that I expect him to go +back with me, but he’s so green to everything, badly +needs somebody, lady, like a whale run ashore, has +got no razors to shave, no jacket——”</p> + +<p>At this of “razors,” Miss Ruth placed her hand +upon the man’s in a movement of friendliness: for in +truth he appears to be rather like his young master’s +nurse than servant, and Miss Ruth’s heart, like waters +haunted with squalls, is anew every minute smitten +with all the world’s smart, as fluid and easy as Miss +Eve is aloof. So she smiles with the man, saying, +“Wait, I’ll question my God,” and gets up to go +away to a window, from which she presently returns +to Miss Eve with the words, “Eve, I’ll peach.”</p> + +<p>To this Miss Eve at first answered nothing, but +after a little asked, “What will he think of the worth +of the promises made by us Christians? Knowing a +first that has failed, never a second he’ll trust”; but +Miss Ruth continued to believe that it would be better +on the whole to betray; did not, however, outright +do so, only revealing to Healy that the boy would be +coming that evening to receive a Bible, and instructing +Healy to be then on the terraces to meet him.</p> + +<p>But there was one who had no wish that the boy +should be taken unawares, and who, not meaning him +any more to meet Miss Eve, immediately made up her +mind to make known to him that he had been deceived +by the ladies. So, after placing Miss Eve’s half-hourly +hot water, down at once I started to him, and +in passing near the morning-room, again had a peep +of Miss Eve in solitude now, pacing there regularly +to and fro with something of a frown, as it were a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</span> +sentinel in a gown. But when I had got down to the +cave, again my heart went aching, for again he was +not there, and I thought then within myself, “It is +going to be more troublesome to hold him in my +prison than to keep quicksilver in a sieve, or to bind +a wind with twine, and this is a wild kind of horse +with wings that I have vaulted on, I think, which may +chance in its raging to break every rib of my body.” +Louder and louder I called out after him now, and +there was no sound nor sign of him: only, on the +cave’s floor now was a thing resembling a telescope, +made of oak bored through the core; also I saw +there a thing like a trap made of twigs, with the +guts and gore of some animal close to it; also a +hollowed stone containing water that was violently on +the boil, though by what means the boy could cause +this water to be bubbling and boiling there was more +than one could conceive. There remained also most +of the food which I had brought him, and having +left what I had now brought, I had to hurry back up +to The Towers.</p> + +<p>There I spied Miss Eve still pacing in that same +machine-like fashion as before, as queenly slow of +step as when a lady, conning poetry by rote, paces +with closed eyes. However, within twenty minutes +now she called me, to ask me to take tea to her with +my own hands, as on the day before; nor did I get +any time to go down the mountain again, for after +lunch I had to take the walk over to St. Arvens, +where, at the vicarage, before a Mr. Rae, an aged +<i>curé</i>, I made an affidavit as to there being “no impediment” +to my marriage, and he promised to procure +me by the 27th, from “the Bishop’s Registry,” +the licence to marry, with a stamp on it for £2 3s. 6d. +So far, then, all goes well, thank God; and in passing<span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</span> +back through St. Arvens, having got my finger +measured at Martin’s shop, I there gave orders for +the wedding-ring, since I do not regard it as a good +thing to bring my former wedding-ring into use for +this new bridegroom. By the time I came home, +elated with hopes, it was already late, and before +long I was bearing tea, as bidden, to Miss Eve. +There was an afternoon picnic at the Devil’s Pulpit, +where many of the party were; a few were at tennis; +Miss Ruth was in the book-room in the thick of +scribbling off a basketful of her correspondence with +Christendom; and Miss Eve was with Monsieur the +Minister of the Interior. But this time when I bore +in their tea they were less close together: Monsieur +de Courcy sitting in a mood of gloom on the sofa, +gazing at the floor between his legs, Miss Eve standing +nearer the fire-place, fingering white violets, with +a bent face. And I, listening in the corridor, heard +her murmur to him that “pain like a curse or some +venomous perfume infects all Eve’s poor daughters: +curst that they needs must endure, worse when they +needs must inflict,” from which I gathered that the +poor Monsieur de Courcy, having been given to hope +for twenty-four hours, was now definitely turned away, +though, as I left the corridor, I heard him cry out +crazily, “There is some reason! I know that you +like me, Eve!” but what answer was given to this I +did not gather.</p> + +<p>Then, after spending some time at the wardrobe, +preparing the bath, arranging four costumes for her +choosing, and the perfumery and lotions for her +<i>toilette de soir</i>, I thought I might have just time to +run down to the boy, but was now anew disappointed +by being summoned to yet new toils by Miss Ruth, +who, having received a bale of toys from the Dean<span class="pagenum" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</span> +of somewhere, presents me five dolls to dress! So +that is the way it is? It was always to be dressing +dolls that I was born, was it not, ladies? Wait only +four days more! and perhaps you will then not know +your lady’s-maid for the smile that will writhe her +lips, and for the royalty of that rage of joy which +will shine in her eyes.</p> + +<p>For the evening Miss Eve, for some reason, would +put on her poudre blue with the Borzoi ornaments, +and orchids, and now I had a small hour to myself, +for, as to dinner, eating was far enough beneath that +sphere of fairies where my brain was in a reel; so, +having merely tasted a spoonful of soup, off I hastened +to him....</p> + +<p>He was not there at the cave, still he was not there! +And I could only guess that, his awes of his “Man” +having already grown less great, he had roamed far, +and ah, I asked my heart if he had not done it four +days too soon for my fate.... I had no paper to +write him that he would be betrayed by the ladies +if he came up, and after half an hour’s waiting returned +to The Towers.</p> + +<p>Nothing was then left me to do but to watch, and +at first I lurked under the conservatory’s shadow, and +then, conscious that I might be observed, moved up +to pry from behind the curtains of that front bedroom +on the right.</p> + +<p>Thence I soon saw Healy appear on the terraces, +and soon from the drawing-room out to him moves +Miss Ruth. Miss Eve did not appear, though invited +by Miss Ruth, I know, to assist at the +rendezvous. So Miss Ruth and Healy conversed a +while, and I heard the stable-clock strike nine as Miss +Ruth introduced Healy into the conservatory to wait +there concealed, and then returned to pace the terrace<span class="pagenum" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</span> +in the moonlight. Three minutes afterwards, half a +mile off on the meadow below the lawn, I beheld a +runner coming with a wide stride, his elbows at his +side, his head thrown back, his lips opened, pressing +prone home like a beast with its ribs breathing +deeply from long travelling. At once I was certain +that it was no one but him by his black skull, his +shaggy shirt, and by observing how with a bouncing +somehow and a buoyancy in his gait the boy came +gaily—beautiful! like a fabulous youth booted with +something pneumatic; and soon, scaling the terraces, +he stood panting before Miss Ruth, I kneeling at the +window’s sill with my ear low to hear him excusing +his lateness: for, said he, he had had a high-day of +adventures, and then had been again delayed by +watching a conflagration eight miles away, and the +deaths of a man and a child.</p> + +<p>“Really?” says Miss Ruth to him, “and what, +sir, is the name of this poor man who was burnt?” +to which he gave the answer that he had heard the +man called “George Perkins, the grocer.”</p> + +<p>“What, Mr. Perkins, the grocer, of Up Brooming?” +cries Miss Ruth shrinkingly, with eyes of +alarm, “burnt to death?” and “Oh!” she murmured +with ruth.</p> + +<p>To this he replied—and I disliked him for it—that +there was no need for any feeling of grief or loss, +since this grocer’s life, he felt certain, was a life of +no value, one greatly below the human grade, his +figure having the grossness of the gorilla’s, and his +soul on a similar level, since in the attempt that he +had made to steal he had failed even to death....</p> + +<p>“To steal?” breathed Miss Ruth; “Mr. Perkins, +the grocer? A prayer-leader? There must be some +mistake!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</span></p> + +<p>“No,” he said—at least he took it, he said, for +granted that the grocer had meant to steal, since +there appeared to be no other motive for his demented +rush into the conflagration.</p> + +<p>“He rushed to rescue the child!” cries Miss Ruth.</p> + +<p>“So,” he replies, with his smile, “the people of +the region seemed to imagine,” but as the child, he +observed, was not even the grocer’s own offspring, +and as even an ape’s eye might have recognised the +fatal state of the conflagration, therefore he could only +suppose that the motive of the grocer was to grasp +some hoard.... Whereupon the saint suddenly +throws up her hands with drollery, and once more, +as on the evening before, could not resist running to +bring Miss Eve to hear the story of the good grocer, +who, having perished as a hero, was still impeached +of stealing! But Miss Eve would not immediately +come, so that the other sister had need to entreat +her thrice with, “Yes, come, yes, come,” ere Miss +Eve, deciding, appeared on the terrace in her poudre +blue, the moonlight’s hue, Hannibal Lepsius making +the abject obeisances of a Jew before her face. Then +the three spoke during some moments, or Miss Ruth +and the young man spoke, Miss Eve, with an air of +musing, waiting mutely near. I heard only in fragments +what was said, but gathered that Miss Ruth, +having ridiculed the grotesqueness of the good grocer +being accused of stealing, the young man now began +to glorify and laud stealing, asking if the Spartans +did not rightly regard it as an excellent art of life; +and what was dishonourable about it, he wished to +know, save to be of so drowsy a consciousness, he said, +as to fail or to be found out in it? In the midst of which +speech of his, Miss Eve, without saying a word, turned +away, and went pacing westward behind the conservatory<span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</span> +toward the garden, the young man all agape +after her, and Miss Ruth saying to him, “Now, I’m +afraid you have quite blundered into my sister’s bad +books, though I, too, say with you that there’s no +wrong in stealing, save that it does seem rather selfish, +does it not? and selfishness, I think, is the sole +falsity, the only fault. But never mind, it will be +quite well, let us wait and pray, for I prophesy in +the Spirit that one day light will spring from on high +in you. I am only sorry that we have to separate, +but here’s the promised Bible, which for love of me +you will read frequently, while I for love of you +will wrestle—Listen!” for he, half turned toward the +conservatory, hardly heard her, his eyeballs all beguiled +away with a hungry glaring in them the way +that Miss Eve had disappeared. “Listen!” she says, +“I have considered it best to betray you——”</p> + +<p>“Ah!” now he span about to frown a second at +her, into her, one may say, and some other seconds +stood dumb, considering it; looked up, too (why, I +do not know), at the window where I knelt hidden. +At any rate, he saw now the truth of my prophecy +that Miss Ruth would betray him, and that I was +no lapwing that says “pee-wit.” In a moment more +by some reasoning of his own he seems to have surmised +that Healy was concealed in the conservatory, +for toward it with his usual ill-breeding, leaving Miss +Ruth, he immediately rushed. Just then the footman +John ran out with some message for Miss Ruth, who +went in with him, and soon out from the conservatory +hurried Hannibal Lepsius, holding Healy by the +sleeve, leading him to the terrace’s brink, where he +caused him to sit with a warning finger. The next instant +he himself was off with the fleetest feet the way +that Miss Eve had disappeared, tossing aside in his<span class="pagenum" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</span> +flight the Bible brought him by the other sister into +the basin of water where the sun-dial stands, and as he +vanished I, too, though with a shivering in my right +knee which shook me throughout, rushed toward the +house-back, and out into the top part of the garden, +all my heart in a conflagration and tremble of haste +to break into some outrageous row, and shout my +wrongs.</p> + +<p>I thought I heard talking down there at the bottom +of the garden, and, bottling up my rage, shivering, +I crawled like a snail down the three steps into a +garden-walk which lay between bowers and arches +made of box-twigs. There the voice of the boy again +reached me, clearly now; so down another path on +my right I prowled to its end, and now could see them +down there at the bottom by the seat, he on his knees +to Miss Eve like a very slave, she standing still, looking +not at him, but at the north shrubbery-wall with +a frown on her brow, while round in cruises above-head +a white owl, I remember, was moving smoothly +about in the moonlight, like a musing spirit cruising: +for I somehow observed each little object, just as a +person in going to the guillotine does, I have heard; +and I observed that, though the previous day there +had been bristles on his cheeks, he was at present +clean-shaven, and I observed that Miss Eve’s handkerchief, +which she had dropped, hung from the +young man’s right ear; and I observed that he offered +her earnestly the one half of a halfpenny, or of a +penny, at which she would not look. Then I saw +her lips speak, and she pointed southward, enjoining +him, it seemed, to leave her, upon which up the boy +sprang, and was now about, I believe, to seize her +body, but all at once now was in flight—along the +alley down which I was peeping! <i>Why</i> in flight I<span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</span> +could not conjecture, till suddenly I saw Monsieur le +Comte de Courcy appear from the north walk, with his +cane uplifted in the air. He, it seems, pacing with +two ladies in the north shrubbery, and seeing through +the gate, may be, a male without a jacket molesting +Miss Eve, had run to protect her, at which the young +man, ever fearful of his “Man,” had taken to his +heels: and before ever I could raise my self up to run, +he, raining his steps, had pelted by me, looking back +over his shoulder at Monsieur de Courcy. He seemed, +when his eyes fell upon me, to see me there without +surprise; and on some way he still ran, more and +more slowly now, however, looking back always at +Monsieur de Courcy who, cane in air, was pursuing +him. But all at once the boy, making only loitering +steps that halted, almost stopped, amazement +painted on his face—that he was so inefficiently +chased, I take it; amazement, and also, though he +always smiled, a terror which stretched his nostrils +as the cane of Monsieur the Minister came. I stood +awe-struck at it! and Miss Eve, too, appeared to be +apprehensive of something fearful, for she tripped +some distance in Monsieur the Minister’s rear, and +once called out after him. He, however, seemed not +to hear her: still on came his great bulk of body, +the cane, the eye-glass and glassy shirt-front, till he +was quite near the turning in which I lurked, his teeth +grinning white to bite his cigarette between them. +But he never advanced as far forward as my turning: +all at once Hannibal Lepsius was at him; and in that +instant of bewilderment, ere one’s wits could decide +what had been done, or in what way done, one was +aware of the cane of Monsieur the Minister wheeling +high away up in the air, up where the owl wound +its flight, while the Minister himself was now on the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</span> +ground, and his cigarette, no longer in his mouth, now +stuck out of one nostril, the glowing end upward.... +Oh, I was smitten with compunction for Monsieur +de Courcy, he a man of so much culture—and with a +feeling of affright! he being one whose anger it +must be a truly grievous thing to bring upon oneself.... +As Miss Eve hurried to him, I ran off.... +The young man also had vanished, appalled, as I +imagine, at the enormity of his defiance of his +“Man”; and when I ran out to the terraces, neither +of him nor of Healy was any trace to be seen, nor when +I ran down to his river-cave.... I came back up +lagging and agued, yes, trembling throughout in a +kind of ague-fit....</p> + +<p>Then, till my bell summoned me at midnight, I lay +sullen, and, as it were, dead, though uttering a sob +anon. But soon after midnight I had my mistress in +my hands before the mirror, had already made ready +her hair, and now after massage with the preparation, +was getting on her night-gloves, when she remarks +to me, “What is the matter? Your fingers quiver,” +and I then replied to her, “Miss Vickery, this is because +I have it on my mind to inform you that I am +about to leave your service in a hurry, since I am about +to be married.” I expected to feel her start a little! +but even in that electric blaze of the two candelabra +I could detect no surprise in her, and oh, these +English with their cold spleens, how one dislikes +them! She muttered to me, “Don’t be agitated; +when do you go?” did not even inquire who was +that future-one of mine. But as it was mainly in +order to proclaim this to her that I had spoken, I +made the remark, “I believe, Miss Vickery, that you +have even seen my future-one, who is that young individual +named Hannibal Lepsius”—whereat as when<span class="pagenum" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</span> +a nerve leaps a little, it appeared certain to me that +her hand stirred in mine: and I was pleased within +myself at this.</p> + +<p>She asked not one question, but I now informed +her frankly of everything, how, in his passion for me, +after seeing me in the bushes, the young man had +swum aboard the yacht, how I had hidden him, +brought him hither, and now was about to receive +the bishop’s licence to marry him—keeping meantime +a sharp eye of observation upon her face in the mirror: +but beyond a little raising up of her palms once as in +amazement, she listened calmly, making no remark; +only, the moment I stopped, up she stood, went to the +large wardrobe, and now began prodigally to shower +out her gowns, gown after gown, upon the arm-chair +for my wedding-gift, so that I stood agape at the +largesse of her busy arm, and this sharp shower of +her bounty—quite a thousand pounds, as I now count—for +out, too, with the others flew that pearl grey, +the ermine stole, that orchid-mauve silk with the +spotted poplin, and now the China silk tea-gown with +the Valenciennes insertions, and that great creation +for the Coaching Club Meet last year, only that once +worn. “And are all these really for me, Miss +Vickery?” I said to her in the midst of it; “you are +truly good and gracious, Miss Vickery,” I said, to +which she made no answer, but continued to rain her +largesse with a scornful arm. I had to make three +journeys out of the chamber, submerged beneath these +riches, and comforted inwardly of the pangs that +rankled in me. Even when I supposed that I had +taken out everything, the stole was still left, and when +I now stepped in softly for this from behind the +portière, I came upon the lady standing there as naked +now as a lily, her outlines all slenderly long-drawn<span class="pagenum" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</span> +as by the pencil of a stripling painter who has never +yet ventured, save in his dreamings, to be voluptuous, +and she appeared to stand tip-toe stretched to spurn +and desert this earth, and return to her heavens. +Suddenly, chancing to catch sight of me behind her, +all that marble was washed in one blush, as though +I was he upon whom perhaps her heart was musing.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX.<br> + + +<span class="sm">“VITRIOLISERAI.”</span></h2> +</div> + +<p>The next morning he was gone, he was not there in +the cave, and as for the man, Healy, he was not there, +and where to seek I knew not at all: only the thing +like a telescope was there in the cave, the thing like a +trap, the dead creature’s remains, the stone which he +has hollowed into a vase, and under some rubbish and +leaves in a corner the thing like an ink-bottle that he +has called a “stele”: but all the bread, etc., that I +had brought him he had either eaten or taken away.</p> + +<p>Eaten, may be; but, if not eaten, whither, I asked +myself—with this food—was he off to? Ah, many +questions I asked myself; and then, hurrying across +the bridge, went to the cottage of Mrs. Bream, with +whom Healy was lodging, to ask if the man did not +sleep there the previous night; but she said no, he +had merely come in, together with a stripling who +wore sandals, to take away his bag, saying, however, +that he would be back to her in some days; and he had +taken the 10.20 up-train with this stripling, who had +wished to know of her, poor sinner, if she did not +know even so much as the names of the mountains in +the moon.</p> + +<p>Upon this, seeing me near to fainting, she made me +sip a little of a white wine made, she said, out of cowslips. +I was not, however, wholly without hope, since<span class="pagenum" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</span> +Healy, who is clearly a captive, and probably but +repeated his master’s words, had promised to return; +nor did I believe that the man could mean to deceive, +since he seems an honest-minded person. To this, +then, I clung; though that the boy should fly off thus +wildly to London without breathing anything of it to +me who am his sweetheart seemed hard—<i>to London</i>, +I assumed! for that 10.20 train stops only at Gloucester +and Swindon before London, and I thought +that he may have wished to behold the capital. Indeed, +this is probable: for the conviction has clearly +been growing upon him that his “Man,” hereabouts, +at all events, is hardly all that he has thought him; +and I guess that the feebleness of such a magnate as +Monsieur the Minister of the Interior in that encounter +in the garden may have sent him flying off to the +capital to find out once and for all how things actually +are. What, then, I asked myself, would be his opinion +of it all? Would what he there saw fascinate or in any +other way keep him from returning to me? Would +not Healy find the means to communicate with Dr. +Lepsius, or in some way to kidnap and immure the +young man? Ah, many, many questions I asked +myself....</p> + +<p>The 26th. It was vindictive of Monsieur de Courcy +to give information to the police as to his grievance +against the young man, which, after all, was hardly +very grave; but his no doubt is one of those hard +brows that hardly ever forgive. At any rate, this +morning an “inspector” demanded to interview me +with regard to the whereabouts of the young man, my +relation with whom, owing to my haste to crow my +marriage, is already known throughout the household, +just as the fact that Miss Eve is in negotiation with a +lady for a new maid is well known to everyone....<span class="pagenum" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</span> +My God! what is to become of me now, my good God? +Have I not conducted myself like a light-headed +young girl who has not yet learned to govern her +nerves or her tongue, who skips into enthusiasm at +the first music, and boasts beforehand of shadows as +though they were substances? At any rate, I had +to confess to this constable my complete ignorance of +my bridegroom’s movements, whereupon he, getting +up to go, said to me, “Well, we shall make it hot for +him if he dares show his nose about here again.”</p> + +<p>The 27th. But is he such a blackguard, or is his +scorn of me so great, that he cannot even write me a +line to say that I am never again to see him? Still not +even a line, and Miss Eve this morning would not let +me do her hands, but ordered me to bed, I looked so +bad. I went, but had to get up to go to St. Arvens +to receive the marriage-licence, after which I took the +train, as directed, to Wynton, to give notice of it to +the registrar there; and now any day after to-morrow, +this gentleman told me, I may be married: a statement +that made me in coming down the stairs break +bitterly out into tears.... In passing through Wynton +I procured myself at the chemist’s a vial of +vitriol....</p> + +<p>The 28th. Again to-day I was several hours in +bed with my headache, Miss Ruth coming at noon +to read aloud to me a fairy-tale named <i>The Pilgrim’s +Progress</i>, and after luncheon comes Miss Eve also +to sit five minutes at my bedside. It was in going +away, when she had reached the door, that she +stopped and said, “And as to your marriage?” +whereupon I too rashly indulged my shame with the +falsehood that I had that very morning received a +communication from my future-one, assuring me that +he would immediately be here to be mine.... The<span class="pagenum" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</span> +house is now empty of guests, the two Gordons having +departed this morning....</p> + +<p>The 29th. Well, dear Lord, he is here, and I thank +you. I now write at six in the morning, after having +spent a nearly sleepless night with him and Healy, +and still with no desire to close my eyes. By to-morrow +evening we shall have been secretly and safely +married, and within a week I shall have taken farewell +of this my life here....</p> + +<p>I was in the housekeeper’s room alone, for Mrs. +Bowden had gone up, it being long past midnight, +and I was lying on the sofa, the vial of vitriol beside +me on the table, for I had been foolishly fingering it, +when there came a tapping at that back door which +opens upon the passage. I get up, I go to it, I open +it.... And it was <i>he</i>! Oh, my wild one with wings, +with the light of life flying wildly in his eyes, it was +he! and while one might reckon three I stood breathless, +then with a cry was on his breast.</p> + +<p>His nature is not yet coaxed over into tolerating the +luxury of kissing, and even in the ecstasy of our meeting +his chastity shrank from the touch of my lips; but, +my faith, that will soon be “al-right”! and he +patted my shoulder fondly, even while hurriedly saying, +“I need light for an hour or two.”</p> + +<p>I was too much flurried to attend to what he said! +I cooed to him, “And is it actually true that you have +come back to me?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, yes, let me get in,” he mutters hurriedly, +and now, seizing Healy by the sleeve, hurries in into +the housekeeper’s room. He had climbed outside, +and spied me alone in there through the window, +Healy told me afterwards.</p> + +<p>But his air was much changed! all bustle now, business, +and aloofness from one! When I now said to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</span> +him, “But where, then, have you been?” he mutters +to Healy, “Just answer her questions, and see that +she speaks in whispers,” and instantly sits to the table, +places on it that ink-bottle “stele” of his that he had +left in the cave, takes a magnifying-glass out of his +shirt, and begins to gaze through it at the marks that +are cut in the stone.</p> + +<p>“But tell me——” I began to say to him, when +“<i>Sh-h-h!</i>” breathes Healy into my ear, “<i>I</i>’ll tell +you,” and draws me away to a corner, where he +whispers me, “Mum, can you offer a body such a +thing as a bite of something? He”—indicating +Hannibal Lepsius with his thumb—“can do without +food and sleep, but that’s a bit more than <i>I</i> can bring +off, anyway.”</p> + +<p>I made him sit, stole out, and in five minutes was +back with bread, meat, cheese, and a bottle of beer. +Hannibal Lepsius at this time could no more be said to +be sitting, but was half over the table, one knee on +the chair, poring with greed over that “stele,” as if +he would eat it with his gaze. I was about to say +something to him, when my ear was afresh reached by +the <i>sh-h-h</i> of Healy, like a whispering of leafage +fretted by a zephyr; so I placed the victuals on Healy’s +knees, sat before him, and commenced to question +him; but it was many minutes before his stuffed +mouth could bring out a syllable.</p> + +<p>“Why were you so famished?” I asked him, +“since you had money to pay railway-fare?”</p> + +<p>With his lips at my ear, he answered: “It was a +question of time, mum—no time to eat, no time to +sleep; but that’s good meat, that is, and that’s good +beer, too.”</p> + +<p>“Was he, then, in such a hurry to return to his +marriage?” I asked.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</span></p> + +<p>The man looked at me under his eyes—strangely, I +thought—and replied, “I know nothing of that, +mum; but we went to see London, and we saw it in a +tear, I tell you, and we left it in a tear, for by the end +of the third day London had got a bit too hot for us.”</p> + +<p>“Why, how was that?” I asked him.</p> + +<p>“Truth is,” he whispered, “some of us have been +putting into our pockets more than what belongs to +us!”</p> + +<p>“What!” I said.</p> + +<p>“<i>Sh-h-h</i>,” he went.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bowden’s clock just then struck one, and +glancing round at it, I beheld Hannibal Lepsius bent +yet further over the table, poring upon that stone, and +heard him whimper over it as if in pain.</p> + +<p>“What is he doing?” I whispered to Healy.</p> + +<p>“Lord knows, mum,” he whispered back.</p> + +<p>“So the London police were after him?”</p> + +<p>“That’s so.”</p> + +<p>“What a thing!” I said in awe.</p> + +<p>“Thrice in three days!” he whispered; “aye, and +that second time it was a close go with us, too, seeing +that he wouldn’t let go hold of me—a thousand people +after us through London streets, if there was one, and +he dragging me, thinking that I am against him, too, +and want to betray him. That’s hard, too, that’s hard. +Here am I, mum, Dr. Lepsius’ servant—I’d give this +hand for the doctor—yet keeping the lad dark from +the doctor, going against the doctor, mind, knowing +that I am doing wrong, but no more able to help it +than a man addicted to liquor, I am that given up to +the lad; yet he keeps me as his prisoner, I who’d +race after him to hell; thinks I want to run away and +betray him to everybody, can’t believe in a motive +that’s not selfish, it’s hard.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</span></p> + +<p>“You haven’t, then, written to tell his father that +you have found him?” I asked.</p> + +<p>“God forgive me, no,” he answered with a bent +head; “though I have had chances to do it, too, mum, +and the doctor must be in as much of a wonder what’s +come to me as what’s come to Master Hanni. God +forgive me! for never I’ll forgive myself on this side +Jordan. And all to pleasure the lad—but he can’t see +it, keeps me as a prisoner, it’s hard.”</p> + +<p>“But what did he do in London? what did he +think of the ladies there? was he really chased by the +London people?” I asked, for I could not whisper my +questions fast enough to satisfy my inquisitiveness.</p> + +<p>Healy answered yes, that the sandals and bauge +shirt of Shunter Island had been chased with hue and +cry all up Tottenham Court Road at midday, and +twice by night in other places; and that not the +London police only were after him, for that he had no +sooner stepped from the train down here than a constable +laid hands on him; but he had filliped the constable +in the face, and run away, making to the cave +to get the “stele,” which he seemed to be extremely +eager to get, and then had run up here, dragging +Healy with him.</p> + +<p>“And he actually filliped the constable?” I said to +Healy: “he is no longer, then, at all in awe of his +‘Man’?”</p> + +<p>Healy grinned a grimace to himself, and throwing +up his hands a little, whispered to me, “All idiots! +that was the verdict on the second night—about eight +o’clock, mum, drizzling, hazy night, he and I sitting +in one of those recesses of Waterloo Bridge, and over +the river a sight, mum, greatly like a fairyland going +on in a haze, with that host of lights.... So he sits +awhile there, weary from the two days’ tear, looking<span class="pagenum" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</span> +at the traffic rolling over the bridge; then getting up +on the seat, he leans over the parapet; and presently, +as he was there looking down upon the river, I hear +him say to himself ‘idiots,’ and then I hear him say +‘all, all,’ with a sort of wail, shaking his head a bit, +and then I see him bury his face in his hands, and a +sound came out of him that at first was more like +crying, but afterwards was more like laughing; and +from that minute he was eager to get back down here +to his cave.”</p> + +<p>I looked round at Hannibal Lepsius, and now saw +his body all across the table, with one knee also on it, +for, in the keenness of his strain as to that “stele,” he +had been pushing it inch by inch from him and following +it; and now his brow was all brown and engorged, +his eyes were glaring at the object like a maniac’s, and +now also a sort of groan broke out of his breast.</p> + +<p>When I turned back to Healy to continue our conversation, +I found that during those few moments +that I had been looking away his brow had dropped in +sleep; and I was just disengaging from his fingers the +glass that he had been drinking from lest he should +drop it, when I became aware of a tapping at the little +door at the back. I stole out to it, I opened it, and +now, heavens! my soul faints within me when I behold +standing there the big Inspector Gibbon, together +with that graceful young constable of Thring +with the moustache, whose name is Shooter.</p> + +<p>“We have found him at last,” remarks Inspector +Gibbon, for they had seen the light, climbed a little +by the spout outside, and seen the young man poring +over the stele.</p> + +<p>“But what has he done?” I asked them, with a +trembling about my right knee, hearing, as I asked it, +Mrs. Bowden’s clock strike twice.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</span></p> + +<p>“There are no less than five counts against him,” +answered Inspector Gibbon, “three from London, two +down here; let’s have the beauty out”—and he +steps within the doorway.</p> + +<p>At once now with a wild heart I darted back into +Mrs. Bowden’s room, to whisper to the young man, +“I am afraid that two officers are come to arrest +you!”</p> + +<p>He groaned, without glancing up from his poring +over that stone. I waited several seconds, hearing the +clock tick, and my own heart as loudly pounding. +Healy also, who had started awake, now sat staring +with an open mouth.</p> + +<p>“What shall I say to the two officers?” I asked the +young man.</p> + +<p>Again he groaned grievously, but did not glance up +at me, and again I stood in suspense some seconds; +till now he in an absent way, still without glancing +up, mumbled at me, “Bring them here.”</p> + +<p>I ran out, and found the officers already at the door: +in another moment they were standing within the +housekeeper’s room. Hanni Lepsius was now on +his feet awaiting them, and the instant they appeared +he stepped up to them, saying, “Now, I wish you to +take me; take me—only be swift.”</p> + +<p>“You are a beauty——” Inspector Gibbon began +to say, taking the young man by one arm, while +Shooter took him by the other; but Hannibal Lepsius +cut short his words, saying to him, “Yes, I know: +you all delight in the waste of time, the waste of +words. But come, take me, and I shall know now +with certainty whether you are of the smallest worth.” +The boy now pointed out of the back door at the old +oak tree that stands there in the courtyard about twelve +yards from the door. “You see that oak tree,” he<span class="pagenum" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</span> +said to them: “only get me past that, and not only +will I go with you the rest of the way to prison, but +four hundred pounds which I stole in London shall +be for your private use”—and how earnestly he spoke +to them! turning from one to the other, instilling his +meaning into their ears as into the ears of people hard +of hearing, while they calmly smiled upon him with +a contempt for him equal to his concern for them. +“You are poor,” he told them, “ah, poor even to +meanness, even to shame; and here in this pocket is +the money. Rouse yourselves now, then! <i>Ask</i> +yourselves, ‘How can he escape us?’ Not by +strength!—each of you is as strong as I. By craft, +then? Surely, only by craft!”—turning from one to +the other, pleading earnestly at the ear of each in turn. +“But there are at most only six possible ways,” he +said, “in which, by craft, even a lord of Mars or +Venus, I think, could escape you. Think in lightning +<i>now</i> of those ways! Rouse, rouse yourselves! +Oh, rouse, rouse, now, all those dark powers that profoundly +drowse in your soul! Look round the room: +for the means by which I choose to escape lie here +before your face; nor are you idiots born, your brain +has the same bulk, your reason is equal to mine, only +it deeply sleeps—oh, dull, dull, dull—and wakefulness +is bliss, wakefulness is life——”</p> + +<p>“Oh, come, no more of it,” now said Inspector +Gibbon, interrupting him with a good-natured disdain, +drawing the young man away; and Hannibal +Lepsius uttered no other word.</p> + +<p>They took him to the back door, Healy and I following +mutely behind, and down the two steps they +went, and across the yard toward the oak tree and the +swing-gate that is close by the south garden-wall. +The moon was about at her full in a sky without one<span class="pagenum" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</span> +cloud in it, so that I could see that the boy’s right foot, +as he walked, was drawing part of the coil of rope +from the stables which generally lies just there by the +back door; and I whispered to Healy, “He has got +his leg entangled in the rope!”</p> + +<p>They were by this time not three feet from the old +oak tree, Inspector Gibbon at the young man’s right +arm, Shooter at the left, keeping a strong grip, I could +see, and a cautious guard, since they had been so +warned; nor had I, for my part, the least expectation +of seeing him escape them ere they reached the tree, +or indeed at any time; but all at once, just as they +reached the tree, without even the least effort I now +beheld him easily free; and the next instant one saw a +sight!—the two constables all entangled, and Hannibal +Lepsius running furiously round and round the +tree, ever with every revolution at a shorter distance +from it, the rope in his hand, roping with many +whorles the two men to the tree. I never was so curiously +affected, I think, by any sight—with a feeling of +religion and hallelujah, I may say, the two men’s bulk +of flesh looking so abject and helpless in the hands of +that wit, like hippopotami with their insignificant +skulls: though how he had contrived to escape out of +their grasp without a struggle I still had no idea. To +tie their hands, their arms being already bound, was +to him not the work of a minute, and suddenly he was +rushing back to the house, dashed inward past Healy +and me without a word, and by the time we two had +returned to Mrs. Bowden’s room, he was already +whining and whimpering anew over his stone, as if +nothing had happened.</p> + +<p>“But in what way——?” I began to say to him, +when Healy’s “<i>sh-h-h</i>” again checked my tongue; +so in the corner Healy and I discussed in agitated<span class="pagenum" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</span> +whispers what had taken place. When I asked Healy +if he knew in what manner the young man had escaped +the police, he answered by asking me, “What’s in +that little bottle on the table?”</p> + +<p>At this I felt myself fly red to the roots of my hair! +for he meant the vial of vitriol which, procured at +Wynton on the 27th, I have been foolishly fingering +ever since.</p> + +<p>“How should I know what is in the vial?” I said +to Healy.</p> + +<p>“Well, whatever it is,” he said, “it is something +that makes cloth rotten in a tick, for when you went +out to tell the officers to come in, he dipped a match +into the vial, drew with the match a circle on each of +his shirt sleeves, and now, you see, the two pieces of +shirt have disappeared”—and in truth the young +man’s arm nearest me was showing through a hole in +his shirt, so I understood that by the working of the +vitriol the two pieces of shirt had come away in the +policemen’s hands. I had begun to say, “Well, it was +not so wonderful, after all, now that one knows +how——” when one of the bound men began to shout +out for succour; upon which Hanni Lepsius groaned +within himself over his stone, and, without glancing +up, told Healy to go and give them to know that if +they made but one other outcry before the daybreak +he would gag and agonise them; so Healy hastened +out to say this, and thenceforth the two men remained +mum.</p> + +<p>After this Healy and I talked in our corner till the +clocks tolled three, by which time both our heads +were ready to nod, our words dried up, and still on in +the soundless night worked Hanni Lepsius over that +stone. I did not hear four strike, for I was in a little +sleep; but immediately after half-past four I heard, or<span class="pagenum" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</span> +dreamed that I heard, a laugh somewhere, and I +started awake, aware that his study of the stone was +over, and that he was standing at my side.</p> + +<p>At once, as I opened my eyes, he handed me the +vial of vitriol, bowing a little, and smiling.</p> + +<p>“What is this?” I asked him.</p> + +<p>“It is oil of vitriol,” replies the boy.</p> + +<p>I ought, if I had had my wits, to have asked him +why he handed it to me! but, being only half-awake +and confused, I foolishly took the thing and put it +down without finding a word to say; and I saw his +gaze linger strangely upon me. Then he said, “I +am very hungry.”</p> + +<p>I ran and fetched him bread, cheese, and water, for +he will eat no meat; and it was while eating that he +asked me whether I had with me those two hundred +pounds which I had told him that I had hoarded. I +replied that I had with me ninety pounds only; he +then demanded of me if I had this in metal or in notes, +and on my replying “in notes,” he said that he desired +to see at once what a banknote is like, and would +I run and bring him the money that he might see. +Proud to do him a pleasure, though it was a journey +through the house at that hour, I light my candle, I +set off, and soon return with my roll of notes. He sat +with them, fingering, holding them up to the gas, +while I, with my hand on his shoulder, remarked that +all that was to begin our little <i>ménage</i>, informed him +that everything had been arranged for our marriage, +and asked him when that little affair was to be. His +answer was that it should be that very day at two +o’clock, and I felt my heart start once and cease to +beat, my right knee trembling like a string. While I +stood thus agitated behind him, he, examining the banknotes, +requests me to give him an envelope; so I go<span class="pagenum" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</span> +to Mrs. Bowden’s desk, I get an envelope, and, as I +give this to him, he hands me back my roll of notes, +takes the envelope, puts into it a piece of tissue-paper, +on which he had written some words with a stump of +blue pencil, fastens the envelope, and with the pencil +writes on it the words, “To Eve Vickery.”</p> + +<p>I started! and I started anew when he said to me, +“Hand this to that lady when she awakes.”</p> + +<p>“But what do you mean?” I said, shrinking from +him; “do you, then, wish to outrage me? and do you +suppose that I would do such a thing, really?”</p> + +<p>“You will,” he said; and to Healy, “Come.”</p> + +<p>“But stay!” I cried; “at what hour of the day +do I see you?...”</p> + +<p>He was already at the door of the room, but came +back a little, saying, “At noon; and the marriage at +two”—whereupon he anew picks up the vial of +vitriol from the table, hands it to me, and goes +through the doorway—the good God only knows why +he did this.</p> + +<p>I darted after, caught him at the back door, and, +casting my arms about him, wet his cheek with my +kisses and tears. He made no remark, save to say, +“Do not release those police until twenty minutes +past five”; and he went.</p> + +<p>The moon had set, and the new day hardly yet +dawning, but I could see him go past the oak tree +without a glance at the two prisoners, and go away +like ghosts, he and his Healy, through the swing-gate +close by the south garden-wall.</p> + +<p>I had then to sit up till twenty past five, as he had +said, to release the police, when I brought them in, +gave them some breakfast, and impressed it upon them +that it was useless for them to seek him, since he was +“gone away,” I said; and even if he was not, they<span class="pagenum" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</span> +could never get him, I said: a statement which they +seemed to believe, for they were very dejected and +shivering.</p> + +<p>It is now near seven, and here I still sit, even now +not sleepy, for this is the day of my life. What is in +my heart? Is it peace? Is it dancing? I think I +have a fear....</p> + +<p>It will soon be time to be at Miss Eve’s bedside. +Of course, I shall not give her the envelope, though +he said with assurance that I will; but I have not as +yet opened it to see what is in it, for I fear his consciousness +of things.... There is something solid +in it, like the half of a halfpenny, and a chain....</p> + +<p>The 29th, at nine in the night. He has robbed me +of my savings, he has abandoned me, he is gone for +ever!... No, my God, I cannot write, my head +cannot hold itself up.</p> + +<p>The 30th. I will vitriolise him. God knows, that +will not be easy, he has many eyes, it will be almost +impossible: but those great men who make discoveries +which amaze the creation—in what manner do they +accomplish this? I think it is not because their wits +are so vastly more than those of ordinary folk, but +because their lives are wholly devoted to one thing +only, as my life henceforth will be wholly devoted to +this alone. God help me in this; it will be only after +years of effort that I can even hope to do it, but one +day, if God be my Helper, it will be done “al-right.”</p> + +<p>When at two yesterday he could not be anywhere +found, I opened with steam the envelope addressed to +Miss Eve, and found that he had written on the piece +of tissue-paper in it the words, “Beldam Eve, farewell +for two years, from your slave for ever, Hannibal +Lepsius. Please tell Jeanne Auvache where I have +laid her money.” The meaning of this last phrase I<span class="pagenum" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</span> +could not for fully an hour make any sense of, since +my brain was reeling round and round; then it occurred +to me to look anew at the roll of notes that he +had handed me back, and when I now flew to them, I +found that only the two outer ones were now notes, +all within being mere stuffing of tissue-paper. For a +long time I lay on the floor by the trunk, feeling myself +ruined, for the loss of even a franc has always +appeared irreparable to me, and here were two +thousand francs departed by fraud, for ever, out of +my life. But after a time I thought of the words in +the note to Miss Eve, “Please tell Jeanne Auvache +where I have laid her money,” and without stopping +to ask myself how Miss Eve could know this, I picked +myself up to run straight to her with the note, no +more caring whether she noticed that I had opened it, +for I cared for nothing. First, however, I tried to +detach the half-coin from the note—it was the half of +a sovereign which had been split in two, and through +a hole in it passed one of those little chains such as +medallions are hung from round infants’ necks; but +he had artfully gummed the half-coin to the tissue-paper +just by the words “please tell Jeanne Auvache,” +and, as I could not get away the coin without tearing +the paper, I ran with the whole to Miss Eve in the +eagerness of my hope to get back my money—forgetting +at the moment that this was even what that fiend +had foretold that I would do. Miss Eve was in her +boudoir alone, reading in her rocking-chair, and suddenly, +without rapping, I was there before her, holding +out the note and chain. She lifts her eyes, and instantly +a faint flush flew to suffuse her face. “What is +it?” says she, taking the thing, and in one moment +her eyes had run over the words, she had thrown the +note aside with a little motion of the wrist in a little<span class="pagenum" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</span> +hurry, like one brushing off a fly, and was anew perusing +her book.</p> + +<p>“Miss Vickery,” I said, “can you tell me where +my money is laid?”</p> + +<p>Anew she lifts her eyes, looks at me silently, and +from that look I knew at once that that phrase in the +note had only been put into it so as to ensure that +Miss Eve should receive the note; for he knew that I +would open the envelope, and that Miss Eve knew +nothing as to where my money is, for how could she? +My money is in his pocket, that is where my money +is, my two thousand francs.</p> + +<p>The 31st. I was not allowed to get out of bed to-day, +and ah, these English, they are frigid, they are +hard on the surface, but beneath they are tenderer and +better than all the world. I expected that Miss Ruth +would lavish the compassion of her ever-wounded +bosom upon my grief, but I have been even deeper +touched by the goodness of Miss Eve. When, in one +of the paroxysms, I cried, “Miss Vickery, I will +vitriolise, I will vitriolise him, if it is in fifteen years +to come!” she, with a look that flashed anger at me, +began to say, “You shameful woman!” but then +rushed to the bed and warmly embraced me in her +arms, murmuring many times in words of wooing, +“Poor bruised heart, poor wounded woman,” with +water swimming in her eyes, while I wept on her. A +French lady would not have kissed me on the lips.... +In the afternoon when I knew that she was below, I +stole from bed, and, creeping to her boudoir, peeped +in to see if the tissue-paper note with the half of a +sovereign was yet on the card-table, whither she had +brushed it from her; but it had vanished.</p> + +<p>The 2nd. I must go away, and in haste, since this +holy house is no place for me to linger one hour in,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</span> +with my heart all a nest of hissing asps. I recognise +it to be an incongruity, as a devil in disguise in high +heaven might be. Miss Eve would have me revoke +the notice to leave that I have given her: but I will +go. In truth, thy youth is over, Jeanne, thy last hope +of happiness has perished, thy very last rose is ashes. +Is it not certainly a dog’s world? and I will get back +into it black and bitter, a hag at heart, bidding good-bye +to the time of bloom, to all beauties of youth, +abandoning my being recklessly to rancour and +wrinkles, decay and tragedy and destruction. I do +not care, I will vitriolise him, if he live as high from +me as the sky, and within a week, I swear it, will have +left this place and these people....</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X.<br> + + +<span class="sm">“THE MOON.”</span></h2> +</div> + +<p>The narrative of Jeanne Auvache, which continues yet +through three volumes, may here be dropped, and what +else took place may be gleaned from the “Memoirs” +of Monsieur Goncourt Leflô (Prefect of the Seine), and +from the “Notes” of Saïd Pasha (Chargé d’Affaires), +together with jottings and gossips of other witnesses.</p> + +<p>In that place which used, I think, to be called “La +Plage,” but is now the Club des Décavés, a crowd one +afternoon sat surveying the Avenue du Bois de +Boulogne. (The Décavés is far up at the top of the +Avenue by the Arc de Triomphe, from which point +the throngs of bicyclists who have toiled up the incline +of the Champs Elysées put their legs up, give themselves +to God, and by Him are taken gaily down the +long-drawn-out incline to the Bois, like boats in the +river of carriages which rolls droning down.) It was +an afternoon in June, and everyone who knows his +“capital of the universe” at all knows that sight, +whose mood, in its large-minded worldliness, is rather +to be recalled than to be described.</p> + +<p>The Décavés itself, with people coming, going, +sitting, sipping, gossiping, was a scene of no little +vivacity; and to a new-comer, as he stepped up, one +of a group of three said eagerly, “You have heard, +Leflô?”</p> + +<p>“Well, naturally, one has heard,” answered +Monsieur Leflô, the Prefect, as he sat, “inasmuch as<span class="pagenum" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</span> +one cannot dodge the omnipresent, and all Paris is +talking of it.”</p> + +<p>“But what an indiscretion!” cried Monsieur +Isabeau Thiéry.</p> + +<p>“A public embrace at the Foreign Office, my +friends!” added the Abbé Sauriau, his plump palms +spread a little.</p> + +<p>“But, then, everything is possible at the Foreign +Office,” remarked the Prefect of the Seine: “above +all, dizziness of the head.”</p> + +<p>“This, however, my friends,” now said the old Duc +de Rey-Drouilhet, “is an incident, not of the Third +Republic, but of the Second Empire! Transfer the +scene to the Bal Morel, and the lady might have been +Païva, as the male Plon-Plon,” whereat Isabeau +Thiéry shook backward his lion’s mane of hair with, +“It may be an incident of the Third Empire, which +we see beginning—unless by chance a patriot or two +still exists in France.” (“He was”—to quote from +the “Notes” of Saïd Pasha—“one of the tribe of poet-politicians—the +Hugos, Lamartines, Châteaubriands—and +though neither his poetry, nor even his politics, +was at all equal to theirs, Thiéry, as we know, took +himself awfully seriously, excelling them all, since +not in head, at any rate in hair, in his spread of hatrim +and La Vallière cravat, whose crimson hue proved +him “of the Left.”)</p> + +<p>“But was it Lepsius who did this?” now said the +Abbé Sauriau, his tumbler of byrrh brought half-way +up to his broad mouth: “Lepsius, the Nazarene, +reeling beneath the mead of Venus! This Puritan, +whose existence is presumed to be made up of a race +with the sun, to whom a speck of dust appears a heap +of leprosy, and the loss of a minute the loss of a +province?... This Lepsius, indeed, is a myth<span class="pagenum" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</span> +he has contrived by chance to create in men’s minds +a Lepsius-Phantasm, as there is a ‘Napoleonic +Legend’; but oh, if he had but a real existence! +Who in that case, my friends, could fail to revere this +furious reaper of the tickings of the clock, who lives +with one eye on a second-hand, and with the other, I +am told, on a pyramid of thrones? Do you know the +story that is told of what he replied to Proudhon <i>ainé</i>, +who at that time was one of the Quæstors of the +Chamber, when Proudhon <i>ainé</i> said to him, ‘To-morrow, +monsieur, it shall be done’? The answer +of Lepsius—as they say—was, ‘Monsieur, believe me, +to-day is each man’s last, last chance, for it will be +doubly impossible for him to effect to-morrow just that +which he may effect to-day, since to-morrow it will be +all an altered world, he an altered man in it.’... Is +it <i>he</i>, my friends, whom we find engaging in an amour +so touched with giddiness that it may not wait for +privacy?”</p> + +<p>“A propos of ‘the clock,’” remarked the old Duc +de Rey-Drouilhet, his little hand all aflash with +diamonds in the sunshine, “Freycinet <i>fils</i> is said to +have remarked this afternoon at Tortoni’s that then at +least, during the kiss, Monsieur Lepsius lost reckoning +of the clock, seeing that his eyes were tight closed! +And it is now being said round about the Palais-Bourbon +of Cardinal Pontmartin, who has declared +that the kiss lasted a minute and eight seconds by the +clock, ‘How could the Prelate have seen the clock, +when those holy eyes of his must have been poring +upon Paradise revealed before them!’—a <i>mot</i> at +which the titter and grin of the beau set his (!) teeth +atremble with a rather ghastly glitter on his gums.</p> + +<p>“But as to the lady——” Isabeau Thiéry began to +say at the same moment that the old gossip exclaimed,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</span> +“Here comes Saïd Pasha, one of the keenest listeners +and best observers in Paris”—and a brown man with +a firm lip, perfectly turned out, came up to the table, +the duke observing to him, “Monsieur, one is conscious +from the very blush of your boots that you +bring with you much that is new.”</p> + +<p>“But, Monsieur le Duc, they were not polished by +myself,” replied Saïd Pasha innocently—a reply which +raised a smile! since everybody knew that the duke, +in the course of a very varied career, had had need to +be his own menial.</p> + +<p>“In any case, you can enlighten us as to the identity +of the lady who is on the tapis in connection with a +certain individual,” said Isabeau Thiéry to Saïd +Pasha, who at that time was generally supposed to +be in quite the inner <i>côterie</i> of the Palais-Lepsius; +but in the same instant that the staid and cautious +<i>chargé d’affaires</i> was asking what lady was meant, the +duc was saying, “Here, too, comes Monsieur the +Englishman,” and one Mr. E. Reader Meade, an +attaché at the Faubourg St. Honoré, walked up—a +man who, because of his bulk, and of that mass of +face on which was written “phlegm” and “judgment,” +was often in the Paris of that day nicknamed +“the Englishman.” As he approached, the aged +gossip, holding up his eye-glass before a dilapidated +eye, made the observation, “But do I read aright in +Monsieur Meade’s air that he is unaware of anything +having happened?”</p> + +<p>“Very possibly, Monsieur le Duc,” replied the +Englishman, sitting down, “since I only arrived from +London an hour ago”—at which confession of benightedness, +in a moment the old Duc de Rey-Drouilhet +was at Meade’s ear, leaning over, tittering +forth the story with no little vivacity—Soirée last night<span class="pagenum" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</span> +at the Quai d’Orsay—all the Faubourg St. Honoré +there, much of the Faubourg St. Germain itself, not +to mention a Chausée d’Antin mob—in the grand +<i>salon</i> the <i>quadrille d’honneur</i> had already begun, the +Prince of Wales the partner of Madame la Ministre—out +in the vestibule, moving in, a crowd—in its midst +the young Lepsius and his usual retinue—also a lady, +supposed to be English, who at any rate was under +the chaperonage of the English Comtesse de Pichegru-Picard; +this lady and a certain individual gradually +work together through the throng, by accident, say +some, by design or blind desire, say others—do not, +however, seem to see each other—move on with the +crowd, shoulder to shoulder, without speech or look—till +for some reason two of the electric jets chance to +go dark, leaving the vestibule in partial gloom, whereupon +that pale dark face of a certain individual turns +toward the lady’s pale fair face—the lady’s pale face +turns somewhat toward his—and, according to +Cardinal Pontmartin, who was quite near the pair, +their wide and wild eyes stare awhile at each other +with a stare of scare, of even the extreme of terror, as +in apprehension of some impending crash and +catastrophe—until now the lips of Lepsius pounce +upon the lady’s—nor does the good girl turn hers +away, gives herself gallantly up to the vertigo and +whirl of it, smiling though white, her eyes closed, his +eyes closed—the crowd looking on in an amazement so +profound, that Cardinal Pontmartin had since declared +that his hair could not but have stood on end, +if he had had any, as beyond all question would +the hair of the good Comtesse de Pichegru-Picard, if +it had been real.”</p> + +<p>“And we who imagined that Society under the +Third Empire was destined to be as earnest and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</span> +<i>bourgeoise</i> as was that under the Citizen Monarchy,” +remarked Isabeau Thiéry with sarcasm when the old +duke had concluded the story, to which Mr. E. Reader +Meade replied with a smile, “But what can be more +‘<i>bourgeois</i>’ than kissing, monsieur, or more ‘earnest’ +than such a kiss?”</p> + +<p>“Such a kiss,” the Abbé Sauriau said, “is a proof, +my friends, of nothing save of Lepsius’ disdain of +mankind, since he certainly weighed the thirty or so +pairs of eyes which observed that kiss as lightly as +lovers on a stile weigh the eyes of kine which watch +them. Do you know the story that is told of his +answer to Marshal Macintosh, à propos of the +Marshal’s remark that a foreigner, even after a +hundred years, is never regarded and behugged by the +French as a Frenchman? Lepsius replied, ‘It may +be nice to be loved, monsieur, but what is nicer far +is to be disliked, to behold yourself surrounded by +people thirsting like Tantalus to hurt you, and to +behold them powerless, because of your towering +superiority.’ So you see, my friends: Napoleon regarded +men mainly as pawns in his game; Monsieur +Lepsius, in his more <i>savant</i> mood, regards them as +gorillas in his garden of zoology”—and now the abbé’s +eyes shot out beneath his bush of eyebrow a beam of +bile, bush that burned, yet was not consumed, while +Isabeau Thiéry’s eyes, quick as tinder, caught fire +also, for company.</p> + +<p>Saïd Pasha, however, with a frown, was saying, +“Oh, pardon, Monsieur l’Abbé!... This anecdote +of the reply of Monsieur Lepsius to Marshal +Macintosh is, indeed, known; but I need hardly remark +that to repeat is not quite to prove, and, in fact, +the words are so unlike the individual to whom they +are attributed, that I have even ventured to assert that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</span> +they were never uttered by Monsieur Lepsius, the +mood of whose converse is usually much more taciturn. +As to Monsieur l’Abbé’s mention of gorillas, I think +I have the honour to know that Monsieur Lepsius is +far too exact an intellect to regard mankind precisely +in that light, but rather, let us say, as sons of Hannaman, +the ape-god of the Brahmins; and as to the +alleged kiss at the Quai d’Orsay, of which, by the way, +everyone in Paris is spreading about a different account, +I am able to state that its occurrence, if it +occurred, was the result of no world-disdain, but +simply of one of those magnetic gales that deflect even +the needle of the compass. After all, as was said in +a certain Orléaniste <i>salon</i> not thirty minutes since, ‘it +takes two to make a kiss,’ and since the lady is not +accused of world-disdain, I do not see why the male.”</p> + +<p>At this Monsieur Leflô—a little quick personality, +whose hairs grew like a wig of bristles—ogled Isabeau +Thiéry with, “We are all aware that the utiliser of +the moon has a champion wherever Saïd Pasha is +present!”</p> + +<p>“But, Monsieur le Prefect,” said Saïd Pasha, +sudden and quick in quarrel, “am I charged with +partisanship for aught but the simple truth?”</p> + +<p>“No, monsieur,” replied the Prefect dryly, “even +though it is a matter of common talk that Saïd Pasha +once shed tears of admiration at the sight of a certain +individual racing with camels from a sand-storm near +Khartoum, and from that moment became a hero-worshipper. +So it is said—I was not there. In any +case, I beg leave to question the ‘magnetic gale’ by +which you explain this embrace, since I believe that +the reason of it is quite a different one than people +conceive.”</p> + +<p>At this Saïd Pasha’s brow bowed low, with the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</span> +reply, “We know that Monsieur Leflô is a prefect +who is a Fouché and a Réal in one.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, as for that,” Leflô answered in his off-hand +way, “it requires no spy of the Rue de Jerusalem to +recognise the truth that this kiss was no result of +vertigo, but of a political purpose.”</p> + +<p>“That is only the truth,” added the old Due de +Rey-Drouilhet, “since it is certain that a certain +individual ‘knows his Paris’—more perfectly +knows it than Napoleon the First, as perfectly +perhaps as Napoleon the Third; and knowing +that your Parisian, as Victor Hugo has observed, +must for ever be grinning the teeth, +either in a laugh or in a snarl, the arch-gamester +never permits himself to forget that there must be no +flagging in the game, since in Paris to be out of sight +is to be out of mind, and so seeks continually to +<i>épater les gens</i>, keeping himself alive in the public +eye by breaking ever anew upon it in a new attitude +and costume, and invariably with an <i>éclat</i> whose +radiance blinds. No, this gentleman is hardly one of +those who like to shine in the dark! If for once in +his life he tears his lips from the telephone to apply +them to those of a lady, he takes care that there shall +be as many eye-witnesses to the event as when some +months ago he used to assume the rôle of Haroun al +Raschid by appearing in an incognito of rags in the +thieves’ kitchens of the Quartier Mouffetard, where he +engaged in a knife-fight with a Spaniard, and in a +cangiar-fight with two Moors who had attacked him. +For here, my friends, we meet with the scenic skill +of a Bonaparte in combination with the ambitious +mania of a Thiers, Bismarck’s steel, that art-genius for +<i>Welt-politik</i> of a Cæsar Borgia, and——”</p> + +<p>“All possibly true,” interrupted the Abbé Sauriau,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</span> +“but the thing that this very young man lacks is a +certain humanity and nativeness to the world: for a +man above the world he may be, since they say so, +but one discerns that, with all his worldliness, he is +hardly a man of the world. How perfect, how +Parisian even, his manners when he likes; but one +gleans that they have been but recently acquired, and +girt on externally for a purpose, as Cato learned +Greek at eighty. He lacks a <i>je ne sais quoi</i> which +no one lacks. If he laughs, one feels that he has said +to himself, ‘Just here I will do a laugh, in order to +produce such or such an impression upon this brute-mind.’ +All men, indeed, are actors: but Lepsius is +an actor who acts acting, like the players in <i>Hamlet</i>, +and I am not certain whether he is to be considered +the best of the world’s actors, or the worst: for ‘the +brute-mind’ is frequently not so brute as not to perceive +that his art lacks the art to conceal its art, +owing to the fact that he shares in the mistake made +by each superior mind in deeming the difference between +himself and other beings deeper than it really +is. Hence, for all his brains, a certain <i>gaucherie</i> in +his being, a grimace, a guffaw, in relation to the +world, to which he is innately a stranger. How very +alien to our humanity, for example, the commercial +use which he has proposed of the bodies of the dead, +a use which he pretends would solve the world-problem +of poverty. On that afternoon, too, when +the Moon Company Bill was being introduced, and +he in the Centre began to scratch his head with one +finger in the manner of Cæsar—a signal to his creature +Huguenin on the extreme left to scream, ‘Cæsar! +Cæsar!’ in a bogus tone of indignation—the intention, +as everybody knows, was that the whole Chamber +should take up the roar and reverberate it through<span class="pagenum" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</span> +France; but not one soul took it up! The trick was +immediately seen through by each French +child...!”</p> + +<p>“Yes, last August,” said Mr. E. Reader Meade, +gazing away at all the throng and flutter of the scene, +“last August, when the individual in question had +not yet been two months a factor in politics; but nine +biggish months of world-knowledge, of archive-searching, +of worming in the Big Book,<a id="FNanchor_2" href="#Footnote_2" class="fnanchor">[B]</a> have since +gone by——”</p> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a id="Footnote_2" href="#FNanchor_2" class="label">[B]</a> National Debt Ledger.</p> +</div> + +<p>“My friends,” answered the Abbé Sauriau, still +with his Jesuit blandness, though his bush burned, +“I have quite recently been in personal contact with +the individual in question, and still I say that I receive +from him, as previously, the impression of a +being destitute of humour.... He does not please; +he cannot speak to you: for though his memory which, +I admit, is no bad one, should render him the best of +<i>causeurs</i>, his uneasy feeling that idle speaking is a +crime renders him the worst.... Oh, I am not +demolishing any idol! Why, my friends, should I? +You have lately listened to that charge brought against +me in the Chamber by Maître Tombarel, the charge +of intellectual egoism and envy. I cannot, it appears, +be envious of a Rockefeller or a Mogul, but I go green +with envy, it appears, on hearing a great epigram that +I did not myself think of making. Well, I deny +it.... If to my little books my contemporaries have +too amiably granted the name of ‘great,’ does that +impede my conceiving the possibility of some brain +brighter, greater, being made by Nature? Or, can +<i>no</i> mind really conceive, and frankly admit to itself, +a mind of better fibre than itself? I—don’t know; or +rather! <i>my</i> mind could and would, I am most sure, +if—the occasion arose. Thus I can speak, I hope, of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</span> +the individual in question without spleen; indeed, I +have even been touched with a feeling of compassion +for this poor boy, so joylessly toiling, all lone and +lorn, fatherless, a stone thrown from Utopia—for who +could picture him in the rôle of a son? And did he +not once say to Freycinet <i>père</i>, ‘Monsieur the Président +of the Senate,’ said he, ‘I never had a parent.’ +Never, at any rate, a brother being, a friend probably, +climbing his mountain-way without quite knowing +why or whither, but willy-nilly climbing.... Oh, +my friends, it is not through jealousy, but for pity, +that men should be busying themselves in bottling up +the buzzing of this bee.”</p> + +<p>To words so bold no one answered anything, till +Isabeau Thiéry observed, “From the bee honey, +though, as aroma from the rose, though the former <i>has</i> +its sting, as the latter its thorn.”</p> + +<p>“Ah, monsieur,” answered the Abbé Sauriau, +knowing on which nerve to work upon Thiéry, +“Brutuses, I fear, are even rarer than Cæsars!” +whereat, instantly, Isabeau Thiéry, with a new enthusiasm, +was crying, “Still, Monsieur l’Abbé, +Brutuses—exist!”</p> + +<p>“Quite so,” said Mr. Reader Meade, with a +twinkling eye on Thiéry, “but could a patriot be the +Brutus of a Cæsar, whose first work would be a +frontier reconstructed ‘as in 1814’?”—words which +had the effect of making Thiéry glance gladly at the +Englishman with the exclamation, “That, too, is a +truth, monsieur!” (“His, Thiéry’s, soul,” says +Saïd Pasha, in his <i>Paris Notes</i>, “was like meadows +over which sweep shadows that fleetly succeed each +other. He had no self, this man, but only a set of +stock concepts, borrowed emotions—provided only +that they were pure, enthusiastic, and high-souled.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</span> +Hence he was <i>the very serf</i> of certain catchwords! If +one breathed ‘Brutus’ nothing could keep the poet-politician +from leaping to his feet to butcher Lepsius, +if one but breathed ‘as in 1814,’ Thiéry was secretly +ready to press Lepsius to his breast.”)</p> + +<p>“But,” demands the old Duc de Rey-Drouilhet +now, smuggling a cachou into his mouth, “where is +the guarantee of the promise ‘as in 1814’? Certainly, +fancy pictures to us in that workshop of the Palais-Lepsius +the models of many a mechanism which will +whiff into wind the barricades of the next 18th +Brumaire or 2nd of December, to say nothing of the +<i>corps d’armée</i> of the Fatherland and the navies of +Albion. And, indeed, they exist, these legions of ingenious +steels! For it was but yesterday that Colonel +Doumic, whom Barras, of Public Works, and I met +at Bignon’s, was dropping hints of another wonderful +thing, a ‘steerable bullet,’ he said, which, it appears, +is to be both a bullet and a boat, being made with a +hole somewhere in its steel to hold a man, who will +steer it.... It appears, my friends, that the keel +of this contrivance will merely skim along the sea’s +surface, being upheld by the rebound of a gun or +something exploding downward, I forget how many +times a minute; and the boat so upheld will be swept +forward rocketwise by another succession of explosions, +like a motor-car; so that this thing will safely +visit vessel after vessel at bullet’s rate, with fatal results +to all a navy within some minutes. Doumic +should know, being one of the elect with the individual +in question: for is it not Doumic who already is +choosing the regiments to be quartered upon Paris, in +order to send them back to the provinces imbued, one +after the other, with this new-imperial dream? But +as for me, who am hardly still a youth, I little believe<span class="pagenum" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</span> +in dreams that are unrealised; I have witnessed many, +many things, and heard many words: I have heard +Cora Pearl hum the <i>Kyrie</i>, and I have beheld Alfred +de Musset sober. Hence to me the individual in +question is mainly a <i>directeur de spectacle forain</i>—a +famous one, it is true. His palaces that are like the +blasphemous gardens built to reproduce Paradise by +that king of Irim whom the gods struck blind for +arrogance—then the revels—his Moon-proposal—then +his riding of his <i>Chérie</i> to victory at Longchamp—his +Exhibition-proposal—then this kiss—each seems to +belong to a series of scenic——”</p> + +<p>“<i>Was</i> the kiss scenic?” asked Mr. E. Reader +Meade semi-privately of Saïd Pasha, upon which +Saïd Pasha undid his cross-looking lip to answer, +“No, monsieur. I state only a fact when I declare +that for over four months I have foreknown some such +collapse of the intellectual tension of the individual +in question—a collapse owing, I say again, to a +magnetic gale and to nothing else. Nor was this +thing at all sought by Monsieur Lepsius. He is not, +we are aware, by nature a Petrarch or Ortis; he is by +nature an athlete, an engineer, a financier, a juggler, +a sage—what you will, save a gallant; and as others +flee the pest, so he has fled this infirmity of his. All +which, by the way, I can state on the authority of a +man already known, I think, to Monsieur Meade, to +Monsieur l’Abbé Sauriau, and to Monsieur le Duc +de Rey-Drouilhet, one Shan Healy, who is known +to have followed Monsieur Lepsius from England to +Ceylon, to Japan, and other regions, some couple of +years ago: and from this man’s statement one is +afraid that the blame for what has taken place must +be laid upon the lady. In fact, although Monsieur +Lepsius certainly knew the young girl before his<span class="pagenum" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</span> +departure from Europe, and knew on his return that +she was then in France with her aunt, the Comtesse +de Pichegru-Picard, he appears to have given himself +no sort of pains to greet her again; nor was it until +some four months after his star had well risen over +the horizon, that the eyes of the two individuals in +question encountered one another on the Palais-Lepsius +roof, during the morning hours of that ball +that followed upon the passing of the Moon Bill. +We remember the sight, messieurs: a morning all +stars, the Champs Elysées all one swarm of carriage-lights +from the Arc de Triomphe to the Place de la +Concorde, the Palais-Lepsius looking like one of the +buildings of Chilminar or Balbec which the genii +are believed to have wished into being, and everyone +to be met there, save Monsieur Lepsius himself. +Monsieur Lepsius, it appears, had gone to sleep +during the rout at his usual hour, but at the hour of +three had roused himself to go up to his observatory, +no one but his servant being with him; and up there +he was, his gaze glued to his tube, a busy-body in +the concerns of other worlds, when the lady, as ladies +seem to conceive it their duty to do, smartly recalled +him to this one. ‘Oh! pardon,’ says she, and with +what object, or by what right, she had got herself +up thither is not known, though she was not the only +one of the guests who, beguiled by the desire of +the eye, were roaming <i>ad lib.</i> through the rooms of +the building that night. At all events, as her lips +part to pronounce her ‘pardon,’ the other individual +in question darts his glance round from the glass to +her, crouches there aghast some eight seconds, gazing, +dumb-struck, and—vanishes. Monsieur Healy declares +that his heart all but ceased to beat, believing +as he did that his master, who had darted out of a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</span> +casement, had cast his body headlong down! Well, +three several times since then have the two individuals——”</p> + +<p>But now, before the anecdotist could further go, a +sound arose and grew, not loud, but universal over +the grounds of the Club, the Avenue, l’Etoile—a +rumour in whose droning the word “Lepsius” was +to be heard, as a troop of Zouaves and Turcos, riding +all in their bright robes, broke into the ocean-current +of carriages that rolled through the Avenue. Up +from the Elysées they came, making down for the +Bois de Boulogne; and up soon after them trotted +another crowd of troopers—Moors, Hindoos—voluminous +in their vestments of various hues, carrying +javelins (jereeds), with streamers, on large +chargers which caracoled; and, close behind these, +three carriages with gentlemen-ushers, household +gentlemen; and up behind these outriders; grooms +costumed in green and gold; pigmies in jockey-caps, +from which hung fringes of gold; and up behind all +a phaeton hauled by Orloff horses that haughtily pawed +the air, to fling far their front-hoofs, trotting. In +this sat Lepsius. He was in mufti, but clearly no +“mere <i>pékin</i>,” the insignia of the Grand Cordon of +the Legion showing his connection with the Army; +and by his side sat a girl who looked American, +on her lap a scribbling-book, and flying in her fingers +a pencil. He, as he drove up, bowed repeatedly a +little to the buzz that droned about his ear, but without +ever once glancing upward, his lips never ceasing +to move and murmur to the girl whose fingers flew. +And away to the wood swept the wind of it.</p> + +<p>Everyone then turned anew to sip his <i>aperitif</i>, and +the old Duc de Rey-Drouilhet was anew observing +that turn-outs so perfect had not conquered the eye<span class="pagenum" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</span> +since “the early sixties,” when a man with white hair +that curled upward at his nape came up to the table +of our anecdotists to inquire whether the Comte de +Courcy had been with them, or had been noticed about +the club. “I had to meet the count here,” he explained; +and something humble, bowed down and sad +in his air touched their compunction. During the +moving-by of the cavalry troop he had been semi-secretly +eyeing the sight through trees some distance +from the street; then had come out to seek the count, +and now was about to fare farther, when all at once +the count himself was there with a raised hat, and +at once, grasping the old man’s hand, he began to +present “Dr. Lepsius” to the rest.</p> + +<p>“‘Lepsius’?” Isabeau Thiéry breathed the word.</p> + +<p>“<i>Need</i> I explain,” said Monsieur le Comte, taking +a chair, all business, all smiles, with dimples in the +chart of his large face, “that there may be many men +of that name?—<i>not</i> necessarily related by ties of +family? which ties, in any case, can never possess +much weight in the matter of politics. So that if by +chance we here are all a harmony, politically speaking——”</p> + +<p>The count’s eye ran prying with an underlook about +the table from face to face, whereat Mr. E. Reader +Meade glanced at Saïd Pasha, Saïd Pasha glanced +at Mr. Meade, and they two got up to bow themselves +out of the business, while the others, with glances at +one another, silently smiled.</p> + +<p>Then Monsieur le Comte de Courcy, fingering a +crucifix of gold that from of old lay smooth from his +fingering under his shirt-frills, said to the others, +“Gentlemen, it is not without a purpose that I present +to you now (rather than more formally at our meeting +this evening in Monseigneur Piscari’s house) our<span class="pagenum" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</span> +actuated by precisely the same motives as ourselves, +nay, if possible, by motives still nobler, concerned +not with France alone, but of world-wide anxiety. +He brings with him something which, as I believe +that it will prove of even extreme interest to you, I +wished to lay before the Abbé Sauriau, our excellent +secretary, previous to our meeting at Monseigneur +Piscari’s this evening, in order——”</p> + +<p>“Gentlemen,” suddenly rising, said Dr. Lepsius in +a low tone, “I think that perhaps if I took a stroll while +you talk the matter over, that might be more in order. +I will be back to answer any question that may occur +to you,” whereat hats were anew raised, the doctor +went away, Monsieur de Courcy’s underlook peered +about to see that nobody was too near, and now he +drew with care from out a pocket-book a bit of paper, +rather brown and brittle, that had passed through +flame. He laid it on the table: and quickly, like a +congress of eagles, the intriguers’ heads were together +over it, the old duke skipping like a youth closer round +to it, and that lax skin of the Abbé Sauriau’s brow, +which above was narrow, broad below, twitching +short-sightedly over the browned words, while his +bush burned. Only the Count de Courcy leaned back, +fingering his secret crucifix, musing through his +cigarette fumes upon the clouds, humorously dimpled. +(“He was ever healthy and happy-hearted when in +office-harness,” says Saïd Pasha of him, “with a no +small degree of rush and magnetism when revelling +in the thick of affairs; one of your true <i>gens de bureau</i>; +an intellect essentially narrow, bigot, bourgeois, as +‘devout’ as he was profoundly irreligious; but iron; +and the busier the blither.”)</p> + +<p>And presently when Isabeau Thiéry, demanded +whence the paper came, “This script,” replied the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</span> +Comte de Courcy, “is a portion of a private letter +written from Paris some seven months ago to a certain +English nobleman who is a Directeur Publique—say +a ‘Permanent Under-Secretary’—of Her Britannic +Majesty’s Government. By what succession of good +chances the fragment has got itself into the hands +of our friend, Dr. Lepsius, will no doubt be described +by him to-night at Monseigneur Piscari’s.”</p> + +<p>“But can we be sure who wrote it?” Isabeau +Thiéry said, “when it lacks a signature?” to which +the count stopped his humming to reply, “Would a +signature add to our certainty, monsieur, when the individual +whom you have in your mind is said to write +a hundred hands a day, as it suits his purpose? But +surely the internal evidence furnishes us with a +certainty which is ample.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, ample,” said Monsieur Leflô, glancing up.</p> + +<p>“Well, he is a showman,” sighed the old gossip, +rising with satisfied old eyes from the script, while +his eye-glass dropped.</p> + +<p>“But he is mad,” added the Abbé Sauriau.</p> + +<p>“That is the definition of God,” remarked Isabeau +Thiéry: “a showman who is mad”—a remark +which caused the Comte de Courcy to laugh, though +with one hand he was at the crucifix, while with the +other he was taking up to replace in its nook the +bit of paper, which had on it, still to be read through +the burn, the typewritten words, “World ... redistribution +which I shall choose ... two worlds +... nevertheless, England ... world’s total capital +... Bank of Dresd ... S. America <i>plus</i> Africa the +first, Asia <i>plus</i> Russia the second, the rest of Europe +<i>plus</i> North America the ... Russia, too, to be included +in Manchuria ... the Caspian ... from the +Caspian to the Bosphorus ... France first, then, by<span class="pagenum" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</span> +means of France, the world.... The ocean of blood +which will flow, but that, of course ... Quebec to +be the capital of the world, and the seat of my ... +Moon ... has been too stupid ... shape of the +ape’s brain ... nevertheless, moonlight will ... +like the eggs of the ostrich, which she hatches, not by +sitting on them, but by just gazing at them, so I may.... +If the moon had been of some beautiful hue, +and of a brighter light, and a reliable light, men ... +would naturally have used the day-time for slumber.... +Even birds and brutes, I assume, will soon learn +to prefer the mood of the beautiful night-time of my +... it is for <i>you</i>, therefore ... when the Exhibition +... come to Paris at ... discreet fash ... afterwards +... my friend and....”</p> + +<p>“Well, it is a great and a gallant brain, after all,” +cried Isabeau Thiéry with a flush, when Monsieur le +Comte had put away his pocket-book with the script +in it.</p> + +<p>“A great and a gallant brain,” mused the Minister +of the Interior, who, fingering his imperial, was +smiling at the sky; “though not a Christian, not a +Catholic, not a French brain.”</p> + +<p>“Tush! the brain of a precocious, pert youth,” +observed the Abbé Sauriau, with a burning bush, +“whom it is the duty of us all to remove out of harm’s +way without more delay.”</p> + +<p>“Though that will not be done without difficulty, +mind you!” Monsieur Leflô remarked with a little +grimace, planting his fore finger-tip against his hard +nut: “but in the event of a citation of the individual +before the Sixth Correctional Tribunal, with a view +to obtaining a decree of banishment against him for +instigating civil strife, I should say that this document +would be of use.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</span></p> + +<p>“The Sixth Correctional Tribunal,” mused the +count, smiling; “I thought, however, that that idea +had by this time been abandoned by us all, if only +for the reason that the trial could not possibly be completed +before the Exhibition, during which, as we +assume, the <i>coup d’état</i> that we dread is to take place? +Personally I cannot help thinking that a court-trial +of uncertain termination is no longer pertinent to the +situation, especially as we have been so happy as to +win the sanction of the Church (in the persons of +Monsieur l’Abbé and of Monseigneur) to move urgent +and more certain ways of averting this danger to the +world.”</p> + +<p>The Abbé Sauriau, who had a habit of ever eyeing +his right shoe and red sock, which shook up continually +(the leg being crossed), struck smartly with +his gloves, remarking, “A stronghold close to the +coast, with grim bastions and the gloomiest of +oubliettes! twelve or fifteen years of that is what +the youth wants——” and he struck back his spread +of hair that broadened lankly out down over the ears, +the Count de Courcy repeating with approval in his +musing manner, “Twelve to fifteen years of that, +twelve to fifteen years——” and going suddenly grim-red, +he giggled gleefully to himself.</p> + +<p>“Monsieur l’Abbé is right,” the old Duc de Rey-Drouilhet +said: “fifteen years of a bastille’s oubliette +is known to induce in a youth a definite diffidence as +to using his lips in public, either in speaking or in +kissing,” at which speech Monsieur de Courcy, who +was drinking menthe, grew crimson, gripping his +glass so grimly that it cracked, the green fluid streaming +from the table to the abbé’s sock.</p> + +<p>“If it can be done ...” muttered Monsieur Leflô; +“<i>if</i> it can be done....”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</span></p> + +<p>“Why, Monsieur le Prefect,” said the abbé, “was +it not a Frenchman who said that ‘cannot’ is a <i>bête +de mot</i>?”</p> + +<p>“That is a truth, too, monsieur!” cried Isabeau +Thiéry, “and provided it prove necessary....”</p> + +<p>But now a trooper, as troopers do everywhere pursue +every Ministre de l’Intérieur, came to the table +with a document for the Count de Courcy, who, +making his excuses, raised himself to hasten away; +but some yards off stopped to beckon to the Abbé +Sauriau, who rolled after him with his big stick and +soft hat, and together they two walked toward the +minister’s carriage, the abbé’s top-heavy bulk, all +thickness of shoulder without any throat, shambling +short below the minister’s mass; and the minister said +to him, “Twelve to fifteen years of a bastille by the +coast, you say: and, certainly, such things have often +enough been effected by private effort for public purposes. +But I do not blind myself to the fact that +it would be beyond the Law, and—in fact—I have to +consult you now on a matter of—conduct. I am now +about to go through a singular interview, and I—address +myself, Monsieur l’Abbé, to the ecclesiastic +in you. You understand me, I think. We are all +first of all Catholics and good Christians, are we not? +and afterwards men-of-state. A singular interview—with +a woman, who, on the strength of having been in +the same yacht, the same house, as myself some three +years since, has lately—thrice—addressed herself to +me by letter. A lady’s maid she—<i>was</i>; and as such +knew the individual whom we have been discussing: +for this individual whom we habitually associate only +with the future has also, it appears, a past—aye, and +a shameful past, too—I say a baleful and abominable +past—which merits to be punished, which it is<span class="pagenum" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</span> +righteous to punish. Think of it, Monsieur l’Abbé! +as a mere boy—oh, really, my blood boils to speak of +these turpitudes!—he not only betrayed this poor soul, +but afterwards robbed her of all, all, her paltry +savings; was chased through the thoroughfares of +London for petty theft....”</p> + +<p>“The young Lepsius?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, Monsieur l’Abbé—your hero.”</p> + +<p>“Whose hero?”</p> + +<p>“Is it not being stated on the boulevards by Léon +Bergerac in particular, who is always the best informed +man in Paris, that you are bitten by an infatuation +which is half an idolatry of admiration, and half +a hatred, and wholly a hankering, that hardly permits +you to talk of aught but of one being?”</p> + +<p>“<i>I?</i>” breathed the Abbé Sauriau, standing still to +stare, revealed a moment to himself; then with rage, +“oh, he lies, he lies: Léon Bergerac is known to be +my enemy!”</p> + +<p>“Well, well, no doubt,” muttered the minister +“... but as to this woman, whose name is +Auvache——”</p> + +<p>“Not the Jeanne Auvache who threw vitriol at the +individual in question at Dover on the 11th of November, +threw it wide, and was imprisoned for five +months?” queried Monsieur l’Abbé.</p> + +<p>“It <i>may</i>,” said the minister, “be the same; in +fact—it is a possibility; though the name is not an +uncommon one, Monsieur l’Abbé—Auvache—men, +women enough of that name, you will say. But I +may tell you one thing: this woman has been spied +by a clerk in her lodgings throwing vials of water +at a nail’s head .... It is her hobby, it seems, +having arranged rows of vials on the floor, to eject +water at a run from them upon a nail in the wall; a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</span> +drill of the eye, wrist, fingers, that goes on regularly +in the loneliness of that garret every day; she will +also practise herself in rushing with a knife to stab +a bull’s-eye on the wall—<i>why</i>, no one can say.”</p> + +<p>The Abbé Sauriau pondered it for some moments, +and presently observed, “She must be an imbecile.”</p> + +<p>“That is what I have said to myself, Monsieur +l’Abbé,” replied the minister; “why else should the +woman, in wishing to obtain an <i>entrée</i> into the +<i>valetaille</i> Lepsius, address herself to <i>me</i>? unless by +some chance she is aware that I know one Nundcumar, +a functionary in the Palais-Lepsius.... This +Nundcumar has risen, Monsieur l’Abbé. Eight years +ago he was a lean scarecrow down on his luck about +Paris and London, pretending to be a doctor of +medicine, but possessing even less knowledge of +medicine than the present Prefect of Police possesses +of the police. Then he became a cook, and it was thus +that I again came across him at Egmond, the +Brittany château of the Comtesse de Pichegru-Picard. +Then he remigrated to his native Agra, and was there +met and admired by the individual whom we now +have in our minds—so Nundcumar avers, though this +person, who never ceases to speak, certainly never +yet produced a word which by chance was an accuracy. +At all events, I am still in touch with the man, and +could easily induce him—to-day even—to introduce +that ill-used and lunatic woman into the <i>valetaille</i> +Lepsius, provided I do not definitely find in my interview +with her presently that she has any purpose in +view other than the search for work.”</p> + +<p>Monsieur l’Abbé pondered it a little. Then, “Let +it be so, then,” he suddenly replied, as they now +arrived at the count’s brougham; “but though your +interview will no doubt prove over-brief to permit<span class="pagenum" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</span> +of any deep probing into the woman’s motives and +so on, you will very likely find the time to impress +upon her that the practice, or drill, with the <i>knife</i>, at +least, is quite offensive, while——”</p> + +<p>“You have known how to say what I was only able +to think, Monsieur l’Abbé.... Au revoir, then.” +And the Count de Courcy drove away.</p> + +<p>The abbé then turned to go back to the table of the +gossips; but now a little girl who was gambolling +among the trees, tumbling down before his feet and +beginning to scream, immediately he had her garnered +in his arms, hugging her to his bosom, his lips on her +head, with whimperings of love (“for,” says a Note +of Saïd Pasha, “he had a most fond father’s heart, if +especially for children, hardly less for all the world, +whenever he was not merciless with envy of some other +mind”); and he toyed before the child’s eyes one of +his few coins, saying, “But look, then, all this is +for thee—all, all,” and he pointed at the receding +brougham, leering, breathing, “Look! that is the +brougham of Monsieur the Minister of the Interior—but +look! a man whose ‘blood boils to speak of these +turpitudes’ since he has need to condone his deeds to +his own shabby-genteel conscience”—and he clasped +the little girl’s fingers upon the franc, placed her on +the ground, and now hurried back to the table where +by now Dr. Lepsius was again sitting with the gossips.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI.<br> + + +<span class="sm">THE CHAMBER-WINDOW.</span></h2> +</div> + +<p>At that very time Shan Healy was speeding on a +bicycle (having missed a train) from Paris to Versailles, +with perspiration raining over his face and +swear-words vented when racing through those villages +paved with old pavers, which mercilessly jerked +him. It was not until six o’clock that he got to Versailles +and the Villa des Medicis there, a house of the +Comtesse de Pichegru-Picard, where, having scorched +down to the house-front through a great avenue of +yews, he craved to interview Miss Ruth Vickery.</p> + +<p>He was taken to the door of a chamber in the middle +of which stood three ladies talking warmly, though in +low tones—two elderly ladies and Miss Ruth Vickery; +and a whirl of words was being uttered among them, +sometimes all the three trying to make their opinions +heard at once, all looking as exhausted and haggard +as if they had been going on all the day long, while +in the gloom of a far corner of the room lay Miss Eve +Vickery asleep, with an appearance of exhaustion, +even of swoon. Shan Healy stood on the threshold, +and he could just hear the Comtesse de Pichegru-Picard, +whom he knew very well, cry with a casting +up of her hands and eyes, “Ah, my dear Lina, you +can persuade an angel or the good God himself to +change their mind, but you cannot persuade a saint +who is English too.”</p> + +<p>This lady, although English herself, spoke English<span class="pagenum" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</span> +in quite a halt way, with effort, was tall and fair, +resembling Miss Eve, her niece, in stand and being.</p> + +<p>“But, Aunt,” wooed Miss Ruth, “bear with me, +since I do mean well, as in my God’s sight. Ask +yourself—how can I, how could I, try to induce Eve +to marry a man who, it appears, is without even +morality, whose mood is pagan, whose aim is +Cæsarian, whose God is arrogance?... And Eve +never would, I think, if I know her! You have +heard her say yourself——”</p> + +<p>“Ah, then, why in the good God’s name did the +girl go and kiss him with all Paris gazing at it?” +exclaimed the Comtesse de Pichegru-Picard.</p> + +<p>“Aunt,” breathed Miss Ruth, all ruby-red, with +drooped lids, “you know that Eve did not—‘kiss’— +him; he—‘kissed’—her.”</p> + +<p>“Ah, my good Ruth,” observed the third lady, one +Madame Lina Grammont, “the world does not draw +these exquisite distinctions, believe me: it knows that +in a kiss it is generally the gentleman who both begins +against the lady’s will and ends against her will.”</p> + +<p>“Exactly,” remarked the Comtesse de Pichegru-Picard; +“but then, we all know our English: it is +always their little mannerism to regard the lady as +made of anything but of flesh and blood. The fact, +however, that stares one in the face is that Eve is now +bound to be married immediately; and I repeat that +the scandal will be less if of the two gentlemen she +chooses the one who has kissed her.”</p> + +<p>“Truly, the scandal will be less,” Miss Ruth answered; +“and you do not say, if you think it, that +the worldly grandeurs will be greater; but, happily +for her peace, Aunt, Eve would rather choose, I think, +to live in a hovel with a Christian gentleman like the +Comte de Courcy than with one whose bosom was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</span> +never vaccinated with the stigmata of compassion and +abnegation, though he were five times a Mogul.”</p> + +<p>“So I hear you say, my dear,” replied the countess, +“though Eve herself no doubt most accurately knows +her own secret; but if it be a fact that her stomach is +such as to like the Comte de Courcy better, why will +she not send for him, since he is every hour expecting +her reply?”</p> + +<p>“She will send, I think,” replied Miss Ruth. +“What, however, was the use of summoning papa +from London unless she is to hold out for his presence +before pronouncing her decision? He should +by now have arrived in Paris, and within an hour will +be in Versailles; then, I think, she will speak, she +will send, for she feels, I am sure, the nobleness of +Monsieur de Courcy’s renewed offer, and will not, I +think, grieve him by any longer——”</p> + +<p>But at that moment Healy at the door sneezed, and, +the ladies noticing him, two of them, still speaking +eagerly together, went away through another door, +Miss Ruth going to meet Healy. She was just +beginning to say, “I am so glad——” when Healy +put his lips to her ear with “Not in here, miss! every +word breathed in here all day has been heard in the +palace at Paris”—whereon he showed her the telephone +over the sofa on which Miss Eve lay asleep, +whispering deeply afresh, “He’s this minute lying on +his face, hearing her very breathing, I believe”; and +when Miss Ruth, as they now moved out of the room +into a vestibule, asked how that was possible, Healy +replied that it was by means of a whispering-gallery, +as at St. Paul’s in London, where anyone stationed +at the part of a circular wall farthest from a telephone +in the wall heard greatly augmented any sounds +thrown out of the telephone-mouth, being in a focus<span class="pagenum" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</span> +of the sound-waves. “The telephone-number of that +gallery has been plugged on to yours the whole day, +miss,” Healy said, “someone here is in his pay, +and he has been lying on the ground in the gallery +with a crowd of tools strewn round about, modelling +something and listening, smiling with himself the +while. I know that he knows at what moment your +papa was summoned to you, and at what moment +Mr. de Courcy’s proposal reached here; so, as soon +as I could slip away when he went out, I made paces +to answer your letter in person, so as to impress upon +you that he is really in earnest in this, miss: for he +has lost time and given up other things to see to this, +seeing that he had arranged to go to the Chamber to-night, +but isn’t going any more; so he is serious, +miss, oh, he means business, believe me, miss, in this, +and it will be a bitter pity if Miss Eve isn’t whipped +off secretly this hour right out of his way somehow, +though, as his spies are all about——”</p> + +<p>“You do not believe, Healy, I see, that such a +union could be good?” said Miss Ruth, her gaze on +his face.</p> + +<p>“Well, to be frank, no, miss, marriage wouldn’t +hardly suit him,” said the voluble Healy. “No, no; +he’d be that miserable, you wouldn’t believe; and the +fonder he was of the lady, the more he’d hate and hiss +at her for making him waste time. Time’s his wife; the +clock, the clock, miss. Believe me, only to be near +him, people feel in a prickly heat themselves, as if +they were breathing fever from some fierce atmosphere—the +very Orientals in the palace, miss, only that +slothful old story-teller, Nundcumar.... No, no, +miss, do now, he’ll be that miserable——”</p> + +<p>“And his lady, too, I think, Healy?” suggested +Miss Ruth, with her smile.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</span></p> + +<p>“Well, and the lady, too, now you mention it, +miss,” Healy agreed; “true enough—the lady too; +she’d be like a dog tied behind a railway train, +couldn’t keep up the pace anyhow; try now, miss, try, +try; he’ll be that wretched, you wouldn’t believe, and +everything’ll be changed, and instead of me it’ll be +the lady may be, and I nowhere with him; try, try. +From that night in the forest round the ruined town +of Anuradhapura, he has been good friends with me—till +two days ago when the doctor came to France. +I have told you about that night before, miss. Oh, +that’s a forest, if you like, boundless, miss, I can tell +you, and the men and brutes of that country move +about in a brown, brown day, miss—big black brutes +looming upon you out of the gloom with their stupid +gazing, and thousands upon thousands of gods and +ogres of stone broken to bits in those groves a +thousand centuries ago, they say. He left me one +nightfall at the top of one of the big dagabas to go all +by himself into the dark of the timber, I to watch each +nightfall there till he should come back with the piece +of a stele; and there on the dagaba I watched and +waited fifteen weeks, miss, night by night, till I began +to fancy that he was gone for good. Eh, but he did +come back to me all right, miss, one darksome night, +under the large stars which look upon those parts, +almost starved and stark naked he was, bearing forty +old stone boxes on top of a buffalo-cart; and in his +hand was that little gold thing made in the shape of +a pear which he never lets go of, and even in his sleep +keeps with him.... Do you know what’s in that +little thing, miss? A little key, they say; and that +old story-teller, Nundcumar, who fancies he knows +everything, says that this little key opens a certain +casket in which there’s a second key; and that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</span> +second key opens a certain safe in which +there’s a third key; and that third key opens +a certain turret at Serapis, the Brittany palace, +in which there’s a fourth key; and that fourth key +opens a certain chamber in which there’s a fifth key; +and that fifth key—I can’t quite call to mind what the +fifth key opens; any way, it goes on till you get to +the twelfth key, which opens the room in which all +his jewels and riches are strewn—so says that Nundcumar, +miss, and whereabouts under the ground that +room may be no human being has yet got scent of, +though that Nundcumar swears that <i>he</i> knows where; +and the key to the whole is within that little gold thing +made in the shape of a pear which he never lets go of, +miss.”</p> + +<p>At this Miss Vickery, with her stare of child-wonder, +stared at Healy, muttering, “How very +much lighter and kinder would he feel, now, if he +had no keys, nor any jewels to lay up for himself!”</p> + +<p>“Doubtless, miss,” said the other; “but that’s how +it stands—what would you have? What was I saying? +Oh, about that night in the forest round about +the ruined town of Anuradhapura; yes, that’s a +forest, miss, if you like—boundless; but I think I’ve +told you about that night before, miss, often; and +from that night he has been good friends with me, till +two days ago, when the doctor came——”</p> + +<p>“Does he still avoid a meeting with his father?” +asked Miss Vickery in a voice of secrecy.</p> + +<p>“Rather, miss; his treatment of that old man is so +shocking——” Healy commenced to answer, but was +checked by a “<i>sh-h-h</i>” breathed by Miss Ruth, who +through the doorway had noticed Miss Eve moving +in her sleep; and they two stood peeping at the unfolding +of Miss Eve’s eyes, saw Miss Eve notice a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</span> +Bible which lay open by her nose on the sofa-cushion—a +Bible which had been placed there by Miss Ruth +with one phrase in it underlined in blue—saw her take +the Book to gloat closely over the phrase in the gloaming’s +dusk, saw her laugh, and, after laughing, suddenly +press her lips upon the phrase with ravishment, +to drop suddenly afresh on the cushion with a covering +up of the face; the phrase which she had read and +kissed being this, “Be ye not unequally yoked with +unbelievers.”</p> + +<p>“Steal softly in,” breathed Miss Ruth to Healy; +and softly she herself, having moved into the room, +stole on tip-toe quite to the telephone, the opening of +which she shut off and stuffed up, Miss Eve meanwhile +seeming still asleep; and to Healy Miss Ruth +now said aloud, “Continue now, Healy, to speak of +your master’s treatment of his poor father.”</p> + +<p>Healy looked at her, and, discerning her meaning, +whispered to himself, “Why, if she isn’t as wise as +a serpent!”</p> + +<p>“No, miss,” he added aloud, “he won’t see the +doctor not on no account: never once seen him +willingly since the day he left the island in your +yacht; flies him like death, he does. Fact is, he is +nervous of the doctor; nothing on earth below, nor in +heaven above, is he nervous of, but of the doctor he +is. Can’t get over his youth, you see, can’t get over +all those years in which he used to believe the doctor +a god, not a human being—shuns him as death, he +does. And partly it’s the doctor’s own fault, I must +say, for that’s only the truth, you know, miss, seeing +that the doctor is going all dead against him, taking +part with his political enemies, and he well aware of +it, for there’s an eye spying for him behind every +blind, so to say; and he’s afraid of the doctor, oh,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</span> +he’s afraid, miss, that the doctor’s big brains may be +digging his grave for him. So that’s his excuse, +look; but still, when all’s said, his conduct to the +doctor has been just shocking—shocking it has. +Again and again has the old soul’s nose pressed +against his gates, and begged and prayed to be let in, +but no go; and that time at Lyons when the old man +tried to spring into the carriage, just as Master Hanni +stepped down out of the town-hall, that was a bit +beyond: for as the father made to spring in, the son +darted to the reins, the horses pranced and started off, +leaving a father prostrate and bleeding on the street—oh +no, that was a bit beyond, that was.”</p> + +<p>Miss Vickery, with her face averted from the +narrator, held her eyes bent skyward with a steadfast +gaze, begging for God’s forgiveness of men; but +from Miss Eve, who must have heard, who was meant +to hear, neither word was uttered, nor a stir seen.</p> + +<p>After a silence the talkative Healy proceeded to remark, +“Well, I can understand him, miss. I recollect +that when I was a little lad ten years of age, one +day a great big girl of thirteen meets me in a lane, +miss, and begins to kiss and hug me—couldn’t make +out anyhow what it was about, so I got pretty scared, +I did, and from that day for years, if I but spied that +lass a league off, my hair’d go creepy, I’d take to my +heels like a long-dog, and I do believe if I caught +sight of her even now, I’d be bound to do a dart for it. +It’s the same with Master Hanni—shy, shy; the +doctor’s a great big bogey to him—thinks the doctor’ll +be digging his grave, though he knows that the doctor +can’t. And who suffers for it, miss? <i>I</i> do. Thinks +I am secretly on the doctor’s side against him, can’t +believe I’m on his side against all comers, thinks +I’m always going to ‘betray’ him to the doctor,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</span> +trusts no one, trusts no one, it’s hard, because——”</p> + +<p>Now, however, that stream of Healy’s speech was +checked by the appearance in the doorway of a +gentleman neatly dressed in grey, with a grey top-hat +on his head, a neat umbrella, and side-whiskers, +with him being the Comtesse de Pichegru-Picard +and Madame Grammont; and Healy, seeing him, +murmured, “Your pa, miss,” and now bowed himself +out; while Mr. Vickery, darting his eyes all about +the room, and discerning in the gloom his younger +girl on the couch, rushed by Miss Ruth without any +greeting, his eyes brimming with tears, his mouth +trembling, and on his knees garnering Miss Eve in +his arms, gave way now to weeping, again and again +darting down his lips at her mouth, with pausings to +gaze at her face, then again darting down at her +mouth, with mania.</p> + +<p>Miss Eve sat up, breathing “papa,” and laughed a +little, casting back some hairs from her brow with a +gesture which, undoubtedly, was not without something +of hectic and hare-brained. Indeed, she appeared +that day to be dwelling in a region so infected +with fever, that through the day she had been treated +as a patient, and on the sick list.</p> + +<p>“Well, here I am,” Mr. Vickery said to her, “just +arrived by God’s help—in time, I hope.... Got a +headache, have you? my soul? my love?”</p> + +<p>Miss Eve smiled triumphantly in her parent’s face, +replying, “No, papa; why should I?”</p> + +<p>“That’s all right, don’t say a word,” muttered the +father, fast patting her arm, “don’t say a word.... +Well, here I am, you see; arrived, arrived, by God’s +help. And—I have telegraphed to Monsieur de +Courcy to come. Have I done well? I thought I +would, and—I did. All the way from London to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</span> +Paris I was praying to be guided, and the moment I +got to Paris the thought was given me to telegraph +at once to Monsieur de Courcy, and—I did.”</p> + +<p>“Did you, papa?” asked Miss Eve, smiling with +her father.</p> + +<p>“Yes. Eve, have I done well?”</p> + +<p>“Why, papa, I think so,” replied Miss Eve, +smiling that defiance which is amused, that triumph +which is secure. “Monsieur de Courcy is a most +estimable man.”</p> + +<p>“He is; but still, Eve, tell me, tell me, dear—have +I done well?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I quite think so, papa.... Have you had +a pleasant trip across?”</p> + +<p>“No, no, let us be frank now; let us make use of +plain terms, let’s not mince matters, Eve; come now, +tell your papa—my own, my sweet—will you have +de Courcy?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, as to that, why, I think so, papa,” replied +Miss Eve with some appearance of surprise about the +eye-brows. “I thought that that was rather understood +as a settled thing: ask Ruth, ask aunt: they’ll +tell you that Monsieur de Courcy, that model of +morals, high at the head of my list, hasn’t a rival to +dread.”</p> + +<p>Upon this the father turned with an opening of the +arms toward the other ladies, saying, “Why, this is +well.... You didn’t tell me!”</p> + +<p>No reply was made to him; only the Comtesse de +Pichegru-Picard exchanged half a smile with +Madame Grammont, who just shrugged, while Miss +Ruth remained with her eyelids drooped.</p> + +<p>“Why, that’s all right, then!” cried Mr. Vickery +to Miss Eve: “I knew, I knew, that my dear’s instincts +would strike true. Well, de Courcy should have<span class="pagenum" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</span> +nearly reached Versailles by this, and—you’ll be sending +him away a happy man, will you? Is that settled?”</p> + +<p>The young lady, contemplating her father’s face +with a calm smile, replied, “Quite settled, papa—for +<i>my</i> share. If it <i>can</i> be, it shall be.”</p> + +<p>“‘<i>Can</i> be?’ What does she mean?”—Mr. +Vickery threw this whisper at the other ladies behind +him; but before anything further could be uttered, a +bomb was hurled into the <i>salon</i> by the words of a +servant who entered, saying “Monsieur Lepsius to +talk with Mr. Vickery”—and he handed a card.</p> + +<p>Straight sprang Mr. Vickery up, Miss Eve also +raising herself by degrees, and all with blanched +cheeks gaped in silence at the menial, till Mr. +Vickery, his visage rushing into crimson, cried in a +high and hysteric kind of cry, “Say to that gentleman +that Mr. Vickery, being engaged, begs him to +state his business by letter!”</p> + +<p>The menial bowed and backed out, and immediately +now there reigned a gale of breaths among the ladies, +Madame Grammont and the countess making a +thousand gesticulations together, Mr. Vickery standing +again pale-faced by a reaction, Miss Ruth at him +instigating him to be grim, Miss Eve moving about +from place to place, reading the titles of books, +glancing at trees outside, glancing at looking-glasses.</p> + +<p>It lasted four minutes, which seemed much more, +after which the menial was once more there, bearing +a note scribbled in pencil, whose folds Mr. Vickery +tremblingly opened. Miss Ruth meantime breathing +in his ear, “Pray, papa, do not read it aloud!”—words +which Miss Eve either heard or surmised, for +now immediately she muttered with some huff, “Oh, +I have no wish to hear anything,” and went away.</p> + +<p>The rest then, laying their heads over the note,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</span> +read the words: “Dear sir,—I, a suitor for your +daughter’s hand, having run a race with another +suitor to your door, and having won the race, am +amazed at your want of fairness and also of forethought +in refusing me an audience. Why do you? +Pray question yourself. Can any king with a rope +restrain the rolling of rivers or the drift of fate? I +warn you that you waste your time in this, causing +me also the woe of wasting mine; nor could that be +just to another suitor to permit Miss Eve Vickery in +a freakish humour to promise him marriage, since she +has no such intention, knowing that such a nonsense +is not on the files of life.—<span class="smcap">Lepsius.</span>”</p> + +<p>It was Madame Grammont who, gifted with the +strongest eyesight, read the note aloud in a monotone, +the gloaming in the room having now grown +very heavy; and as she finished, and all raised their +eyes, all started, for there afresh was Miss Eve, who +had been seen to leave the chamber, hovering anew +near to hear.</p> + +<p>“I am not to be browbeaten!” suddenly cried Mr. +Vickery in a high kind of cry.</p> + +<p>“Ah, papa, no agitation, papa!” Miss Ruth called +through a throat whose music broke.</p> + +<p>“I say I am not to be browbeaten, I am not to be +threatened!” screamed Mr. Vickery querulously +afresh in an ecstasy, for the atmosphere was all +electric, and each one present caught from all the rest +a hectic cheek and a lip of quivering.</p> + +<p>“My God, I foresaw all! and my advice was not +followed,” cried the Comtesse de Pichegru-Picard, +with a casting up of the hands.</p> + +<p>“‘The files of life,’ ‘the drift of fate’!” Madame +Grammont muttered in a maze.</p> + +<p>“Get my daughter’s trunks packed!” cried the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</span> +father; “am I an Englishman? Are there no laws?”</p> + +<p>“Calm, papa, calm!” called out Miss Ruth anew: +“ah, how disastrous! papa, I warn you, this agitation +is fatal to the welfare of the soul!”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Ruth, let one alone!” now said the countess +in an irritation without restraint; “it is you who are +the cause of all, at the end of the tale.”</p> + +<p>“Aunt, I?” asked Miss Ruth, with reproach +lodged in the soul of her eyes.</p> + +<p>“But no, Margaret, but no,” protested Madame +Grammont: “it is not the fault of Ruth, it is not the +fault of Ruth.”</p> + +<p>“Let me get my girl out of this infernal country!” +now cried out the high-strung Mr. Vickery; “it is +France that has done this!”</p> + +<p>“Oh, but be reasonable, Matthieu, at the end of +the tale!” the countess mouthed, with intolerance.</p> + +<p>“Quite right, papa,” now cried out Miss Eve in a +spirit of rollicking and recklessness, “let us clearly +prove to everyone that we act in no ‘humour of +freak,’ having a will of our own!”</p> + +<p>“My love!” cried Mr. Vickery.</p> + +<p>“‘The files of life,’” mused Madame Grammont +anew; “‘humour of freakishness’!”</p> + +<p>“Ah, but he is right, believe me!” cried the Comtesse +de Pichegru-Picard; “he has his meaning! he +knows Eve better than she knows herself.”</p> + +<p>“You and others may <i>think</i> so, Aunt,” called Miss +Eve, snapping her thumb and finger daintily up in the +air, with a wheel on her feet.</p> + +<p>“But he may still be there!” said Madame Grammont; +“is he still there at the door, Gabriel?”</p> + +<p>“Monsieur Lepsius has departed, madame,” the +gaudy Gabriel gave answer, who through all this had +stood there with a bowed brow.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</span></p> + +<p>“What happened in the hall?” asked the countess. +“Did Monsieur Lepsius make any attempt to enter?”</p> + +<p>“Monsieur Lepsius desired to enter, madame,” answered +Gabriel, “when I gave him Mr. Vickery’s +reply that it might be better for him to state his business +by letter; but on his attempt to force an entrance, +both Baptiste and myself barred his advance with our +arms outspread, and he then, after staring a moment +into our faces, broke into a laugh, hastily wrote the +note that has been handed you, and drove very +quickly away.”</p> + +<p>“Did Monsieur Lepsius utter any remark at all?” +Madame Grammont began to ask, but before the +words were well uttered, there had entered another +flunky, who came to proclaim the presence of Monsieur +de Courcy at the door; whereupon—a renewed +flutter and flurry of consultation! until the ladies +rushed from the room, leaving Mr. Vickery to receive +the visitor; and immediately in came the +Minister of the Interior with his brisk and breezy air, +but about his brow now a shade of deliberation.</p> + +<p>They two then conversed together until the hour +when the dinner-gong began to sing out, whereupon +the ladies in their bravery came sailing in, smirking +as superbly now as personalities translated beyond +the concerns of earth; and after a little small-talk the +visitor stepped away with them to dinner.</p> + +<p>However, they had not well moved out of the room +when now the telephone-rattle in the alcove started to +prattle, upon which Mr. Vickery with passion in his +heart darted back to it, and Miss Eve also doubled +back to be near, though remaining far from her father +in the centre of the apartment, staring.</p> + +<p>“Who are you?” called Mr. Vickery, the receiver +at his ear.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</span></p> + +<p>The answer was “Lepsius,” and even Miss Eve, +though hovering away off in the middle of the room, +could hear it in thunder, for the speaker now no doubt +lay in his whispering-gallery, where the sound-waves +from his mouth, focusing themselves upon his telephone, +struck monstrous rough, their grumble trumpeting +unease upon Mr. Vickery’s ear-drum with the +gutturalness of some grum god thundering; and, “I +want to speak with Miss Eve Vickery,” grumbled the +thunder.</p> + +<p>“It is Mr. Vickery who hears you!”</p> + +<p>“I know; allow one to speak with Miss Eve, Mr. +Vickery!”</p> + +<p>Now with wide eyes hied Miss Eve on tip-toe nigh, +hissing, “<i>Say I am at dinner, papa!</i>”</p> + +<p>“Miss Eve Vickery is about to sit down to dinner,” +Mr. Vickery cried, with stricter accuracy.</p> + +<p>“She will not eat much!... But as for you, Mr. +Vickery, will you have me for a son-in-law?”</p> + +<p>“The proposal sounds abrupt, Monsieur Lepsius!”</p> + +<p>“Why so? How much waste of time is necessary? +And what is your complaint against me? I quite fail +to gather this.”</p> + +<p>“It cannot be discussed over the telephone!”</p> + +<p>“Why can it not? Is it that you are offended with +me for kissing your daughter?”</p> + +<p>“<i>S-s-s-s-s, sir!</i>... But I am being awaited at +dinner, Monsieur Lepsius!”</p> + +<p>“It was not I who wished to kiss her, it was she +who wished to kiss me!”</p> + +<p>“Eve, go! go!” screamed Mr. Vickery, warding +his daughter away with one arm.</p> + +<p>“Say, papa,” Miss Eve hissed, reaching far forward +to her father’s ear with her cheeks afire, “that +I am affianced to a good and gallant gentleman!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</span></p> + +<p>“My daughter——” Mr. Vickery commenced to +call.</p> + +<p>“Tell Miss Eve, sir,” the thunderer rumbled, +“that I can hear each word that she utters, and that +I know she does not mean one syllable of any one of +them.”</p> + +<p>“I have to wish you good evening, Monsieur Lepsius!” +cried Mr. Vickery with a high-pitched cry.</p> + +<p>“Go, if you choose; but you prove yourself a +feeble and foolish old pantaloon, you know.”</p> + +<p>“And you, sir, a courteous young gentleman!” +upon which Mr. Vickery put up the receiver, and went +with one cheek-bone branded rosy, and one blanched, +Miss Eve smiling, with her eyes alight, by his side.</p> + +<p>The meal was then eaten serenely by all, after +which, in the midst of Parisian chat in the salon, it +was found not impossible to bring about, without intention, +a <i>tête-à-tête</i> between Miss Eve and the +Minister of the Interior; and Monsieur de Courcy, +having come through this with success, remained +still on, the merriest of ministers and men, until close +on eleven o’clock, when, hunted down by a mounted +officer with a cipher, he made his bows, and went away.</p> + +<p>And now anew the family sat in council to discuss +the situation of affairs, though Miss Eve now took no +share in it, seated far aloof, with her cheek on her +palm, looking out into the dark of the park. At midnight +she bid good-night; and, having gone up to her +chamber, having been prepared for her bed, and +having prayed by her bedside, was soon lying in the +semi-gloom of a big bedroom, with her will bent upon +slumber. But sleep she could not, though two hours +went by. One of her jalousie-windows lying open, +through this she could perceive trees, mountains, and +in the sky a moon moving in and out among mounds<span class="pagenum" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</span> +of cloud, now drowning the countryside in shine, and +now shrouding it in shadow; until this growing into a +grievance and a weariness, at last she got up, +swathed all that elongation of her form in a great +drapery, got her violin and bow, and in an arm-chair +by the jalousie played. So that she might not be +heard, she had first shut the shutter and fixed the bar, +though, as her apartments were in a rather remote +part of the château, this was hardly very necessary, +since it was Mendelssohn’s Andante which she chose +to utter in a low tone; and there during many minutes +she remained in a mood of drooping, moving the +air of the room with the mazes of the music, roaming +over and over anew through the same old moon-realms +of melancholy, feeling even sleepy now, her ear +wearied out with sweetness; until on a sudden she had +sprung upon her feet, her cheeks struck white like a +sheet, and her eyes wide with affright.</p> + +<p>“Who is it?” she hoarsely hissed, for outside the +shutter a tap had sounded.</p> + +<p>“I! Open!” some chest panted to her, and she +knew him, yet anew she hissed with all her wild heart +in her windpipe, “<i>Who is it? What is it?</i>”</p> + +<p>“The staple to which I hang is giving to my +weight,” the chest gasped: “forty seconds and I fall +a corpse.”</p> + +<p>In ten Lepsius had leapt within the window....</p> + +<p>And now were boundless breaths! and the rough +sirocco broken free, flights for life, puffs, pantings, +runnings to and fro, momentary manias, aimless +aims! “Help!” hissed her hoarse heart’s breath, +“this wardrobe, help!” whereat he, quite carried +away by her rage of agitation, hardly knowing why, +caught hold of one side of a wardrobe, while she bent +and laboured at the other side, bearing it somewhither.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</span> +But it was a huge mass Henri Quatre, +which, being moved, naturally made some hubbub, +so he threw the whisper across to her, “It makes a +racket!” whereto her pant replied “Never mind, +help!” and finally by tugs and effort they got one +narrow side of it against a wall, one broad side against +the bed-foot; and now anew she flew, with “This +couch, help!” and he helped her to place the couch +against the wall and against the bed-head; and now it +was “Now, this chair!” and he helped her to heap +an easy-chair upon the couch, feet up: which done, +she scrambled quick across the bed’s breadth, and +now stood in the place betwixt bed and wall, barricaded +now from him in front by the bed, to the left +by the wardrobe, to the right by the couch and the +chair. And then immediately all that to-do was seen +to be needless when her hand happened to hit upon a +key in the wall behind her, for there was a door there +in the wall, and a small window also by it above, and +behind the door some steps leading up to another +chamber a little above the bed-chamber; so immediately +she scuttled through the door, locked it within, +skipped up the four steps, appeared at the window, +threw the key from her down upon the bed before +him, and now succumbed to the floor, panting, safe +at any rate from herself.</p> + +<p>He, looking up to the window, threw out to her the +whisper, “You are wise! You are witty!” upon +which she sprang up to throw out to him the whisper, +“Do not come across the bed!” for he stood now +with one knee on it, and she could see him in a ray +of the moon as she had first beheld him at The Towers +in a red shirt loose about the neck and belt, without +any jacket or hat; and he, too, could see her in shadow +at the window.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</span></p> + +<p>“Did I not help you to escape?” he asked her; +and then disjointedly, “Do you wear the half-coin +which I sent you?”</p> + +<p>Miss Eve gave no reply, getting by degrees her +breath again in silence.</p> + +<p>“Did you know in your heart,” he asked her, +“that I would come to-night? You were waiting up +for me, playing the fiddle; it was that Andante of +Mendelssohn; you played it four times over.”</p> + +<p>“Lepsius, you must go,” Miss Eve said.</p> + +<p>“I will go near the peep of day, and you with me!”</p> + +<p>“No, now; and without me, I think.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, you are cold,” he replied, “and I hate your +stone’s heart: cold by nature, and colder by hypocrisy +that penetrates your texture to the core of you. +Oh, I know and foreknow you to my agony, negative, +null, enigmatic, like a watch which won’t go, +though one goads it, and finally one crushes it under +a rock; as frigid as that water of a mortal quality +which drips from a rock in the territory of Nonacris; +or like that bag——”</p> + +<p>But she stopped him with, “Lepsius, you should +go!” whereat he leaned keenly across to whisper her, +“Cold! I am told that your mother was a patrician +of a most ancient race, so from her you have that faintness +of air, your rarity of blood, which makes you +resemble lilies too super-cultivated and rare to transparency, +or resemble that aroma that you exhale, or +hoary old ages of Asia gone that give no answer to +the historian’s gaze. No, the mortal heart can’t hold +you all, you are far too large for me.... That superciliousness, +all but Chinese somehow, in the heave of +your eyebrow’s arch, that rather-too-much of the eyewhites +shown below the irises ... though I admire, +mind, the faintness of it, the faint disdain, the dieaway<span class="pagenum" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</span> +disdain, so confirmed and hoary, reposed and +at home in the universe, with which you look out +askance upon the world; and now dark circles will be +under them, for I vow you shan’t sleep, and that will +please me to be conscious that you are marked with +dark underlids because of me.”</p> + +<p>“I did not think,” Miss Eve rejoined, leaning both +her elbows on the window’s sill, “that you were such +a silly boy.”</p> + +<p>He during some seconds did not answer this, drew +back a bit from the bed with a bent head, reflecting, +and then said, “Well, it is silly, it is self-sacrifice; +and yet—curious! while I fought against you, since +it is silly, I thought it sillier than after I gave in to you. +Silly, indeed, I still see it, for these feelings of love +make the blood to flow from the front of the brain to +other caves of the frame—ruinously! so that loving is +a reverting to lower-animal natures whose brains are +less largely furnished with blood, the sense of romance +and poetry in loving being due to some umbra of remembrance +in us of old brutes, moons, and moods, of +the geologic ooze, the deluge, the roll in the Jurassic +morass, the rufous Vesuvius, the gloomy lagoon, +when the moon glowed more big and close to this +globe. Love is thus a fall and relapse; and yet—curiously——”</p> + +<p>When he paused, she asked, “Well?” upon which +he said, “My consciousness has been enlarged by it. +I see, in fact, that though it is a fall toward the past, +and silly, it is the one silliness that one may partly +pardon oneself in view of its use to the future, because +man will not always be man, and ages forward I see +the sons’ sons of you and me a multitude, shining +like stars in the sky, vaunting John to George in +voices of joy. No other children instead of ours, if<span class="pagenum" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</span> +ours are preordained to be born, will do for this evolution: +for, since we observe that the perfection which +is purposed by the earth can never be accomplished +but by a preordained marshalling of atoms, we know +that, if this or that atom fails of its place, nothing +can be done: far less if this or that baby fated to be +born fails anon to be born.”</p> + +<p>Miss Eve, her face half concealed with her palm, +asked, “But <i>what</i> is fated? that is the question. We +imagine that what we wish is fated.”</p> + +<p>“Love is apparently an instinct of fate,” Lepsius +replied: “the lover prophesies in a kind of trance of +triumphs to come. True, he is silly, since he sacrifices +his time and life, but when he succumbs in his +fight with the world-typhoon which whirls him to the +moon, he can excuse his infirmity with a sense that +this time it is worth while. I find that I have a +tendency to reflect upon you in reveries extravagant to +grotesqueness, comparing you with galaxies, fragrances, +graces, fairies, lilies, with Dewildé, and +Helen of Troy, and the boy Crobylus of Corinth, and +that purple of Hermione whose wool was combed with +poison-honey and oil of lotus; and though this is not +strictly a truth at present of you, it is strictly a true +instinct and prophecy of princes to spring through +you. The line of your profile has a hint of hollowness +to the eye, owing only to a most slight jutting of +your chin’s point, a nothing which has overjoyed me +with emotions the most poignant, with a sense of +brotherhood for you, with a sense of the earth from +her furnace-birth to her furthest sunsets, when the +sun shall shine much nigher her, and the moon loom +hugely: and I have compared you with ages, and +with the Lady in the Chair of Cassiopeia. Or, looking +sideways at you with your legs crossed, I have<span class="pagenum" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</span> +been struck by the great prolongation of your thigh-bones—so +great that you could hardly run on your +toes and palms, as I and apes may, since your kneecaps +would doubtless graze the ground—so evolved, +patrician: and I have cried extravagantly that, at +their greatest stretch, the very galaxy would find space +and to spare ’twixt their gaping gateway—an extravagance +merely in appearance, since it is in a trance-dream +of graces great even to <i>infinity</i> in types fated +to grow from you that I thus exclaim; it is my subconsciousness, +nay, my consciousness somewhat, all +bewildered with a blaze of the world-wonder, and +how, darling, but in boundless words may the mortal +heart blurt out a little that burden of the Eternal? +Or when I think of my love’s upper-shape, so <i>élancé</i>, +like the racer’s stretch of waist and neck, like one +escaping, dodging, eluding upward—dodging, eluding +the ape-shape—the very revelation of evolution——”</p> + +<p>Here Miss Eve smiled, remarking dryly, “Lepsius, +you are full of apes.”</p> + +<p>“Aren’t you? Isn’t the world?” he asked; upon +which she said, “Yes, I know your low view of men—and +of women, I suppose, still more; but beside my +<i>élancé</i> upper-shape, my thigh-bone, my chin, my +faded old air and hoary disdain of iris, I have a mind, +which is jealous of your omission to mention it.”</p> + +<p>“I meant to mention it!”</p> + +<p>“Oh?” says she, “that was too sweet of you. +Last but not least?”</p> + +<p>“By no means least!” he answered earnestly: “a +mind, I am certain, better than mine.”</p> + +<p>“Ah, now you are insincere,” she said.</p> + +<p>“I to you? As if I could be!” Lepsius replied +with reproach; “I only, of course, mean a mind<span class="pagenum" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</span> +better than mine in possibility, since yours is uneducated, +and mine more or less educated.”</p> + +<p>“Mine un——! But what, then, is ‘education’ +in your view?” she wished to know.</p> + +<p>“Education,” he told her, “is a waking of one’s +subconsciousness to consciousness. I, for instance, +know nothing that you do not—or not much; but I +am much more conscious of what we both know. Tell +me, now—whereabouts were you twenty-four hours +since?”</p> + +<p>“Where?” repeated Miss Eve: “I was—here,” +whereto he replied, “You see, that answer and its +tone shows that your education was never initiated. +You know, no doubt—are subconscious—that you +were a thousand thousand, and half a thousand +thousand, miles from here, flying at the speed of +fifteen times a rifle-bullet’s rabies: subconscious, but +not conscious of it. I, now, could never say ‘<i>here</i>’ +in that fashion, without compunction, as though a +million miles or two were of no account, Eve, since now +and at each instant I can hardly but be conscious of +this horse that jaunts us, and his ardour.... Oh, +this race of man suppurates in dullness, you know, +and I am sometimes most—lonely: I mention this to +you that you may compassionate and come to me. I +ride a star, inhabiting the unbounded as my house, +and the rest, more drowsing than the dormouse, +Tortoni’s; their glance of a morning darts no surprise +of gladness at this romance of time, space and game +of balls, the Grand Boulevard their galaxy, pigmies +grey, phlegmatic, unflushed, unconscious of their contemporaries +in a myriad realms of the creation, among +whom are at this moment taking place great crises, +hegiras, revolutions, doomsdays, moonfalls, vast +marches, everlasting partings; they little know that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</span> +Venus is uneven and severe in scenery, nor does the +thundering of even the nearest sun stun their ear-drum; +uneducated; not polite citizens of time and +space.”</p> + +<p>“But you remember——” Miss Eve started to say, +but now, startled by some sound, breathed eagerly to +him, “<i>did you hear something</i>?”</p> + +<p>“It is a mouse going down the right sound-hole of +your violin,” he replied; and now Miss Eve anew +leaned her elbow on her window-sill to continue saying, +“But you remember that all this you started to +utter of <i>me</i>, then continued with ‘they,’ ‘they’; +since then, as ‘they’ are so <i>I</i>, why are you there by +my bed?”</p> + +<p>“But are you not in all things far above me?” he +asked, “save in this of a wakeful consciousness?”</p> + +<p>“But this of a wakeful consciousness,” said she, +“is everything, is it not? It is this which makes +the difference between a genius and an ape, a god and +a dog, you believe, do you not? And you have it, +and not I. Only a thigh-bone I own, let me be thrown +to a dog.”</p> + +<p>Upon this Lepsius bent well across the bed to throw +to her the whisper, “Hypocrite! Colder than the +coldest Kydnus! It is your mind that I esteem, and +in speaking of your thigh, implied it.... You +should shun the mood of the modern woman of the +West, ever touchy as to her footing, as to the spirit +of the marriage-law, and men’s estimate of her +mentality. Men <i>must</i> admire the mind of woman, for +since we know that we all get our wit from our mother, +as our grit from our father, therefore I, having my +mind from a female, must needs love the female mind +with home-longing, as you, having your grit from a +male, must love the male grit with home-longing;<span class="pagenum" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</span> +so it is not for my wit that you love me, but because +you are instinctive that I am gritty and good; nor is +it for your grit that I love you, but because I am +instinctive that, if educated, you would be witty, and +will make witty babies. Give up, then, I beg you, +for ever, the idea that I despise your mind, since I +do so idolise it; and believe, too, that, for each one +of these reasons which I can discover for my love of +you, myriads of other reasons exist, ineffable, unknowable +to us, but in some manner known to that +Man to whose behests men may at no moment but +submit.”</p> + +<p>“What Man is that?” Miss Eve asked, frowning, +her wits rather winded now and flustered at the speed +of her speaker’s thoughts.</p> + +<p>“I mean, do I not,” said he, “the genius of our +species? In every crowd of a thousand there are +present, are there not? not a thousand, but a thousand +and One, which One we can speak of as the ‘genius +of the crowd,’ since it leads each of the thousand by +the nose, making him behave in a totally different way +than when alone—especially in such crowds as French +crowds, which rush into action like one individual, +as in ’92. So in <i>séances</i> where those gathered believe +that a ghost tilts their table, there is indeed a +species of ghost-Man there, an eighth in a meeting of +seven, a ‘genius of the crowd,’ compounded, no +doubt, of the brain-rays radiated out from the seven. +So, too, of the crowd who make up our human race: +a Genius-of-the-species, his escutcheon and escheats +mentioned on no census-sheet, leads us at each +moment, teaching me to know and adore you, and +none below the sun but you: to know you well: the +very mood of the tune which, if you could be turned +into a rhapsody of music, you would produce, a tune<span class="pagenum" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</span> +with some alto undertone, more old-eternal than the +world. Beloved. But I fail to utter half, beloved, +my heart faints....”</p> + +<p>“Do you love me?” Miss Eve asked him in a +whisper, leaning now far out of her window to him, +who leaned near to her.</p> + +<p>“Beloved,” Lepsius groaned, and again, “beloved.... +When I came home from the Quai d’Orsay last +night, I dropped down in a drowse, and, with the +feast of your kiss still warm in my mouth, I thought +in my dream that your feet walked with mine athwart +fields of asphodel in future far, far off under a forlorn +and morphia moon—I could not tell you. Then in +the dark of the morning I awaked, and you were not +there in my arms. I passed my palm thrice across +my bed of straws, but you were nowhere there; so +I had the thought that my darling might be in the +garden, among the lilies by the lake, gazing up at +my casement, a thought half-crazy, half-drowsy; but +up I bounded and raced all round the palace-walls, +gazing down into the gardens in order to spy you +out and call you up, and you were nowhere there. +If one of the spokes of the kite-contrivance on which +I fly had not been broken, I should have flown to you. +But I ran down, got out, and began to run to you; +and the <i>sergents de ville</i> must have asked themselves +where Lepsius was rushing to under the morning +stars, with half a thought, perhaps, in their heart’s +heart of a <i>coup d’état</i>.”</p> + +<p>“You didn’t come,” Miss Eve observed.</p> + +<p>“No,” he answered, “I turned back; four leagues +to Versailles, and I had already lost a good deal of +time on your account.... Eve, I have lost hours.”</p> + +<p>This he avowed with a bowed brow, and “Dear +me,” breathed Miss Eve with irony; then, suddenly,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</span> +like one whose will arises and triumphs, added, “It +would have been so fruitless, too.... Lepsius, you +should, perhaps, be given to know—can you see? +this one is the ring: I am engaged.”</p> + +<p>“Bomb of <i>poudre Rachel</i>,” Lepsius mumbled with +a chuckle; “so you came to an arrangement with de +Courcy this evening?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, then,” Miss Eve said, <i>her</i> left shoulder, too, +shaken a second by a chuckle.</p> + +<p>“And the same night you admit another lover to +your bed-chamber!” he said, chuckling.</p> + +<p>“Oh, well,” she muttered with lowered lids, +chuckling within one shoulder, and they chuckled one +with the other.</p> + +<p>“Are ladies, then, restrained by no scruples as to +justice?” Lepsius asked. “Delighter in lies! enigma! +through what abstruse movement of your bosom did +you get yourself into this embroglio? Not that it +matters; but you will inflict a sense of injury upon +this man, who has done you no injury,” a speech at +which in one instant Miss Eve flew into a passion, +and, leaning forth, thrice struck the window-sill imperiously, +crying through a gruff throat, “As God +is my witness——”</p> + +<p>“Sh-h-h,” Lepsius went.</p> + +<p>“Let me speak!” she imperiously hissed: “I mean +to marry him, do you hear it? Heaven be my witness!” +and up she threw her eyes, trembling as she +held them bent on high.</p> + +<p>“Eve, no,” said Lepsius gently: “you do not mean +to do that; you believe that you do, but meantime in +your subconsciousness you firmly confide in me never +to permit such an absurdity, and so can afford to boast +and be wayward.... Dear, would it not certainly +kill us both?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</span></p> + +<p>“If it kills a host I will do it!” Miss Eve heatedly +replied; “never through life have I broken a promise, +nor now shall begin with a vow; given and pledged +is my troth; God be my witness in this.”</p> + +<p>“But <i>why</i> did you give it and pledge it? I can’t +guess!”</p> + +<p>“Because I chose!”</p> + +<p>“Cogent waste of three words!”</p> + +<p>“I shall never have <i>you</i>, anyway!” she said with +a nod and threat of the head.</p> + +<p>“And why?” he asked in a bewilderment.</p> + +<p>“Because you despise my mind!” she sharply +replied.</p> + +<p>“I have already explained why that is quite impossible,” +he made answer.</p> + +<p>“Oh, woman knows her own secret, and people’s +explanations make no impression upon her intuitions. +You despise my mind; and there’s this still deeper +reason against any getting together of you and me, +that I despise yours.”</p> + +<p>“I despise it, too; yet I endure it.”</p> + +<p>“Oh!” she sighed, “that untrue humility of +yours, it irritates me to the soul, till I hate! ... +doubly untrue because insincere, and because, if it +were sincere, it would be true to facts: for whereas +you regard yourself as far greater than all, all as as +far greater than you as you fancy them smaller, since +your greatness is bedraggled rags that prevents you +from being good. Oh, why are you not some ordinary +wight, a young workman, Lepsius, a mason, a sailor, +who has never learned to spell? Then some girl would +so gleefully desert all her father’s—— But now, +ah, <i>il desir vive, e la speranza è morta</i>!... Do you, +by the way, still believe it fine to steal?”</p> + +<p>“Successfully, you mean?” he said quickly;<span class="pagenum" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</span> +“stealing seldom needs much show of wit, but +<i>swindling</i> is very frequently fine. You, I know, do +not appreciate its fineness, but to me it is evident; it +is lying in deed as you frequently do in speech.”</p> + +<p>That this would give the profoundest offence +Lepsius had no grounds to think, lying being to his +philosophy no crime; but with that chastity of the +swan, which, being but brushed in her array of whiteness, +frills and ruffles awhile, then with majesty swims +away, so she ruffled.</p> + +<p>“Not ‘frequently,’ I think,” Miss Eve repeated; +“if I ‘lie,’ it is to myself, unwittingly; and in every +event differ from you in fancying it ‘fine.’ Anyhow, +now you can see how what you have wanted is out +of the question.”</p> + +<p>At this Lepsius, looking at her under his eyes, said, +“Eve, be sincere with me!”</p> + +<p>“I mean to be sincere,” Miss Eve told him; “I +do hope I am; yes, I <i>am</i>. We hate each other, +Lepsius, shockingly, like cat and dog, oh, we <i>do</i>, do +not gainsay it. <i>I</i> lack a culture you have, <i>you</i> lack +a culture I have—in my very marrow. Oh, I know +that you are awfully clever and all that, and you +fancy that because you can deck me with queenship +I shall be dashing myself feverish and shivering upon +your breast, little dreaming that the more thrones you +throw before my feet, the more bitterly I’ll spurn and +keep you groaning in purgatory eternally. They say +that just before the Exhibition you will be shooting +into the sky a kind of sun infused with stored-up moonlight, +which will make private lights at night useless +through Europe, and France the richest of the nations; +and that then, during the business of the Exhibition, +you mean in a <i>coup d’état</i> to seize the throne, so as +to sweep France off to overrun Providence knows<span class="pagenum" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</span> +what. It sounds mighty grand—I don’t know if it is +true; I only know—forgive my outspokenness—that +it is howlingly vulgar, that it is not Christian, and +that I should have far greater joy of a young mason +or sailor-boy who behaves graciously to his father—one +with a belt, may be, and your figure—that is——”</p> + +<p>She stopped, and he said, “I listen,” but as she +added nothing, he then said, “‘Vulgar,’ ‘not +Christian’; your criticism, of course, interests one, +though it is curious.”</p> + +<p>“Tell me,” Miss Eve said, “for whose weal do +you purpose all that slaughter and upheaval—for the +world’s?”</p> + +<p>“For my own,” he said: “the weal of the world +is in the management of the Genius-of-the-world, +Who ceaselessly sees to it. I personally am not concerned +in it.”</p> + +<p>“Then,” replied Miss Eve, “that is what I mean +by ‘vulgar’ and ‘not Christian.’”</p> + +<p>“One idea or two?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“No, one.”</p> + +<p>Lepsius sat slowly aside on the bed, puzzling to +understand her mind; and he said that he should have +called Japan a far less ‘vulgar’ land than England, +to which Miss Eve replied that if Japan was really the +less vulgar, that could only signify that Japan was +the more Christian.</p> + +<p>“Clearly, then,” said Lepsius, “‘Christian’ bears +in your mind some meaning of which I am not yet +aware, since Japan does not pretend to be Christian. +I will see one day in the month following the Exhibition +just what Christianity is; but, as I knew that +religions have all so far been infant fancies, and as +the religion of Europe is so slightly in the minds of +the peoples whom I mean to govern, I have never<span class="pagenum" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</span> +given myself the pains to investigate it. And you do +not say for what reason I ought to cease from my +schemes because they are ‘vulgar’ and ‘not +Christian.’ Vulgar they are, since I am a man, and +man is a temporary and trumpery little race, ingrained, +whatsoever it attempts, with vulgarity. But +put yourself, beloved, in my place: what can I find +to do with my life? I am sequestered in the world; +and it has occurred to me that that would entertain +me to make a world-state. True, I might have turned +my life to the delights of research, with the idea of +laying the foundations of knowledge in the world: it +is, however, such a work! since I should have to +begin quite at the beginning, and I shirked it. You +may have no idea what a mess your little knowledge +or ‘science,’ as you say, is in! Without foundation, +top-heavy, like the education of a child who has been +made to learn the Babylonish Talmud by rote, but can +write not one word of his own tongue. The so-called +‘scientists’ know the stars of the night, and talk in +millions of millions; but as to the elements of knowledge, +as to, say, the nature of gravitation, and what +is the ground-reason why their candle-grease dribbles +downward instead of bounding skyward, or why it is +that the atoms in a twig or anything cling together, +though when one breaks the twig, and then again +puts the broken ends together, the atoms won’t any +longer cling, they possess no more notion than the +chimpanzee. Knowledge without foundation; vague, +then, foggy, gappy: so that one may say, man knows +nothing, and of that little which he knows he is but +subconscious, hardly at all conscious. However, +when these schemes of mine which you have called +‘vulgar’ are accomplished, I mean to turn almost +the whole vigour of the world toward research and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</span> +the gaining of some little ground-knowledge of the +nature of things: for undoubtedly the want of this +knowledge is what is now chiefly unwell with our +species. But I mustn’t say to you, beloved, that +men’s good is my aim, my only aim being to bustle +and bluff a little as the governor of a globe in space.”</p> + +<p>“But if a million men are killed by it?” Miss Eve +remarked.</p> + +<p>“Dear, it will not matter,” Lepsius replied.</p> + +<p>“Will it matter if you are killed?”</p> + +<p>“It will to you, to no one else, since everyone dislikes +me.”</p> + +<p>“But <i>one</i> will clamour and cry out, you think? +One will bleat and beat the breast?”</p> + +<p>“Dear, it will not happen; I am so easily the king +of men.”</p> + +<p>“Better, may be, if it did.... No, it is all +awfully low, Lepsius, I say, even lower than Cæsar, +as low as Napoleon, and proves how many a thousand +miles divide you from me and from men: for far +at fault, I can see, is what you said just now that +Christ’s religion is but ‘slightly in the mind’ of the +crowd! Deeply the world has breathed of its atmosphere, +yes, and the murderer Burke, guillotined in the +week gone, deep in its stream was immersed, everywhere +save at his heel. One sees that, when one hears +<i>you</i> speak. Do you know those words of Julian as +to that Jew workman, ‘thou hast conquered, O +Galilean’?—so scarcely true then, how greatly true +now! You who can see, don’t you notice how pity +prevails like the flood, and how charity roars like an +ocean? Christs on the ’bus, at the ball, martyrs that +saunter in clubs? Firemen, nurses, the Red Cross; +the blind boy pampered and spoiled; the sweater and +swindler inwardly worked with a qualm for the world’s<span class="pagenum" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</span> +weal; the moon on her throne still ruling, seducing +the rudeness which roars in the tides with her mild +smile, still by the touch of a Robe virtue disbursed +through the world; and with that hem of his vesture +encrimsoned, treading the wine-press of history, the +white Christ travels, or, riding his triumph, rides on +the foal of an ass over dominions and thrones. When +you said, Lepsius, that self-sacrifice is silly——”</p> + +<p>But here Lepsius stopped her with the whisper, +“someone is coming!” on which the lips of Miss +Eve, going at once quite sheet-white, breathed, “God! +it must be my sister! Lepsius! go!”</p> + +<p>“Why should I?” Lepsius said.</p> + +<p>“Lepsius!”—she was beside herself—“would you +compromise me? Lepsius? For ever? Would +you?” for she herself could now catch the sound of +something, a door moving open in an outer room.</p> + +<p>“If I go,” Lepsius whispered, “may I come every +night?”</p> + +<p>“Every——” Even in that storm of her eagerness +for his going Miss Eve paused; but she breathed, +“Yes, every night—the key!”</p> + +<p>In an instant the key was handed her, and he out +of the outer window: on which she, too, in some +seconds was down, was across the bed and at the outer +window, all her breath breathing down to him fifteen +feet below, “Every night! But I shan’t ever be +here!”</p> + +<p>She could just catch his ejaculation of “Wretch!” +and as she snatched her fiddle, dashed herself into +the chair at the casement, and arranged her drapery, +soft footfalls came on the carpet, the elder sister +breathing, “Eve! not in bed. Oh, Eve!”</p> + +<p>“Dear,” said Miss Eve with languor, “I couldn’t +get to sleep; I was playing the fiddle....”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</span></p> + +<p>“Well, I knew it.... I had a feeling that you +were not asleep, so I got up and came to you, and +here you are. Poor Evie! Cast your care upon God, +will you, Eve?... But playing at this hour! And—where’s +the bow?”</p> + +<p>“I put the bow over there.... Oh, Ruth, put your +hand on my brow, I have a headache,” upon which, +her head now lying back on the chair-back, she shut +down her eyelids, and Miss Ruth, stooping, held her +hand over the brow of trouble, groaning now and again +a little in her soul, her cheek pressed against Miss +Eve’s cheek, till presently she breathed, “That better +now?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sweet, that’s sweet,” Miss Eve breathed.... +“Sweet, Lepsius was here.”</p> + +<p>“Eve, here?”</p> + +<p>And now, under the compulsion of that touch upon +her brow, Miss Eve breathed out the whole story.</p> + +<p>The sandals of Lepsius, meanwhile, were speeding +away, till they arrived at his phaeton awaiting him +beneath trees at Viroflay by the forest of Meudon, +where, throwing himself in, under the setting moon +he went tearing by way of Sèvres, Boulogne, Passy, +to the palace. There, at the top of a stair, he was +awaited by a man in robes of the Orient with a scraggy +grey beard, hollow cheeks, and a nose mostly nostrils +which gaped, who, with ever a wagging and nodding +of his head, stood gossiping and gassing to Shan +Healy: his name, Nundcumar. And these two, Shan +Healy and Nundcumar, when Lepsius had mounted +the stair, hastened without speech after their master’s +speed.</p> + +<p>It was when they three were in the midst of a +corridor whose two rows of cressets seemed to meet +at its remoter end, that Lepsius suddenly peered ahead,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</span> +stopped, and murmured very low in Urdu to Nundcumar, +“Anyone new in the palace to-day?”</p> + +<p>Perhaps a second lapsed before Nundcumar +answered, “One: a person who can spangle silk-muslin +with gold of Dacca for the women-folk.”</p> + +<p>“Tell! Man or woman?”</p> + +<p>“It was a woman. She——”</p> + +<p>“Name.”</p> + +<p>“I cannot at this moment remember her——”</p> + +<p>“Tell! European?”</p> + +<p>“Yes. She——”</p> + +<p>Lepsius walked on; but after some steps, without +stopping, went slower, and now beckoning Nundcumar +to him, said low, “<i>You</i> walk before.”</p> + +<p>Nundcumar’s eyes opened with some apprehension +as he began to walk on ahead, and immediately +Lepsius brought forth from the bag of his shirt a +species of pigmy weapon which one fired off by +pressure upon a button.</p> + +<p>The walls here had hangings of tinsel at intervals, +between these being daubs on the walls themselves +by Hindoo artists in hues as warmly gaudy to the eye +as water flooded with the sun’s after-glow. And it +was when Nundcumar, having reached the middle of +the corridor, was at the extremity of a hanging, that +on a sudden he cast up his arms, all shivering, with +shrieks which pierced the ear, vitriol eating now that +doughy nose-tip, streaming down his beard. Meantime, +Lepsius had swung forth by the elbow a woman +who had been hidden behind the hanging, and in the +quickest demisemiquavers fired two pairs of bullets, +one into her right wrist, one into the left, one into +her right foot, one into the left. Then during a few +seconds he peered with a curiosity of disgust into +the disfigurement of the squealing Hindoo, and was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</span> +gone, throwing behind him to Shan Healy, who was +kneeling over Jeanne Auvache, the order, “Call in +the police.”</p> + +<p>He then made his way to the place where he slept: +an apartment as broad as the palace in that part, resembling +a barn, but possessing no walls on three of +its faces, only processions of columns of marble which +bore up three architraves. Within this chamber a +hound—a mastiff all but as large as Lepsius himself—was +pacing about; and when Lepsius had well bolted +four doors, had again loaded his weapon, had placed +it on some straw strewn over one angle of the plain +of floor, had let his gaze muse some moments upon +the moon going down within a couch of clouds which +she flushed, and now had thrown himself down upon +the bed of straw, the hound moved to lie down by +his side, and both soon dozed.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII.<br> + + +<span class="sm">THE WEDDING-PLACE.</span></h2> +</div> + +<p>The day of the opening of the Exhibition was coming +near, so was the day of the nuptials of Miss Eve and +Monsieur de Courcy, which had first been fixed for +the 23rd of July, and then, by the nerves and eagerness +of the bride’s groom and friends, fixed for the +5th; and now orders for the <i>gâteau de noce</i> and other +articles had already gone out, and already the lady +and her guardians were at Grönland, a seat of the +Comtesse de Pichegru-Picard near to Orléans, where +it was arranged that the marriage should take place.</p> + +<p>In these circumstances Shan Healy observed truly +to the Hindoo Nundcumar, “There be things brewing +in his brain, as you’ll see before too long—at work +like six whirlwinds! And there’s a little smile about’n +somehow, and a something somewhere in his eye that +spells pestilence to somebody, I haven’t a doubt.”</p> + +<p>Healy was seated in the evening dusk by the +Hindoo’s side, who, still luxuriating in bed with his +nose sore in cotton-wools, lay silent awhile, but then +lifting himself to hug his meagre knees, said with +that wagging of his head, “Let him run, let him go +along; but one day the whirlpools of destiny will +decapitulate his head.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, you go to hell,” Healy muttered; “learn to +speak Christian English first, and then turn prophet.”</p> + +<p>The Hindoo’s loose tongue, in these weeks unusually<span class="pagenum" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</span> +quiet, was anew silent, his silences as well as his speech +filled with that movement of his head which was as +continuous as the neck-movement of Chinese playthings, +and as full of meaning and meditation; and +presently he observed, “And when he is done for, +whirled up and filibustered for all he is worth, I know +who will be the doer of it.”</p> + +<p>“Who’s that, then?” Healy demanded, and the +Hindoo’s bony little face became animated a moment +as he made answer, “The woman who threw the +vitriol in my face!”</p> + +<p>“Oh, she,” said the other, “safe enough in chokey +for four years anyway—‘<i>travaux forcés</i>’ they d’ name +it here; and serves her jolly well right, too.”</p> + +<p>Nundcumar, with his eyes shut and a head that +wagged, said, “If she stops there!”</p> + +<p>“Who’s to get her out?” demanded Healy +aggressively.</p> + +<p>“I—do not know,” remarked the Oriental +innocently, with opening palms.</p> + +<p>“Look here, you’re a nice one to be speaking in this +kind of way,” Healy suddenly said; “appears to me +as if you’d like to see it done!”</p> + +<p>“Me?” said Nundcumar; “na, na, not me, my +sonnies. What! me? Why, what was I when he +ascended me out of the gutter? A dog, a hungry +wretch in rags, just ready for the hangman to garrot +by the throat”—he rushed his forefinger across his +scraggy throat—“and now, what has he made of me? +A king with slaves to ceremony my bathing, and +everybody bowing himself down to make me the how-d’-you-do. +And why this? Because he liked while +at his work to listen with one ear to Nundcumar retailing +wholesale his anecdotes of past doings, times, +histories, befallings, happenings and epochs, and to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</span> +hear Nundcumar speak his ingenious English; he +wanted me for his gas-bag, his gabbling ape! and he +gave me garments of shawl-goat wool, and dancing-girls +of Persia with gold bells on their ankles to play +the kitar before my godhood, all because he couldn’t +do without his Nundcumar’s tongue. Na, na, not me. +And then he made the villain woman vituperate her +vitriol upon the nose and mouth of his good old hound-dog.”</p> + +<p>“Serves you right,” observed Healy: “what +earthly right had you to admit the woman into the +palace without proper inquiries? And who was to +have the vitriol in the chops, you or he, I should like +to know?”</p> + +<p>“He might have chosen <i>you</i> to have it,” the +Oriental quietly replied, throwing an underlook at +Healy, upon which Healy chuckled within himself, +saying, “Ey, but he didn’t choose, you see!”</p> + +<p>“No,” said the Hindoo, “he chose his Nundcumar +instead. But never mind, it’s nothing, this. Only +that’s bad, Healy, my friend, when the evil eye is +thrown upon a man, for there’s not a god sitting on +his throne of gold can escape——”</p> + +<p>“And who’s thrown this evil eye upon him?”</p> + +<p>“That woman—that villain woman.”</p> + +<p>“Safe, thank God, under lock and key.”</p> + +<p>“May be; safe, thank God, under lock and key, +may be: but did I never tell and expostulate you the +history and anecdote of the time and epoch when I +and my brother were in the service of the Maharajah +of——”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I’m ill of your lies,” said the other; “you +never had a brother, nor he nor you never were in +the service of any Maharajah in this world. So help +me God, I never heard tell of a nigger the like of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</span> +you: other men lie with a view to deceiving people, +but you lie like a lying-machine, just because you +needs must, without the least bit expecting that anybody +will be believing you.”</p> + +<p>“Do they believe <i>you</i>?” the Hindoo demanded; +“may be I know one that doesn’t, since he has had +every step of yours spied, vigilised, and super-inspected +ever since his sire has been over.”</p> + +<p>At this Healy, eyeing the floor, heaved a sigh, and +then getting up from his seat, said with the dignity +of grief, “Well, you are right there, no doubt,” and +walked out.</p> + +<p>At that hour Lepsius himself, in an apartment +without walls on a lower floor, was speaking with Mr. +E. Reader Meade, who reposed on a couch at his ease, +handing a moustache that rolled down like a weir, +while Lepsius himself, in a sudeyree and trousers of +nankeen, stood close to a telephone hung on one of +the columns. In the midst a punkah, somehow +worked, fanned the face; a fountain which span +showered whirls of spray round flowers and ferns; +two girls a good way off in corners continually caused +their typewriters to prattle, peering nigh their work +in the dusk; while here and there other species of +machines competed in making their workings heard.</p> + +<p>“Well,” Mr. Reader Meade was saying in English, +“their scheme of getting hold of your person, of +course, seems to me, too, a bit absurd—and you say +you knew of it?”</p> + +<p>“Well?” said Lepsius to someone at the telephone, +throwing immediately to Meade the reply, “Yes, I +knew,” and to the telephone-speaker the words, +“Where, then, is Monsieur le Duc de Rey-Drouilhet +at present?” and to Meade again, “Go on.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll wait,” said Meade.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</span></p> + +<p>“I listen,” said Lepsius.</p> + +<p>“Let us take it, then,” said Meade, “that you will +scarcely fail to elude that plot: for that’s the sick spot +of your Frenchman, he lacks humour, is so pre-occupied +with <i>ideas</i>, that he lacks nice adjustment to +facts, often fails to measure his new man or thing, and +so comes a cropper in practice——”</p> + +<p>“Precisely,” said Lepsius, “you are very shrewd—as +usual. Say then,” he added to his telephone-speaker, +“that I can receive Monsieur le Duc de Rey-Drouilhet +for seven minutes.”</p> + +<p>“The castle to which you are to be inveigled,” said +Meade, “is called Château Egmond, on the Brittany +coast, a league from St. Brieuc, and fourteen from +your own Serapis. It is the property of Madame la +Comtesse de Pichegru-Picard, has been leased from +her by the League, I hear, and de Courcy, it is said, +means to make it his residence immediately after his +marriage, which takes place at Grönland, near +Orléans, on the 5th—or am I giving you all stale +news?”</p> + +<p>“I knew,” Lepsius said, as he now flew through +the room to drop some words at the ear of one of the +girls, who in turn eagerly spurted out; and now, returning, +he said to Meade, seating himself on the +floor with clasped knees, “Only I don’t quite understand +by what means they hope to get me to go to +this Château Egmond.”</p> + +<p>“I am not too sure,” said the other, “but Saïd +Pasha, who is always at the bottom of the <i>dessous de +la politique</i>, asked me at the Palais-Bourbon last +night to tell you that Nuncio <i>ad interim</i> Montijo will +be of the company at the château, and as you are believed +to be eager to gain the Church-party, this may +be intended to motive you to accept their invitation.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</span> +Then also Marshal Rémy will be there, and your right +hand, Schuré.”</p> + +<p>Lepsius was up, speeding off to peer into a little +machine hitched on to the telephone which fretted +and roared in fits, saying as he ran, “But do they +imagine that one cannot negotiate with Rémy, Schuré +and Montijo without going down to Brittany? It is +conspiracy of—let us say of Bismarcks, all born on +the first of April!” at which word “Bismarcks” he +chuckled maliciously within himself.</p> + +<p>“But a conspiracy having this peril,” remarked +Meade, “that Isabeau Thiéry seems to be more or +less in it.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Thiéry is a shadow,” said Lepsius, throwing +himself flat on a table, his hands under his head; “his +characteristic is that he does not exist.”</p> + +<p>“I should rather say,” said Meade, “that his +characteristic is that he is the half-brother of Fanny +Schuré, who is the wife of Schuré, who is the engineer-in-chief +of the moon-machine.”</p> + +<p>“And that matters in your judgment, I see,” said +Lepsius.</p> + +<p>“Much in my judgment,” the other answered very +impressively; “you don’t, I think, know the +Thiérys well; they are one of those French families +who regard each of their members as something +between a god, a genius, and a pet-dog to be +pampered; and Isabeau Thiéry in particular, with his +three volumes of Victor Hugo verse, is to Fanny dear +no less than Hermes Trismegistus. I tell you so, +Lepsius. He is a ghost, you say, and I say ditto; +but his influence with this grande dame of a Fanny +must be great enough: if he is against you, Fanny is +against you. And you won’t undervalue this woman’s +sway? A bit Brantômesque in tone as the girl may<span class="pagenum" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</span> +be, with her ambition to say things worthy of Esther +Guimont, if not of Ninon de l’Enclos, she has quite +earnestly this further ambition, to revive the <i>alcove</i>, +and, by pulling the wires in the political drama, to +be called a Chateauroux or a Genlis. As to Schuré +himself, you know him: <i>au fond</i> he is a viveur living +in the <i>odor di femina</i>; his guts is his God, and his +‘fafemme’<a id="FNanchor_3" href="#Footnote_3" class="fnanchor">[C]</a> is his Devil. If she tempts, he attempts; +she says go, and he goeth. And I say that, if Isabeau +Thiéry goes against you, then, through Fanny, +Schuré would agree to yield to the immense pressure +of your enemies to tamper with the moon-construction; +and if there’s the smallest failure as to the moon—ah! +well, you know the consequence of that.”</p> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a id="Footnote_3" href="#FNanchor_3" class="label">[C]</a> Wifie.</p> +</div> + +<p>“You are always very shrewd,” said Lepsius, lying +on his back with shut eyes, “and but for your judgment +I should surely miscarry in everything that I attempt. +All this that you say is quite true, and I have always +intended to bribe Isabeau Thiéry at the right +moment.”</p> + +<p>“With money? Isabeau Thiéry?”</p> + +<p>“Why the surprise?”</p> + +<p>The Englishman got his limbs together, and sitting +now on his couch-edge, stared, saying, “You cannot +do that, you know.... Bribe any of them, the +brokers, popes, emperors; but you cannot bribe a poet, +man! Don’t you know that for a fact, Lepsius? +Frankly, you occasionally bring your friends’ admiration +of your brain to some sudden cropper...! +You, too, having that French fixity of idea and lack +of humour, knowing the human clock so minutely +in everything, except just its divine trick, its +‘eccentricity,’ as mechanicians say. You couldn’t +bribe Thiéry!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</span></p> + +<p>“Abundantly, I meant,” observed Lepsius.</p> + +<p>“But that’s worse! If you send him five hundred +francs, there’s just the millionth fraction of a chance +that it might influence him, since he is so jolly poor; +but if you send him five millions, don’t you know, +really, what will happen? He’ll throw up the melodramatic +right-hand that crumples the cheque, cry +‘Cato!’ and rush off to Sister Fanny to crush you. +It’s the ‘eccentricity’ in the earth’s yearly journey: +you count ill if you leave it out.”</p> + +<p>At this Lepsius, springing up, looked at the other +in the way of one who is struck by what has been +said, and he had begun to say, “What grounds, now, +have you——” when a negro, coming in between two +of the columns, announced, “Monsieur le Duc de +Rey-Drouilhet,” and now Meade said, “Well, I’ll +be away,” adding, “you can bribe <i>him</i>, Lepsius.”</p> + +<p>“And all of you,” thought Lepsius within himself +with a somewhat sullen eye askance on his friend.</p> + +<p>The friendly Englishman and Lepsius, looking +rather like cow and calf together, now exchanged a +hand-shake, and in soon stepped the aged little duke, +diffusing smells of perfumery, showing a youthful +streak of teeth which shook, to seat himself finically +on the couch which Meade had left, while anew +Lepsius flew hither and thither, for some time paying +no heed to the fop’s presence, who meantime secretly +touched his teeth, lips, cheeks, and sucked a cachou; +till at last Lepsius, casting a look at one of a quartette +of clocks, cheque-book in hand, dashed to sit by his +side, remarking, “Six minutes and a half, Monsieur +le Duc, and my admirable friend: tell.”</p> + +<p>“Why, it was you who sent for me,” the duke said, +tittering in his fluttering and fussy manner, “it is +you, Monsieur Lepsius, whose rôle it is to tell!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</span></p> + +<p>To this Lepsius made no answer, but stamping a +cheque with a number of francs, furiously wrote the +duke’s name on it, and now threw the cheque askew +to the duke’s knees, without looking at him; upon +which the duke sprang up somewhat pallid under his +rouge, muttering in a protesting manner, “No, +Monsieur Lepsius—your manner—I cannot accept—you +forget, monsieur——”</p> + +<p>Lepsius groaned. “We are such old cronies! +And surely time is ever a thing of some value. Can +you <i>not</i> see it? Tell, tell.”</p> + +<p>“I am aware that your time is valuable——”</p> + +<p>“Yes, of course: tell.”</p> + +<p>“But——”</p> + +<p>“No, tell.”</p> + +<p>“But are there to be no preliminaries? No +pourparlers? You have handed me a cheque, +monsieur—I know not for what amount, since +positively I decline to inspect it——”</p> + +<p>“Twenty thousand, that being the first of several, +the others to be written out as you proceed in amounts +proportioned to the worth of your words.”</p> + +<p>“The figures will be big in that event!”</p> + +<p>“They shall be; you know that I am immense in +generosity.”</p> + +<p>“But it is a bribe!—if you consider it. I was +never, however, to be bribed! You forget, monsieur, +that I bear a name which I never have, nor ever shall, +stain by any real meanness; nor, if I have accepted +money of you in the past——”</p> + +<p>“It was not a bribe, it was a gratuity; a meanness, +but not a ‘real’ meanness, because of your secret +ardour for my person and service. I know it all, nor +should ever dream of insulting that name you bear +with a ‘real’ bribe: tell.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</span></p> + +<p>“Well, provided we do thoroughly understand +each other’s tone, monsieur ...” the duke now said, +sitting down anew with a twitching up of his trousers’ +knees, “though in the present instance I absolutely +do not feel that I could touch your cheque with honour, +since, really, if you consider it, monsieur, it is a +betrayal of comrades, this, in which I am engaged—you +cannot get rid of the fact by any sophistry!—it—is—a—betrayal; +nothing less!”</p> + +<p>“Not a betrayal, only an exposure,” said Lepsius +drearily, “nor need you actually touch the cheque,” +and picking it up, he put it into the peer’s pocket.</p> + +<p>“Well, say an ‘exposure,’ since everything, after +all, depends on the tone of an act, and everything is +right that is done by the right-minded.... At any +rate, let me tell you, monsieur, that you stand in a +situation of even the extremist danger!”</p> + +<p>“I know; and Isabeau Thiéry is in it.”</p> + +<p>“Why, yes.”</p> + +<p>“Tell—deeply?”</p> + +<p>“Deeply enough, although not whole-heartedly, I +know. Moreover, he hasn’t a sou, so can at any +moment be opened to you by the golden key.”</p> + +<p>“And Dr. Lepsius?”</p> + +<p>“He also ... I am in the dark, by the way, as to +whether the doctor is a relative of yours, although the +question is being asked——”</p> + +<p>“No relative. But that man is actually in the inside +of the inner plot to kidnap and imprison me? +Yes?”</p> + +<p>“Why, yes. He has attended each of the recent +councils in the house of Monseigneur Piscari, has even +made suggestions as to the means of your capture.”</p> + +<p>The left cheek of Lepsius went ashen a second or +two, and all at once he was up to fly with an eye on<span class="pagenum" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</span> +fire to a speaking-tube some distance off, through +which, when he had whistled, he murmured low, +“33, you?”</p> + +<p>The answer was, “Yes.”</p> + +<p>“Telephone to P.,” said Lepsius, “asking if all is +ready on his side, in which case let him now wire to B13 +to burn within an hour.” At the same time, without +looking round, he cried out to the duke, “You see +the amount is as I stated it, Monsieur le Duc!” for +the duke was taking the chance to scrutinise his cheque +narrowly in the twilight.</p> + +<p>“I will see to it,” was the answer of the speaking-tube +to Lepsius, who then sped back to the duke, saying, +“Two minutes more, monsieur; tell details.”</p> + +<p>The old fop laid one forefinger on the other, and +with much animation of manner gave the details. +Lepsius was to be got to Château Egmond, a league +from St. Brieuc, by means of an accumulation of inducements, +the chief being that Schuré, the engineer, +without speaking with whom it was assumed that +Lepsius could not exist a week, would be present: for +Schuré, though not of the conspiracy—at all events +not formally, so far—had, however, promised to be of +the house-party for two or three days; and it was proposed +that Schuré should fall more or less indisposed +while there through unwholesomeness in his wine for, +at any rate, eight or nine days, until Lepsius should +be impelled to hie to his bedside. Then Lepsius was +to be shut up in the château some days, until he could +be taken to the bastille on the Ile de Bas, named +Château Labîme, which, too, the League had got on +lease; and it was moreover hoped to reduce Lepsius +to penury by seizing a minute key which Lepsius was +believed to carry continually on his body.</p> + +<p>Lepsius threw a new cheque when this had been<span class="pagenum" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</span> +said, saying, “Their names,” on which the duke, +taking a leaf of paper out of his pocket, and speaking +now eagerly with a mean secrecy of voice, galloped +out a string of names, “Thiéry you know, Dr. +Lepsius you know, and, of course, Sauriau, de +Courcy, Leflô, Piscari, General-of-Brigade Rabot, +Grand-Almoner Persigny; then there is Maspéro and +Gustave Ghéon; the big bresseur d’affaires Brückner, +Aly of gas, and Huguette of electricity; Captain +Pertius; Pichot of Justice and Public Worship; +Léonce Pettit; Director of Fine Arts Rémy-Rehaut; +and Maître Sorel—with some provincials.”</p> + +<p>“Their names,” said Lepsius, smiling a little, toying +under his vest with that half a coin whose sister-half +he had sent to Miss Eve Vickery two years previously.</p> + +<p>“The provincials,” said the duke, “are obscure +rich persons, not worth your resentment, monsieur; +there is a Monsieur Louis Jammes of Lyons, a +chocolate-maker, then a Monsieur Flammarion of +Tours, a Monsieur Brisson of Rouen—who, by the +way, is booked to go to the conference at Château +Egmond.”</p> + +<p>“I do not know these people,” remarked Lepsius +with no little alertness of thought in his eyes which +stirred fleetly from side to side like sheet-lightning. +He then asked if the provincials had attended the +Paris conferences, to which the other replied that they +had not, being but “associates” by correspondence +with Sauriau, their secretary.</p> + +<p>Lepsius stamped yet a cheque, saying, “Make it +your work to-morrow, Monsieur le Duc, to discover +whether this Monsieur Brisson of Rouen, who is to +go to the Egmond conference, is known by sight to +any of the Paris conspirators, and you become affluent<span class="pagenum" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</span> +for six months, as already you are for three,” in saying +which he threw the new cheque to the duke, and +dashed away to peer steadily at the picture of a +château colouring itself as by miracle in one of the +electric machines. The duke’s arm had half started +out for a hand-shake of farewell, but drew back without +it; and now, after waiting some time, at last with +a raising of the shoulders in a shrug which lingered +long, he first with a grimace murmured to the four +winds, “Is the interview, then, at an end?” and now, +doing a very exquisite bow to Lepsius’ back, withdrew +with bows.</p> + +<p>As he departed, Lepsius threw half a look at one +of four clocks, their staring faces of a largeness so +exaggerated that they concealed, each of them, four +of the columns’ mass, and afflicted the air with the +click of their tick-tack; and with one tap of impatience +on a chair he went muttering, “Come, Sauriau.”</p> + +<p>Some seconds afterwards the name of the Abbé +Sauriau was called.</p> + +<p>“Admit him!” called Lepsius in reply, at the same +time darting behind a screen, whence in scarce more +than forty seconds he came out “dressed” in clothes +made for quickness, without any buttons about them, +and a second before the abbé came in had caught up, +and was casting his eye over, a page of a book of the +abbé’s just published.</p> + +<p>“Monsieur l’Abbé Sauriau,” he murmured, +shaking hands, “I was at this moment deep in +<i>Hellenic Idylls</i>.... But what are you, then, +Monsieur l’Abbé Sauriau. A re-incarnation of Plato? +For surely, only a Greek could so utterly know the +soul of Greece!”</p> + +<p>Monsieur l’Abbé Sauriau had shy eyelids. “I am +glad.... Ah! you have seen <i>Hellenic Idylls</i>.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</span></p> + +<p>“Seen and devoured ... and what charm! How +airy! What daintiness of manner! Oh, truly, those +gross fingers of the Abbé Sauriau know how to engrave +with a fairy’s grace.”</p> + +<p>“Why, this is well,” said the abbé; “have you, +by chance—finished the book?”</p> + +<p>“Not quite, yet, monsieur: I am now at the myth +of Leda.”</p> + +<p>“It is the end that is the best,” breathed the abbé +with downbent lids.</p> + +<p>“Let us sit here, monsieur, and speak about it,” +and now he led to the couch a spirit so bludgeoned +and kidnapped by the scoop of this typhoon of flattery, +that Lepsius might possibly then and there have made +the abbé his slave for ever. This, may be, was +actually his aim: for the Abbé Sauriau, owing to his +amiable personality, his learning, and his well-deserved +celebrity through the whole world of letters, was an +individual of no slight influence in the under-currents +of the life of the Paris of his time, both within and +without the sound of the Palais-Bourbon bell; and not +only was his brother, Louis Sauriau, a general-of-division, +but the engineer Schuré himself was believed +to be deeply under the influence of the abbé’s fascination. +This being so, Lepsius, in his gross way, continued +with a smile of amusement to eulogise to the +skies the volume of which he had perused only one +page, nor found any praise too gross for the poet to +gulp down, while the poet eyed his right red sock +which continually shook up, and struck the crossed +leg with his glove. Unfortunately, Lepsius never +knew more than forty-nine of the fifty parts of man, +and as for man’s vanity, he was himself so exempt +from any iota of it—his tone being that of a broker, +wholly pre-occupied with the facts of things—that he<span class="pagenum" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</span> +little recognised to what a degree vanity, in its government +of the soul, may famish such grosser passions +as avarice. Hence, not content with praising the +abbé’s book, he went on to mention his intention +of buying an immense number of copies, +and at once was aware of change in the abbé’s +air, for at once the abbé was offended, reflecting +within himself, “It is a bribe; and since he has +a desire to bribe, <i>perhaps</i> what he has said as to the +worth of the ‘Idylls’ is just humbug with a purpose?” +and his bush began to burn.</p> + +<p>Lepsius, who did not much care, leapt up just then +to answer the telephone, and before he came back to +the abbé peered into the machine in which a château +was slowly painting its shape on a pane of paper: +upon which his visitor called to him, “What a fuss +of mechanism you have squalling in this hall!”</p> + +<p>“Come, I’ll let you see them,” said Lepsius in a +humour of devilry, to humiliate the spirit that he had +lately praised; and he led the priest from little machine +to little machine, teaching him something of the meaning +of each—things of steel acting in the manner of +rational and ingenious creatures—into which those +bushy eyes of the Abbé Sauriau peered near-sightedly, +and though he uttered hardly a word, from time to +time a “humph!” would start from him. When, +however, they came to the one where the château was +coming out in colours, Lepsius nonchalantly said, +“This one you could not comprehend, however +much I explained it,” and dropped a handkerchief +on it.</p> + +<p>In this manner, half by carelessness, half in malice, +he made for himself many enemies, by contempt; and +in the abbé’s eyes came a flame.</p> + +<p>“However, to come to details, monsieur,” he said<span class="pagenum" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</span> +as he sat down anew.... “I have bound myself +to sound you in advance on behalf of Monseigneur +Piscari, who met me last night in the Salle des Pas +Perdus, as to whether you would be likely to feel inclined +to make one of a party, mainly political, to +meet in the country in a fortnight’s time.”</p> + +<p>Lepsius span round to the abbé, saying, “I +wonder?... Whereabouts?”</p> + +<p>“The name is Château Egmond——”</p> + +<p>“I didn’t know that the prelate had a palace of +that name.”</p> + +<p>“He has lately taken it on a——”</p> + +<p>“Where is it?”</p> + +<p>“In Brittany, not twenty leagues from your own +Palace Serapis, and a league from——”</p> + +<p>“Ah, too far. Time, Monsieur l’Abbé,” and off +Lepsius dashed anew to the machine of the château-picture, +snatched the handkerchief from it, peered, +and now beheld midget people rushing about it, and +the château at four places wrapt in flames; upon which +he flew back to the abbé, who was observing, “Well, +certainly, it is a long way off, but then everywhere +is near to Dædalus; moreover, everybody will be +there—Schuré, Montijo—many charming dames——”</p> + +<p>“Ah! Who, for instance?”</p> + +<p>“Madame Schuré for one,” replied the abbé with +a flash of the eye.</p> + +<p>“Unfortunately, monsieur,” remarked Lepsius +very rashly, “I can’t be expected to make love to a +<i>rat d’opéra</i> like Fanny Schuré when it is well known +that I am already in love, and with a sovereign lady. +If, now, you had informed me that the Comtesse de +Pichegru-Picard and her charming relatives would +be there, that to a great extent would have abolished +the distance.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</span></p> + +<p>The abbé sat up at this, staring like one who is +struck by a new idea, then muttered with some spite, +“I was wondering if that could be managed, just +to please you. It seems, however, to be out of the +question, since one of those relatives of the countess +is to be married on the 5th to Monsieur de Courcy +at Grönland, in the centre.”</p> + +<p>“And Monsieur de Courcy has not asked me to be +a guest!” crowed Lepsius with gross sarcasm, adding, +“Forgive me—forty seconds,” and anew he flew +to the machine of the château-picture, a “living” +picture, in which could be seen the leaping of flames +that now surrounded all the place, and crowds rushing +all about, and fire-engines spouting out waters in the +night, all such mites as are the images which walk +tiny in the eye of an ox. Lepsius gazed at it through +a magnifying-glass, and when in a group of eight +moving down a terrace in disarray from the house of +flame he could make out the faces and shapes of the +Misses Vickery, back he rushed to the abbé, saying, +“That, then, must be my answer, Monsieur l’Abbé, +to Monseigneur Piscari, with my thanks; nor will +anything earthly alter my decision—unless, perhaps, +it be some temptation in the shape of the eternal +feminine.... You see, Monsieur l’Abbé, I become +dissipated in mind like the rest, and oh, believe me, +it is a relaxing thing to live among men.... What’s +the time?”</p> + +<p>The abbé stood smartly up at the hint, and, as +always after being with Lepsius, hobbled away brisker +than he came, braced in spirit and pricked to be a +man of the same height and stride as that model +that he yet disliked; and with that baggy skin of his +brow twitching with cogitation, gazing at the ground, +he went quick of gait, galvanic-young again, making<span class="pagenum" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</span> +sounds with his great stick, down to a carriage, where +he gave an address in the Rue Jean Gougeon.</p> + +<p>It was the home of the Count de Courcy. The +count, however, was out, but might be found, the +abbé was told, at the Ministère, or else at a house +in the Rue du Faubourg St. Honoré.</p> + +<p>To the Ministère drove the abbé; no de Courcy was +there; so thence he drove to the Faubourg, where the +Comte de Courcy rose from dinner to go to him at the +head of a stair, and there the abbé said, with a scantness +of breath, “I have been chasing you—am fresh +from the individual whom—that is, from the young +Lepsius, and shall be surprised from his mood at +present if anything which we can devise will get him +to step into the Egmond trap.... Would you +believe? he is love-struck with <i>Hellenic Idylls</i>; +it appears, my friend, that the young man dreams of +it at night!”</p> + +<p>“<i>C’est vrai?</i>” said Monsieur de Courcy (i.e., “By +Jove,” touched with irony).</p> + +<p>“Yes, you will find him turning author before long +in order to vie with us others! But, believe me, +monsieur, he is destined to discover that it needs a +deeper brain to create a true and poetical book than +to imagine machines of steel.”</p> + +<p>“As Phœbus beats Hephæstus; but—you see—I +am being awaited——”</p> + +<p>“Yes, forgive me—only to tell you that it will be +most difficult, as I can already see, to get him to +go to Egmond, unless—may I express myself? it is +delicate....”</p> + +<p>“I even pray you to do so.”</p> + +<p>“Unless Madame de Pichegru-Picard and her—nieces +are of the party, in which event he will +agree——”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</span></p> + +<p>The Comte de Courcy’s neck stiffened. “My +friend, the suggestion would be ingenious, if it were +not impossible.”</p> + +<p>“I see that,” breathed the Abbé Sauriau, +“especially its ingeniousness.”</p> + +<p>“To me its impossibility is no less obvious, +monsieur,” said Monsieur de Courcy.</p> + +<p>But now steps were mounting the stair, and a man +bearing a document and a telegram came up to give +them to the count, who, having read the telegram, +grew pale, and every second paler, and presently observed +to the abbé, “My God! Grönland house +burned to the ground!”</p> + +<p>“Burned!” exclaimed the abbé; “why, accept my +sym—— But where, then, monsieur, will your +wedding take place?”</p> + +<p>“It may now <i>have</i> to be at Egmond,” the count +said slowly, with meditation dwelling in his underlook.</p> + +<p>“Why, then, this may be a Providence in view of +the individual whom we have in our mind!” cried out +the Abbé Sauriau.</p> + +<p>“We will see how Heaven works it,” the count +observed, now suddenly holding out his hand to bid +<i>bon soir</i>.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII.<br> + +<span class="sm">AT EGMOND.</span></h2> +</div> + +<p>Within ten days everything was settled: the Comtesse +de Pichegru-Picard, burnt out of Château Grönland, +came to an arrangement with Monseigneur Piscari +(who had already got from her the lease of Egmond +in Brittany on behalf of the League), to go down there +for the wedding of Miss Eve without interfering with +the prelate’s house-party; and Lepsius, for his part, +on hearing now that Miss Eve would be at Egmond, +agreed to go down, too, to meet the other political +intriguers.</p> + +<p>By the last day of June all the party were there, +except a Monsieur Brisson of Rouen, and Lepsius, +who had arranged to come on the 2nd of July for two +days, the date of the wedding remaining fixed for +the 5th of July.</p> + +<p>As for this Monsieur Brisson, who lived not far +from Brittany, why he did not appear was not very +clear, for though he had been written to by +Monseigneur Piscari, he had sent no reply.</p> + +<p>However, about an hour after dinner on the 1st of +July, Monsieur Brisson was announced just as a council +which met to consider last details as to Lepsius +had sat round a table in a chamber in a tower. The +door was already locked when the card of Monsieur<span class="pagenum" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</span> +Brisson was brought, who, on being admitted, was +seen to be the embodiment of the <i>bourgeois</i> in glasses, +one of his legs bowed and booted with a sole inches +deep, on which he steeply limped. As he was unknown +by sight to the others, he had to produce some +of his notes from the League before being given leave +to assume his seat; and the conference then began in +a gloaming still unlighted by any lamp, present being +Monsieur de Courcy, the Abbé Sauriau, Monsieur +Leflô, the Duc de Rey-Drouilhet; the bent back of +Dr. Lepsius sat sideways to the table, dumb; +Monseigneur Piscari, a lank and stark inquisitor, +presided; Isabeau Thiéry was absent; but there were +some ten more, men of wit or weight.</p> + +<p>The difficulty was to get Lepsius into Egmond without +scandal: for if he once came in as a guest, and +was seen, his disappearance would naturally excite +comment and unrest; but after much discussion one +Captain Pertius, a spark of the <i>beau sabreur</i> type, +who had five <i>pioupious</i> (privates) at command in the +château, proposed that as Lepsius came, his capture +should take place outside a summer-house in a south +avenue, and Lepsius there kept till everybody was +abed; and this was carried.</p> + +<p>But now Monsieur Brisson of Rouen, with a rasping +throat of the <i>nouveau riche</i>, at last gave a croak, +saying, “It will be a great risk to keep him idling +there for hours in that summer-house.”</p> + +<p>And now, too, for the first time, Dr. Lepsius +breathed a weary word, “I agree.”</p> + +<p>However, their votes were overborne on the +authority of Pertius, who, having thoroughly +examined the summer-house, had found it strong and +sound.</p> + +<p>Then, till it was almost dark, many details were<span class="pagenum" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</span> +discussed, many proposals put to the vote, everybody +knew what his own duty was to be, and the council +was now about to be broken up when anew the throat +of Monsieur Brisson of Rouen was croaking, “But I +feel uneasy.... <i>Who</i> chose the chamber in which +Lepsius is to be kept?”</p> + +<p>“It was Captain Pertius,” said Monseigneur +Piscari.</p> + +<p>“And you have all inspected it?” asked Monsieur +Brisson.</p> + +<p>“Most of us,” remarked Monsieur de Courcy; “it +is a good, good place, monsieur.”</p> + +<p>“It may be good,” said Monsieur Brisson, “but +is it the best? Oh, believe me, messieurs, in everything +there is a bad, a good, a better, and a best, +the best ever more grievous than the rest, but so +greatly better than the better.”</p> + +<p>“True,” murmured the Abbé Sauriau: “<i>is</i> it the +best?”</p> + +<p>“I propose that we search the château in a body +first,” suggested Monsieur Brisson.</p> + +<p>“I agree,” murmured Dr. Lepsius, and after some +talk this was done. Monsieur le Duc de Rey-Drouilhet +took with alacrity a blue candle from a candelabrum +of ormolu, and with it led the procession, first up the +tower’s stair to the chamber prepared for the prisoner’s +sojourn, and then down and through almost the whole +building, down to the vaults, up other towers, through +crowds of halls and corridors, now with sounding footsteps, +now with muffled, everyone chattering with +some other in sets nonchalantly, Monsieur de Courcy +and Monseigneur with their heads together before, +and, behind, the Abbé Sauriau with the good +bonhomme Brisson, whose right side, as along he +stumped, stooped at every step of his right bow-leg.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</span> +He was giving the abbé a reason why he must needs +leave Egmond that very evening, having come merely +to attend the committee-meeting, when for the +twentieth time he stopped to stare at a painting; and +since he had already explained that he was then buying, +he was left to pursue his hobby by the abbé, +who did not observe that behind each of the pictures +that Monsieur Brisson peered at he left a certain little +object resembling a night-light; and behind one +picture he left a vial and his handkerchief.</p> + +<p>After all, it was found that the tower-chamber which +Captain Pertius had chosen was the most eligible; +and, everything at last arranged, the committee +separated to come among the ladies.</p> + +<p>At this hour, with the moon in the clouds, and +groups of ladies and their gallants moving round the +grounds, and sounds of music in the <i>salons</i> and +galleries, Egmond looked a stately and picturesque +place. The Misses Vickery were strolling with +Monsieur de Courcy along the brink of an oblong of +water that stretched far-slumbering in boscage from +the bottom of the terraces to a mosque of marble at +its far end, when there came up to them Dr. Lepsius +to take part in their walk; but presently a messenger +from Monseigneur Piscari came to call Monsieur de +Courcy, who with his lips just touched a finger-tip +of his future-one with a great parade of grace, and +went away; soon after which Miss Ruth, too, was +called by another party of promenaders—a Schuré +group, Fanny Schuré burnished in coloured fires like +mother-of-pearl, with whom Miss Ruth stopped to +gossip, the innocent with the guilty, Dr. Lepsius and +Miss Eve meantime going on to the mosque.</p> + +<p>And there, sitting alone in a casement, they two +spoke some time in low tones, while more and more<span class="pagenum" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</span> +the moon imbued the night with the mood of her +beauty and her quietude, and communed sleepily the +lily-leaves of the pool. It was when they were getting +up to go away that Dr. Lepsius said, “But I mustn’t +trouble a bride with an old man’s sorrows—in three +days’ time you will be a bride, and I rejoice in your +choice, which I think a wise one.”</p> + +<p>Miss Eve had risen, seeming in her white evening-dress, +with whitest cheeks, even weird in that sheen, +and she replied with a chuckle, “It was prophesied +me that I should not be a bride for some time to +come!”</p> + +<p>“By my son?... Well, he has no little might +in this lower world,” the old man murmured, “but +have no fear, he is by no means omnipotent, and, +as I have hinted, he is at this moment in extreme +peril for his own skin.”</p> + +<p>Sharply at this, with a haughty heave-up of her +chin, Miss Eve asked, “Who could touch him?”</p> + +<p>“Ah! it is dubious,” the old man said musingly, +bending over his oak stick; “still—I believe—by +many eyes, and by many hands, and by the agreement +of many wits and wills of men and God, it shall +be achieved!” and now he struck the stick sharply +upon the <i>perron</i> of steps down which they were now +passing to the path, Miss Eve laughing a little with +a meaning that was hardly understood, saying, “And +his father, if I am rightly informed, is with his +enemies?”</p> + +<p>“That is so,” said Dr. Lepsius with an inclination +of his head, whereat she stopped walking to face him, +asking, “With your eyes quite open, Dr. Lepsius?”</p> + +<p>“Well, I hope so,” the doctor answered.</p> + +<p>“You have thought, then, of what will certainly +happen, if—after—I am married on Friday?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</span></p> + +<p>Dr. Lepsius glanced up at her, having noted her +tones go shaky, and on beholding her face bony with +agitation, said with some astonishment, “No, what +will happen?”</p> + +<p>“Your son will <i>kill</i> himself.”</p> + +<p>And while the doctor with an eye of scare stared +at her, she with a certain roistering and hilarity added, +“And since royalty should have servants rejoicing +to join in its voyages, <i>two</i> you may see, if not more, +go to attend on his ghost.”</p> + +<p>“Two—I do not quite——” the doctor stammered.</p> + +<p>“I meant my poor father for one,” she sighed, continuing +to walk.</p> + +<p>But since her “kill himself” the doctor had but +absently heard what was said, and “kill himself!” +he cried suddenly, crimson with anger, “let him! +let him! I will go to his funeral! For I’d sooner +follow him to the tomb——”</p> + +<p>“Now, Dr. Lepsius, a father ought not to be down +on a son,” Miss Eve said, “though I know that he +has been beastly to you.”</p> + +<p>At this tears gushed to the old man’s eyes. “Oh, +it isn’t that, dear Eve—it isn’t the bitter ingratitude, +the bruise, the gash in here: but how shall I not be +against him in what he undoubtedly aims to bring +about, when the mouth of every gash which he gives +our race will shout out in rage against me? You see, +do you not——?”</p> + +<p>But now the old man, touched on the shoulder, +looked about, and saw Monsieur Leflô, who had come +down an <i>allée</i> in the leafage as a messenger of the +Count de Courcy, seeking the doctor; so the doctor +went off with Monsieur Leflô, while Miss Eve, spying +Miss Ruth in a group ahead, moved to go to her; +but suddenly became aware of a stump, stump,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</span> +of one limping in an <i>allée</i>, and in some +seconds was accosted with a murmur of the word, +“Mademoiselle.”</p> + +<p>It was Monsieur Brisson of Rouen.</p> + +<p>And when Miss Eve looked at him without seeming +to know him, he, though undoubtedly agitated, +said with a coarse chuckle that she and he had been +shoulder to shoulder at the Quai d’Orsay that evening +when a particular individual had dared to take +a liberty with her lips: at which thing Miss Eve stood +like a queen who stands astonished at so much insolence +under the sun, then silently went on her way.</p> + +<p>But this Monsieur Brisson was not one who could +be banished with a chin; he followed to breathe near +Miss Eve’s ear, “I wish to speak to you of him, he +may be here to-morrow, and I have a message....”</p> + +<p>“<i>Here?</i>”</p> + +<p>“Let us go down that <i>allée</i>.”</p> + +<p>She hesitated, and he glanced like lightning at his +watch. “Only three minutes to be with you—come.”</p> + +<p>Now she walked with him into the dark of the <i>allée</i>, +looking down at the ground, like one magnetised, +drawn with a cord.</p> + +<p>“For what reason will he be here?” she breathed.</p> + +<p>“On business.”</p> + +<p>“You are to inform your master, monsieur,” she +then said in a haughty manner, “if Monsieur Lepsius +happens to be your master, that I know him to be in +much danger, so that he should have a care.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, trust in him!” said Monsieur Brisson imploringly, +stumping along by her side with dippings +of his right shoulder; “do you imagine that, loving +you, he can miscarry? He feels that the breath of +his love is vibrant enough by itself to heave mountains +out of their beds, and bear them as bubbles to the sea.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</span> +Nor is his danger so much; it will be nothing, if you +will consent to fly with me this instant.”</p> + +<p>“This instant?” she whispered furtively: “to +fly? Away? With you?... But what, then, am +I? A beast, with a beast’s soul? Evil to the core? +Reckless, furious, moon-struck? Is there no Christ +for me on high, I wonder? No right? No wrong?”</p> + +<p>“If you came,” said her companion with some +bitterness, though touched by her trouble, “it would +save much time; and you would come, if hypocrisy +was not your breath and bread,” upon which she +rushed into an irritation not to be restrained, crying, +“That is monstrously untrue and unkind! I mean +well!”</p> + +<p>“Well,” he said, “I did not expect you to come +with me, for I know you. But you have to show me +the windows of your bed-chamber.”</p> + +<p>Now she stopped walking, standing tall, gaunt, her +heart galloping up in her gorge, asking, “Why my +windows?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, nothing: just show,” he muttered; and when +she had stared a little while at him, she paced on in +silence.</p> + +<p>Presently she went down another <i>allée</i> which led +them to the terraces at the front and south of the house, +and hence went on to the brink of a lake which laved +with its waters a platform of marble at the château-back. +Not a soul was thereabouts, no sound, only +the spirit of the moon brooding upon the face of +the lake and down the solitude of avenues of yews; +and here immediately Monsieur Brisson stooped to +whip off that thick-soled boot of his, whipped off his +frock-coat, wrapped his two boots, with his top-hat, +his spectacles, and his waist-coat in the coat, and cast +all into the water, where they sank; in doing which<span class="pagenum" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</span> +very hurriedly, he asked, “Well, which are your +windows?”</p> + +<p>She, with her back toward the house and toward +him, her brow bent downward, replied to the ground +in a proud guttural that trembled, “I am sure I do +not know why such a question should be asked of me.... +My windows happen to be those two on the +first floor immediately over the balcony-end near by +the statue—since it seems that the knowledge is +desired.”</p> + +<p>The plash of the coat with its weight sounded now +in the lake, and “Monsieur Brisson,” that bow of his +right leg quite gone, stood now limber on his bare +feet, his elbow suddenly about Miss Eve’s waist: +whereat she, feeling his lips stealing near her face, +went fearfully pale; nearer, and she shivered with sickness; +nearer, and she sucked in her breath as at +luscious juice and shooting pangs, sighed “By +heaven,” and had his lips.</p> + +<p>He put her to lie on a bench of marble by the waterside, +whence she through her half-shut eyelids watched +him run away with a deer’s ease up an avenue of the +park, and disappear in darkness.</p> + +<p>Some way down that avenue was a summer-house in +a bower, and there the runner stopped his career some +seconds to conceal beneath the seat some sheets of +paper, a piece of pencil, and two tiny tools of steel +like keys, then shot on. And it was there that at 6 +p.m. the next day, as Lepsius was driving from St. +Brieuc station to the château in a carriage of +Monseigneur Piscari, the carriage stopped, and was at +once surrounded by a crowd of <i>pioupious</i> and others. +When he demanded of them what was the matter, +they answered that he was a captive, and Captain +Pertius, who was with them, then proceeded, with a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</span> +perfectly ashen visage and hands which shivered like +leaves, to search each nook of Lepsius’ costume, even +his shoes, searching especially for a certain little key, +which, however, was not to be found. Lepsius’ trunk +was sent on to the house, and everything taken from +him. “Oh, let one have his watch,” he protested, but +without effect. However, by an act one might say infinite +in deftness, he contrived as he was being hustled +down out of the carriage to snatch behind him the +watch of Shan Healy who attended him, and was not +seen. He was then imprisoned in the summer-house +with a sentry of some ten mounted upon him; and in +there, having taken the paper and pencil from their +place of concealment beneath the seat, he threw himself, +face down, on the seat, and in a brown light +began to draw diagrams.</p> + +<p>On the day commencing to dim, he took out his +collar-stud, touched it, and it shed round his sheets +an electric sheen.</p> + +<p>Soon after two in the morning he was removed to +the room fitted out for him in the tower; the same +hour the members of the League being met in council +to congratulate each other and resolve on the next +measures.</p> + +<p>But early the next day their joys suffered much +alloy through the turning up at the château of a certain +Monsieur Brisson of Rouen, who had no resemblance +to that first Monsieur Brisson of the conference! this +new Brisson having the story to tell that, on going +to a bogus business interview in Rouen, he had been +imprisoned in a room by a gang of men, his papers +grabbed, and he made to write a letter to his family +saying that he was safe, and in Amiens on affairs. +Only after four and forty hours had he been set free. +So now the problem arose—<i>who</i> could have been that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</span> +Brisson-of-the-limp who had attended the conference?</p> + +<p>Lepsius, however, was there in the tower, safe +enough, which was everything.... It was an eight-cornered +chamber where he was, arranged with some +little luxury, and large; but he suffered, being unaccustomed +to be between walls, and here was but one +window, with bars in it, while, as to the lush carpet, +the eye of his consciousness was at every moment open +to the microbic hordes that must be at barracks within +it, nor could he bathe with ease, he who bathed +frequently each day, nor was the food such as was +usual with him, being much too luscious.</p> + +<p>This was first served to him by a person who had +a beard and appeared to be a man, but was not so +loosely costumed but that certain curves of the +womanly could be observed in him—or her. On seeing +her when she bore in his breakfast, Lepsius +moaned, and flew to the other extremity of the +chamber, where he held a chair-back, ready if she +attacked; but when she had put down the breakfast +without glancing at him, and had gone, his brow +reddened, and having begged one of four guards for +pen and ink, he wrote to Monseigneur Piscari, asking +whether monseigneur was privy to the fact that one +Jeanne Auvache, a convict with a mania, who had +been aided by his, Lepsius’, enemies, to evade prison, +had been sent to attend upon him. He received no +answer to this, but the woman ceased to appear at +meals.</p> + +<p>It was a superb day—the third of July—and by +springing up to his little window-ledge, and hanging +on, as he twice did, he could see groups of elegant +folk moving remotely over the terraces or gossiping +in retreats of greenery, appearing pigmy far down +below all that half-globe of sky and tabernacle-hall<span class="pagenum" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</span> +of cloud, like spirits idling in paradise; and once he +was able to make out the face of Mr. Vickery, and +once knew Miss Ruth, but of that form that his eyes +sought saw no sign.</p> + +<p>Most of the day he spent on his face on his table +over plans of buildings and machines, which he concealed +when the meals came in at one o’clock and at +seven in the evening—for it was not suspected that +he had any pencil and paper; and when the meals—none +of which he touched—had been cleared away, +he bathed at a basin of delf ware that stood on a +tripod of iron under the window. This window looked +toward the west, though the tower itself formed the +south-east corner of the château, which looked eastward. +So as the afternoon’s heat waxed fierce in the +room, he drew down his blind of dimity, and now continued +his labour cooler in a cave of shade which the +blind’s maroon colour imbrued with a blush of ruby; +but when the sun had well declined, he anew drew +up the blind, sprang up to the window, and, like a +monkey peering keenly into something never previously +seen among its trees, clung on long to peer +into the scene of the sunset—a sight rather high and +tragic really for the heart of a man, the sun going +down all among bars of crimson, the brow of God +drooped, disgloried, His arms far outcast in gory +crucifixion. Then the door opened and the meal of +the evening came in, to be immediately taken away +untasted; and now with feet of impatience, frowning, +the prisoner paced about the chamber. No light was +brought him when it became dark, for his jailers, +having an apprehension that he might turn objects +to unusual uses, took care that as few objects as might +be should be in the chamber, not even a knife having +been taken him with the meals. But by the aid of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</span> +an electric stud, he spent some time in prying into +the make of the lock of the door, though he had +already looked into it two nights before, after the +conference, in his rôle of “Monsieur Brisson”: which +done, near eight o’clock, shunning the bed with its +bed-clothes, he chose a part of the floor where no +carpet was, cast a look at Shan Healy’s watch, and +went to sleep there.</p> + +<p>He knew (having been at the council), that at the +hour of two he was to be roused to go on board a +brig, bound for the bastille on the Ile de Bas; so +he had commanded Shan Healy to conceal himself in +the château and come to the prison-door exactly at +1.50, so as to help Lepsius to carry a load which +Lepsius conceived that he would have need to carry. +Ten minutes, then, before that 1.50, at a moment when +preparations were being made in the château below to +take him to the ship, Lepsius awoke to act. He was +still at the lock of the door with the two little tools +that he had hidden in the summer-house before his +capture, when howls of “Help! help!” broke out +without the door, and he was made aware that Shan +Healy must be engaged in a struggle with the greenhorn +<i>pioupiou</i> on guard out there; but the <i>pioupiou’s</i> +howls were at once drowned in the sound of a +disturbance resembling the bursting of some +tremendous drum somewhere, which just then made +the château to tremble through its breadth and +length; and before that roaring was well over, Shan, +who had felled the <i>pioupiou</i> with the <i>pioupiou’s</i> +lantern, broke blithely with the lantern-light into the +room, the lock of whose door had at that moment +opened to the key of Lepsius.</p> + +<p>But the poor fellow’s blitheness had no long life. +He did not enter the chamber alone—at least, scarcely<span class="pagenum" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</span> +less closely than a shadow follows did the feet of a +female follow him in. No word had yet been uttered +between Shan Healy and Lepsius, and Lepsius was +just going to call out “Come!” (in a din now as +dreadful as all the guns of Armageddon mouthing, the +house racking its frame to fragments, the ground quaking) +when he changed his “Come” into a shout of +“Out with the light!” at the same moment bolting to +the other side of the chamber. But either Healy did +not hear, or stood in a condition of mind too flurried +for sprightly action (for he, too, had spied the woman +as she had slammed the door after her); at all events, +nothing was done as to the light, and Lepsius, as +he pelted, moaned, the ogress after him, staring, her +hair cut close, ugly, ghostly, grim as the very grave. +“Shoot!” shrieked the fugitive to Healy, who, too, +was in hot pursuit; but, even assuming that Healy +was able to hear in the blare of that tumult, he must +have perceived that he lacked the time to fire—unless, +indeed, he was quite wondrously quick—because at +that moment the woman’s arm was drawn back to +throw her liquid; he saw it; did not see that by this +time Lepsius was safe, having a chair with which to +hide his face; and as the fluid was starting from the +vial, wildly Healy flew between, receiving the bath +of vitriol all over his right cheek and throat.</p> + +<p>He could not help shrieking...!</p> + +<p>“Idiot!” hissed Lepsius, who, as he now darted +away, caught a weapon out of Shan’s pocket, sent +with one glance backward and a nervous gurgle of +chuckling a bullet into the woman’s bosom, which, +however, chanced not to end her, and was out and +away.</p> + +<p>Right through the howling hell of the house from +east to west he had now to hie: and fleet were his<span class="pagenum" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</span> +feet and alight his eye. Twice only he stopped a +moment, once when, in pelting up a stair, he met +flying down in a nightgown a girl whom with his +lowered head he felled by butting her, knowing that +if she descended she would be butchered; and a second +time he stopped in a corridor to take the vial and +handkerchief which as “Monsieur Brisson” he had +placed there behind a painting. No want of light +anywhere: for at various places the building was +already in flames, which flames, serving as flambeaux, +reddened the chambers where no flame burned; but +as he spurted onward with his vial, the flooring +violently sprang beneath his feet, and he was thrown +against a wall, where he remained rather aghast some +moments, until smoke in his throat caused him to +cough, and anew he flew, though at one point forced +to win his way with toil and patience over floorless +joists. And afresh every forty seconds or so all the +house started at a sound which opened its mouth to +appal the heart and astound the darkness with the +message of its solemnity, after each of which deep-mouthed +sounds count one second’s pause and waiting, +and now came downfalls crackling, like the +brittle outbreaks of arrays of rifles prattling: for the +bombs resembling night-lights that “Monsieur +Brisson” had left behind statues, etc., had been timed +to fuse, not in a mass, but one by one; and though +he had so placed them in the below-stairs as not much +to imperil the lives of the château slumberers, they +were many, and were meant by him thoroughly to +wreck the structure wherein men in their vanity had +ventured to hem him. Anon he was aware of +fugitives, single or in groups, staring, conscious of +sin and of doomsday come: the Duc de Rey-Drouilhet, +all toothless now, his nightshirt aflaunt,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</span> +flying down a curving stair, calling out upon the +rocks and hills to cover him; then the stout Abbé +Sauriau clambering over a mound of débris, his +trousers unbraced; then through the fumes that rolled +all round a courtyard Miss Ruth Vickery in a dressing-gown +on a gallery, dragging her father faster than +he could go, Monsieur de Courcy, too, with them, +Lepsius himself then flying along a lower gallery on +the opposite side of the court; and as they were going +west—to see to Miss Eve, he guessed—and were well +ahead of him, never did his feet so fleetly speed. The +delay of some seconds occasioned by the invasion of +his chamber by Jeanne Auvache had disturbed the +course of events as forecasted by him, and he had +hardly burst into his darling’s apartments and turned +the outer key, when her father’s poundings were +sounding at the panels without.</p> + +<p>Erect on her bare soles in an alcove, robed in a +bedroom-robe of lace, a stone stone-still, her hair a +rope plaited to a bow of ribbon at her knees, Miss Eve +stood, waiting, aware of his tumults, but beauteously +dead, as one who has interviewed the stare of Medusa; +and all in a tick, like a cat fawning, Lepsius was cast +at her feet, kissing them, pleading, “Dear, will you +come with me?”</p> + +<p>Her friends were pressingly clamouring at the +entrance; they screamed, “<i>Eve!</i>”</p> + +<p>She took no notice of them, if she heard; as to +Lepsius, she hurled up her right hand to strike him +dead, crying, “You brute!”</p> + +<p>“Oh, do—for us two—beloved——”</p> + +<p>“I bitterly hate and abhor the pair of us!”</p> + +<p>“But you will get us both killed——”</p> + +<p>“Thank God!”</p> + +<p>Now he started up, an arm about her. “I have to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</span> +make you faint,” his handkerchief at her face; and +like fate she took it, did not fight, or very slightly, +resigned herself, smiled, sighed, closed her eyes ... +and in some moments, by means of a sheet, he had +reached the platform of marble thirty feet beneath, +heard through the turmoil in his rear the noise of guns +booming before—a signal from his yacht in the bay—leapt +the balusters with his burden into the lake waters, +waded, swam a bit, obliquely north-westward, +reached the lake’s bank, and there among reeds and +bulrushes sat down to breathe and rest, her brow on +his breast.</p> + +<p>Southward, a smoke that soared to the clouds was +being poured out steadily from the château, which ever +throed inwardly with loud-bursting noises and sounds +of rumbling like poisoned bowels and Etna boiling; +and that plume of fume-and-fire slanted continually +from point to point of the compass, for a wind +boisterously blew, drizzle sprayed the face, and the +moon, while suffusing the night wildly with the whiteness +of her light, was herself quite hidden away out +of sight in cloud.</p> + +<p>Lepsius was soon up and gone again with his load, +knowing that pursuit would not be slow: but it was a +great labour; the country there is rugged; Miss Eve, +drugged, could not, or would not, keep on her feet; +Healy, with whose help the load would have been +easy, moaned in his agonies somewhere; and the bay +lay nearly a league away.</p> + +<p>However, half-way to the shore he found waiting +in a gorge where the gloom was gross under crags +the Hindoo Nundcumar, together with four of his +mariners, their eyes raised to the inflamed sky; nor +was it long before a little half-harbour snoring in sleep +between the arms of beetling crags, a brig’s green and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</span> +crimson beams, a steam-yacht’s three beams, lay +before them, and near a little pier of stone the men +of two boats who lay on their oars for him, one a +boat of his foes, one his own; and flushing the vault +of heaven, even here, a false dawn flung far abroad +from the château, and over the shore the breakers +making their snoring, Miss Eve’s feet bleeding, and +streamlets of drizzle-spray in haste on her face.</p> + +<p>They lodged her, still unconscious (as it seemed), +among cushions, and plied to the ship, which, lying +with steam at a moment’s notice, immediately steamed +away, turning toward the west: and rushing she went, +urgently churning the sea—a long boat burnished with +Tobin-bronze, burning the eye like a strip of the sun; +and as the dawn worked and began gradually to overspread +all the world of waters and of coast, Lepsius, +prying a port on the stern, spied like pearl the +pinnacles of Serapis.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV.<br> + + +<span class="sm">AT SERAPIS.</span></h2> +</div> + +<p>Lepsius, to the amazement of men, remained at +Serapis for weeks, to the very eve of the Exhibition, +though he quickly established a system of posts and +telephones with Monsieur Schuré and other men of +importance: as to which the Hindoo, Nundcumar, +remarked to Shan Healy, “It is a piece of slackness, +this; once he would not have done this: but when a +woman comes in, great minds begin to go rotten, and +look a little ahead, my sonnies, and you will see their +catastrophe head-over-heels.”</p> + +<p>It was then the turn of the Hindoo with his burned +nose to drone by the bedside of Healy; and Healy, +who had conceived a fever from his vitriol-dose, said +with a moan, “Won’t she let him see her yet?”</p> + +<p>Nundcumar wagged his head meaningly-meaninglessly, +going, “Not she: true-blue British and A1, +a queen of queens! keeps him dewrithing in the +deepest depths of hell! That morning when she +landed, he thought he had her, my sonnies; but, if +he is artful, she is a bit artfuller still: peeped through +the rose-curtains of her palankeen, smiling with him +like any dancing-girl, gabbing and gossiping with +him about Serapis, and how he built it; then when +she was in and saw Serapis, and what it is, her +nostrils spread a bit, her breath stops a bit; +but by the time he had got her into the west +ivory seraglio, and gave her to know that that was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</span> +to be her special palace, she had come to herself +again, looking as compleased as Sir Punch himself, +smiling with him, and he with her, and she with +him, all very fine and large; so she halts before one +of the bashi-bazouks guarding a hall, gaping at his +get-up, his thises and his thats, his whys and his +wherefores, makes him draw his sword to show her, +all marquetry of little gems and gold, his dagger, all +marquetry of little seed-gems, a real pleasure, delight +and comfort to man’s ophthalmoscoptics; and, says +she, ‘How pretty, Lepsius!’ she says, drawing the +dagger out of the guard’s paws; ‘oh, I mean to +keep this; may I?’ So Mr. High and Mr. Mighty +he looks at her quick, then lowers his eyes, and at +last he mutters, ‘Yes,’ reluctantly. Then she begs +him to go, as she has a migraine-ache, so he hands +her over to her ladies, and goes; and the moment he +is gone she squats to pen him a note: and what do +you suppose was in it?”</p> + +<p>Shan Healy tossed for ease, moaning. “Anybody +can easy enough guess out what was in it; but how +the deuce do <i>you</i> know?”</p> + +<p>“I know and I know,” said the Hindoo with a +moving head, “and what I do not know is what man +knoweth not, for that which is is shown unto me. +And in the note, word for word, she says, ‘Lepsius, +I admit myself your prisoner here in Serapis. You +understand though, I think, knowing me armed, that +I instantly die if you venture to enter anew any part +of my palace; test me, I woo you, to see whether I +mean it or not.—<span class="smcap">Eve.</span>’ That was her scribble, my +sonnies, and the wording and reverbosity of her constructing.”</p> + +<p>Healy opened and closed anew his sick eyes to +reply, “<i>If</i> it’s true.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</span></p> + +<p>“What, don’t you suppose I ever let slip something +that’s true, for form’s sake, in the hey-day and prime +of life?” prated the utterly senseless ape-tongue of the +Hindoo that ambled blandly in a monotone along, +with the obscurest meanings anon, if meaning it had.</p> + +<p>“So he ain’t seen her since?” Healy asked.</p> + +<p>“He has seen her every day, though she little +thinks it! for she is artful, but he is artfuller still——”</p> + +<p>“Old gas-bag,” Healy moaned, “you said just +now that <i>he</i> is artful, but <i>she</i> is artfuller still.”</p> + +<p>“Both are artfuller than each one, my chum +Healy,” Nundcumar said: “<i>he</i> is artfuller than she +because he is of the guiley ones and artful dodges, +the beguilers and the wilers, and <i>she</i> is artfuller than +he because she is a woman, and the guilt of womanhood +is in the juice of her gall-bladder. But he sees +her when she little believes it: his eyes have their +peep-holes and their spy-places to weigh her and dwell +upon her when she’s wantoning on the water with her +poet and her ladies, or when she is walking under +the arcade of the courtyard gazing at the gauderies +and the graces of her Persian and Delhi girls dancing +with their carcanets of pearl in the moonshine: for she +grows every day more luxuriatingous, which is the +curse of Serapis for everyone who enters it, from the +lord of all to the low-cast coolie who polishes the +porphyries; and in these three weeks she has grown +into a regular begum-queen, true-blue old England +as she is, and if he only waits a bit, he will get and +win her, be certain—that is, if she does not flirt off +abscond and run away first with the young poet +Pershorez——”</p> + +<p>At this the sick man looked at Nundcumar to sigh, +“Oh, you scandalous tongue—if I only had the +strength——”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</span></p> + +<p>“Why, my friend Healy,” said Nundcumar, +“have your ears not heard how she pets her little +Pershorez? Cannot stir without him near her! Feeds +him with sweetmeats, conserve of roses, orange-honey +of Kauzeroon, and all delights, almond-patés, and +amusements! her eyes musing on his eyes all an afternoon +in that small hall of red andem-wood, while he +recites to her from Hafez and Ferdousi, sir-poets of +Persia whom she cannot understand a word, though +she can well understand the face of Pershorez, my +sonnies, which is only made of cream of gazelle-milk +and rose-leaves fading, and his little figure more +perfect in grace, symmetry, curves, and very hungriness +of perfecting than Thammuz, the love-god that +Syrian girls go thin for fancy of, and sigh for very +hungriness of delight, and die of. And that other +one, the lord of all, he knows, he knows, of this, because +Barova, the little Arab slave-maid, who is thin, +faint and gaunt for love of lord Lepsius, she pushed +her way one night right into his private hall in the +north palace, and told out of her mistress, how the +grossness of the sap of womanly hungriness grows +wanton in the arteries of her gall for Pershorez; and +first he could not grasp what the girl wished to say +to him, but then for very anguish of jealousy he cast +back his head-piece and laughed wild——”</p> + +<p>“Laughed for fun,” sighed Healy—“if any of it +is true.”</p> + +<p>“For fun, may be, and may be not for fun,” the +Hindoo said with a moving head: “though not much +fun in Serapis going on these days. Wait, wait: for +that’s bad, Healy, when the evil eye is cast upon a +man, and the villain woman with the vitriol is not yet +dead, for first it was poor old-boy Nundcumar on +his oil-factory nose, and then it was you, poor boy,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</span> +and the third time it will be—another one of the ones. +That’s bad, that’s bad. And the seeds of disease spring +and spread in Serapis; he loses hours now in peeping +and dreaming and brooding about her—loose! +looser every day; and when the woman comes in greatness +goes out and out, for the race of man would be a +crowd of gods, but the presence of woman relaxes his +screw and corrupts his entrails. Peeping, dreaming, +like any Pershorez poet! and his Exhibition that is +all the talk coming so near! Several times he has +passed hours hanging about her: once stood guard +disguised as a Mamaluke under that cupola of enamels +of her outer hall to see her pass close; and he has +fanned her face disguised as a slave-girl, where she +sat listening among her cushions to her Persian girls +singing to the vina, with the zels clashing aloud, and +the kanoon-lutes making music and all sorts of sounds, +alarms, loudness and howdedo of melody; and he has +come to embalm her musk-baths, attended her bathing, +painted her nails with henna, and she with her weapon +none the wiser——”</p> + +<p>The sick fellow whined at this, sighing, “Pity +you’re quite so vile an old liar, after all.”</p> + +<p>“Who—me?” said the Hindoo, a finger at his +breast: “why, some of it is true, my friend Healy, +as the four and fourteen gospels! And how about +the letters that go between them, have you not heard +of this? For every day he writes her three-four times, +and every morning that dawns she writes him a line, +though for two weeks she would not, but when he +raged, prayed, raved, consought and implored her +with so much squalling, pain, despair and foaming, +she said at last that she would write him one line +every morning, giving him a puzzle-problem to solve, +since he is so witty, wise and witful in all wiles and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</span> +witticisms, and if ever once he failed wittily to answer +her, he must agree to let her go from her prison in +Serapis to her parent, who is sick to death for lack of +her, though Sir Lepsius sends her daily the report +that her parent is in health and roarious spirits. So +every morning that dawns her note goes as regular as +the milk-carts and the market-gardeners all the way +through from the west to the north of Serapis, wrapt +in satin in her poet’s hand; and one day the lady has +written, ‘Lepsius, tell me to-day if the spirits of men +live ever and ever.—<span class="smcap">Eve</span>’; and one day she has written +‘Lepsius, write me to-day (with a why) which wild-rose +is sweeter and wilder: those all white on the +weald, or those which are washed as with shame.—<span class="smcap">Eve</span>’; +and one day she has written, ‘Lepsius, tell +me to-day how the heavens and star-dust were formed +out of nothing.—<span class="smcap">Eve</span>’; and he to her writes the most +fantasticalest, whimsiest, witticismest answers, replies +and respondencies, as she has shown them to her old +Nundcumar when she sits listening with delight to +my tales, faries, frivols, and other lip-froth; and as +to that of the forming of the heavens and star-dust, +he wrote her that, once upon a time of the times, One +Who Is, wishing to compose an oratorio of music, +brewed oceans of ink in a bowl of gold, and, holding +in hand a pen of gold, began to compose and throw +off the notes of his oratorio; but soon, when the +beauty of the music stressed and throed in his soul, +so that he pressed well upon the pen, the pen +splintered, and the ink spattered, blotching with spots +and splashes all the blackness of the vault: so One +Who Is roamed more remotely into the womb of gloom +to compose some more glorious oratorio. So they +toy and coy, and bill and coo together, my sonnies; +but wait—let him go on: the seeds of disease spring<span class="pagenum" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</span> +and spread in Serapis, say I; he gets slacker and +laxer with his idol-lady; wantonness and riot is growing +among some of the scum of the domestics; many +of the men, and their commanders, too, are grumbling +with discontent because of regulatings and strictness; +that villain woman——”</p> + +<p>Here, however, the entrance of a sister-of-mercy, +Healy’s nurse, whose frown the Hindoo knew, interrupted +and drove him out; immediately whereupon +Healy begged to be permitted to pen a note, and on +gaining the battle, wrote as follows: “Master Hanni, +I beg to be forgiven for writing to you, but as I do +not much fancy now that I shall ever be getting up +out of this again, that’s why I take this liberty, which +is to say that I wish to God, Master Hanni, you would +get that dog of a Hindoo Nundcumar from being near +about you, for he means you no good, I doubt, and +under the ridiculousness of a parrot this man hides +ten times the craftiness of a fox. Dear Master Hanni, +you may not be aware that thirteen years since Nundcumar +was two years in Wormwood Scrubbs Prison, +near by London, for stealing two bicycles. And, +Master Hanni, that you may never cease to remember +with any breath you breathe that Jeanne Auvache remains +alive is the dying prayer of yours till death, +Shan Healy. I’d give fifteen years, if I had fifteen +days, to lay my eyes on your face once again for one +moment on this side, but that may be a bit more than +I can expect of you: and, if not, good-bye to you.”</p> + +<p>A little slave of Healy’s was at once sent out with +this letter, which two hours later reached the hand of +Lepsius in the north-east regions of Serapis, where +he lay in a diwan-i-am, or hall of audience; and his +glance having lassoed in one swoop the significance +of the note, he threw it among other notes into an<span class="pagenum" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</span> +alcove of the throne in which he lay, saying to a gentleman +(a commissaire) who sat with him, “No, +Monsieur Hugonnet, you have my assurance: she is +not in Serapis; she perished in the collapse of +Egmond.”</p> + +<p>“Not so, monsieur, I think,” said Monsieur +Hugonnet, a big bureaucrat, who ever struck the wind +with his eye-glass in his fingers: “that theory is no +longer tenable, for it is now established that some +shreds of her body must have been found. Moreover, +you do not forget the crew of the brig’s boat who saw +a lady carried into your boat?”</p> + +<p>“It was another lady,” replied Lepsius, smiling, +“as ten days ago I gave myself the pains to prove to +Monsieur Leflô and Lord Rawlinson.”</p> + +<p>“Monsieur, I admit it,” the commissary replied: +“you have conclusively proved that Miss Vickery is +made of air; this, nevertheless, seems a matter in +which frankness, reasonableness and right feeling +might well be invoked on both sides. Think, +monsieur—the lady’s father lies half dead of it; and +the English Government, I give you my word, +monsieur, grows every day more earnest, more urgent——” +at which Lepsius, jumping up with a rather +reddened brow, went walking about a hall all pillars +of marble, between which stretched screens of perforated +marble and filigrees of gold, screens low enough +for one to overgaze, away below, the crags of the +Brittany coast, and, away beyond these, a streak of +sea, indigo corruscated with snow-glints under the +sun’s glare.</p> + +<p>“<i>Let</i> the English Government grow urgent,” +Lepsius, returning to Monsieur Hugonnet, suddenly +said: “what then? What would you and it have? +Have I not allowed your troops to enter and ransack +every crack of Serapis? Have you found Miss<span class="pagenum" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</span> +Vickery? No. So, then, she is not here? Nor is +she made of air, monsieur, believe me, but of flesh +and blood, and her palms, if you palpate them, will +be warmer to you than the bark of the maple. So, +why have you not found her? And how much more +of my time shall I have to lavish on this matter?”</p> + +<p>“Serapis is not so much a palace as a town——” the +commissary commenced to say.</p> + +<p>“Still, you have searched it throughout!”</p> + +<p>“Let us search it again, monsieur, for certainty’s +sake!”</p> + +<p>“Again? And when?”</p> + +<p>“Say to-morrow, will you?”</p> + +<p>“Well, it is ridiculous; still——”</p> + +<p>“Scribble me a pass, monsieur!”</p> + +<p>Lepsius scribbled a pass for the following day, and +the commissary went away.</p> + +<p>As for Lepsius, he had no fear of the legal visit, +since his reason for giving Miss Eve her (west) palace +was that in it were rooms so curiously and astutely +concealed, that no keenest wit could suspect them; +and on the previous visit of the police Miss Eve was +easily induced on some excuse to step, unsuspecting, +into one of these. So Lepsius smiled, as he once more +stepped up to recline in his kind of throne, little thinking +that that commissary was more cunning than he +looked.</p> + +<p>He was about to sound for the following interview, +but instead put out his hand to Healy’s letter: +did not, however, lift it; but, his hand on it, reflected +a little; then sprang up, and ran out, down the length +of three corridors, across a hanging gallery, guards +making him salaam, down a stair, along a lake, southwestward +always, knowing his way without fail, slaves +and dignitaries, going on their various duties,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</span> +standing agape, saluting his tunic’s glare, his turban’s +egrette of heron’s feathers aburn with seed-pearl, and +up a curved stairway to a certain curtain: and Healy’s +Ursuline nurse stood up amazed to see him peer in, +and wished to wake Healy, who lay breathing +strangely in sleep; but Lepsius restrained her.</p> + +<p>Lepsius stood about two minutes, looking down at +that rash on the sick brow, the bandages on the +breached cheek; took up, looked at, smelled two of +the medicine bottles; took up and held the sick hand; +and, holding it, gazed out with a brow of trouble +through a great window which was hollowed out in +Moorish ogives, out into a court where the whiteness +of a minaret in the midst of a lake was reflected far +down in the water, with zephyrs flirting along the +water’s surface: an afternoon in July in which all that +Brittany country slumbrously basked, and bumblebees, +as air-boats trading, tromboned a moment, as +through steamboat throttles, their boom of music across +the ear-drum dreamily, and cruised to some other ear. +Somehow Lepsius sighed. And whispering the +sister, “Tell him that I came,” he went away in +haste.</p> + +<p>But he had hardly passed beyond the door’s hanging, +when a French functionary with a wild and white +face, wringing his hands together, raced to him with +the hiss, “My God, monsieur, all is lost! Monsieur +Hugonnet has gained admission with a squad of +gendarmes, and is now searching Miss Vickery’s +house!”</p> + +<p>Quickly Lepsius’ eyes stirred from side to side. +What had happened he saw: Hugonnet, aiming to +take Lepsius by surprise (as he did!) had adventured +to present to the guards at the great gates the pass +intended for the morrow, and they had not noticed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</span> +the date; nor was there any possibility of inducing +Miss Eve at a moment’s notice to move into one of the +secret rooms, nor any possibility of checking the +officers in their search, nor any possibility of keeping +her a prisoner in Serapis, if she was once seen, nor +any possibility of living without keeping her....</p> + +<p>Lepsius flew....</p> + +<p>Not toward the west palace, but back toward his own +north, and not the way he had come, but as the bird +flies, one eye on the watch on his palm, one on the +way he went, once swinging over a wall, once +swimming an oval of water, trampling flower-beds, +routing men, making one bound of stairs, while the +fowls of the air cried out their affright at his flight; +and now like whirlwind his fingers were scattering +among masses of trinkets and things in a certain +mahogany, he groaning in his soul; got what he +wanted; and now was gone again, going straight as +the bird goes, west and south, swinging, swimming, +bounding, and now at last was in the south-west house.</p> + +<p>Standing within a doorway under a dome, he heard +above-stairs the sound of the troop; and stealing in a +tick up sixty steps on the belly, his wet streaming on +the alabaster, he spied the troop, who, he saw with +spite, were just moving from one of his secret rooms, +proving treachery in Serapis. And on they went, +Monsieur Hugonnet and ten gallants in gaudy +garments with swords, walking with a swagger +between two white walls with lines of doorways in +them that seemed without any end, he hiding behind, +wriggling with eagerness as a tigress wriggles about +to spring, hearing now a sound as of the harp far off +(which, however, the gendarmes seemed not to hear), +and aware now where Miss Eve was. So the moment +that the commissaire, examining a plan in his hand,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</span> +went into a doorway with his men, Lepsius sped on +to slip ahead of them, but before he could get to the +door heard the sound of the searchers coming out again, +a glance having shown them that no one was in there: +and he had to shy into a side-corridor on the right. +And now on a sudden the sound of the strings of an +instrument struck to the ears of the seekers, too; they +looked alive; “Come on!” cried the commissaire, +and on they stepped. Now Lepsius sped ten-footed +to the right down the length of his side-corridor, +turned at its end down a second corridor, turned left +down a third, and in this last spurted through door-curtains +into a room, before ever the troop had +attained the bottom of their corridor—a room of +monstrous circumference, domed with moresque-work +in gold, and, though looking a ghost of marble, cool, +too, and balmy, its circle of rose-curtains being all +closed, embarring a grotto of umbrage within, which +was pregnant with fragrances of frankincense burning +in urns and cassolets. Two fountains wheeled about +its centre, between these in the wilderness of floor +being one flush of colour and odour of woman, +cushions, stuffs, rugs, for snugly grouped there lay +an oasis of ladies making music, Miss Eve seated in +their midst, cuddling a gazelle which lay chewing +the sugar of its cud with lids of indolence. All at +once she was up, tall! a weapon started out of her +breast, yes, and was brought down, and would have +been driven to her heart, if the feet of Lepsius had been +by one whisp less fleet, or his eye less wise. He had +her in his arms, the ataghan-dagger cast far, she +struggling against a handkerchief which he held on +her face, with stifled cries of “Let me go! Lepsius, +let me go!” He, however, clearly hearing now the +near-coming of the steps in the corridor, pressed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</span> +heavily, had her senseless, laid her down on the yatag +(ground-bed) where she had been sitting, and drew to +her chin a coverlet over her. At that moment the +troop stood at the door, and, had the music not ceased +on his entrance, Lepsius, however speedy-handed, +could not have succeeded; he had counted, however, +upon the music ceasing: and during the seconds that +the troop remained out there in a state of hesitation +as to which was the chamber of the music, his raging +hands had her face brown with some ulmin or umber-stain, +had his turban bound about her brows, her +mouth, cheeks, submerged beneath a snow of beard. +“Say ‘<i>sh-h-h</i>’ if one enters,” he whispered, “fan +her,” and he vanished.</p> + +<p>Some seconds later Monsieur Hugonnet and his +troop rapped, came in, inspected the group of Oriental +maids, the poet (lone male among women) with his +lute, the gazelle, and the old Ulema, Imam or Cadi +taking siesta on the yatag in his turban, softly fanned +by his girls. The gendarmes cast glances at the group +of girls—could hardly be got to move on; but presently +searched through the hall, and spent the rest of the +day in searching Serapis in vain.</p> + +<p>Nor did Monsieur Hugonnet go out as he came in. +In passing down a stair in the north palace, he and +several of his men slipped down it, three spraining +their legs; in one place he got an electric stroke; and +in his going out of Serapis a grate gave way under +him—a grate that had sustained all his men—nor was +it without difficulty that he was raised up, half-drowned +in filth, out of a drain.</p> + +<p>Thus ended the final attempt of the two Governments +to find the prisoner in Serapis. But no sooner +did the Governments begin to give up than her sister, +Miss Ruth, said, “<i>I</i> will find her”: and two days after<span class="pagenum" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</span> +that failure of the police, late in the evening, Lepsius +received a request to admit Miss Vickery, for no one +was admitted into Serapis unless permitted; and he +at once sent for her.</p> + +<p>“Alone?” said he, with his elbows laid on a table +to stare at her paled face upon which a lamp shone, +she seated with her luggage (a hand-bag) at her feet, +a pretty sprig in her hat, for she liked little fineries +and vanities, provided they were very cheap.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” she replied to him, “quite alone.”</p> + +<p>“You have come to see—Serapis?”</p> + +<p>“Why, what a question—for Eve!”</p> + +<p>“If I had Eve, do you imagine that I should give +her to you?”</p> + +<p>“I am even sure that you will, if I beg you.”</p> + +<p>“Beg me, and see.”</p> + +<p>“You admit, then, that you have her.... Tell +me whether she is well!”</p> + +<p>“No, she is not in Serapis. I fancy I know where +she might be traced, but she is not in Serapis.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, fie, you tell lies; why, I have seen her here.”</p> + +<p>“You?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, three afternoons ago, in a dream. I hardly +ever go to sleep in the day-time, but somehow that +afternoon about two sleep overpowered me, and Eve +lay before my feet. She lay asleep, and she was an +old man with a beard somehow, and yet she was Eve, +and a goat with its forelegs doubled underneath it +fed by her feet, and it was here in Serapis, I knew +very well, in a room with a dome over it.”</p> + +<p>Lepsius, staring at her, remained dumb.</p> + +<p>“So you see,” she remarked with an underlook, +“there are more kingdoms than you have visited.”</p> + +<p>“Myriads more,” he mumbled.</p> + +<p>Now all of a sudden she brought down her fist<span class="pagenum" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</span> +masterfully upon the table, bending forward. “Let +me take her back to her poor papa!” whereat he +laughed with a sort of wrath, crying, “<i>I!</i> I have her +for ever and ever!”</p> + +<p>“Have you married her, may I ask?”</p> + +<p>He, his gaze on the table, mumbled, “If I even +go near her, she raises a dagger to pierce her bosom.”</p> + +<p>“Good old Eve,” breathed Miss Ruth, staring in +surprise; but added immediately with veiled eyes, +to soothe the agonies which she guessed, “that is not +because she loves anyone less, but because she loves +God more.”</p> + +<p>“You are an unintelligible family,” he remarked +with half a shrug.</p> + +<p>“Oh, but well-meaning, I think, well-wishing,” +she said. “Anyway, if—since—she may not come +with me, I will stay with her.”</p> + +<p>“No; if you stay, you stay a captive; and, if I +allow you to, I thereby avow that Eve is here.”</p> + +<p>“No one will know but my papa, who promises +you, if you will let me be with her, never to tell anyone.”</p> + +<p>“So, then,” asked Lepsius, “you imagine me +sufficiently childish to rely upon your father’s +promise?”</p> + +<p>“You do not? Really? How curious! Well, <i>I</i> +undertake, then——”</p> + +<p>“Your undertaking is without weight. Moreover, +you once before broke a promise that you made me.”</p> + +<p>“When?”</p> + +<p>“At The Towers, as to betraying my presence to +Dr. Lepsius....”</p> + +<p>“Oh, but if one meant well! Look, now, into +one’s eyes....”</p> + +<p>She looked into his, and he into hers, which had<span class="pagenum" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</span> +water and all her heart in them—ten seconds, twenty, +thirty—until his dropped at her purity, with a murmur +of the word “sweet” on his lips.</p> + +<p>Then he said, “But you are all against me; you +would be speaking against me to Eve.”</p> + +<p>“Well, then, I will undertake never again to do +that.”</p> + +<p>“That is not enough; I say no, unless you will +undertake to woo her in my favour.”</p> + +<p>“Now, how can I? Is she not affianced to——?”</p> + +<p>“How laughable!” shouted Lepsius: “she shrieks +with laughter at the mere thought of such a farce! +De Courcy is a gnat, a limpet in a hag of peat-water! +And since you, meaning well, could break your +promise made to me, why may not Eve, meaning well, +break her promise made to this ape-man?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I,” Miss Ruth replied with her touch of +flippancy, “I’d crash through a promise like piecrust +any day, if I saw fit, for I think that a Christian +is set free from rules, and in the pure every crime is +pure. My sister, however, regards herself as more +bound by laws and modes, and as to departing from +a promise once given, it has always been her way, I +know, to regard that as rather a ghastly business. +But suppose that somehow the fact of her espousal +could be overcome, how can I ever possibly cry back +to your cause, knowing that you are not a Christian?”</p> + +<p>Lepsius smiled. “If that be all, regard the knot of +Gordium as cut: I become a Christian this night.”</p> + +<p>“How will you—‘this night’?”</p> + +<p>“Isn’t there something about being plunged into +holy water?”</p> + +<p>“To be plunged into holy water is hardly to be a +Christian, I think.”</p> + +<p>“What, then, is?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</span></p> + +<p>“To wish well to the world, I think; to live to +serve it; to stand piously alert to suffer and die for +it”—with down-turned lids she uttered this, and, as +he heard it, his brow twitched once; then bringing his +mouth down to the table, he mumbled, as it seemed, +to nobody, “A lady here to be led away west,” and +as a guard in gauds appeared, he remarked to Miss +Ruth, “You will hardly be able to persuade me that +you are a thinker, you know; but I am persuaded +that you are in some way the sweetest of sisters and +girls, and a prisoner whom Serapis will not readily +let go.”</p> + +<p>“Have I won, then? Am I about to see her?”—Miss +Ruth bounded upright—“oh, but you are pretty +good, after all, and I shall never, never forget you +whenever I lift my eyes to the hills of God.... How +is she? How far is it? May I go now?” ... +Lepsius was whispering to the guard, who soon afterwards +turned to Miss Ruth, and it was in quite a +gush of girlish flutter and flightiness of glee that +she went with her guide’s steps, inclined to prattle, +crying anon, “Why, Serapis is all like a white +metropolis swimming on water!”—for all the lights +of Serapis had by this time been lit, and beamed +star-wise far and near in myriads, as it seemed—white, +crimson, green—streaming on negro waters +that gleamed like steel, so that it all seemed of the +drama of some teeming dream. But when at last they +came to the west-end, it was only to be told that the +lady of the place was away on the west lake with her +playmates; and making their way to this with haste +and impatience through alleys and courts, an increasing +roar now sounding in their ears, the pair of +seekers stood on the lake’s shore and shouted. +During some moments, however, Miss Ruth screamed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</span> +“Eve!” without result, inasmuch as the gondola of +gold-moresque in which Miss Eve rowed was close +under the gross roar of a cataract that rolled with a +hoary angriness, Niagara-like, over crags near a hundred +feet deep at one end of the parallelogram of water +that made the lake—a lake surrounded with towering +house-walls and crags. But soon Miss Ruth was seen +from the boat, Miss Eve screamed, and before many +moments the sisters were breast to breast, uttering +breathless syllables, broken with kisses.</p> + +<p>“But—let one look at you!”—and when Miss Eve +exhibited herself, “Is this Eve?” the other asked, +for Miss Eve was in a garb all of flimsies of the Orient +as gaudy as rainbows—silk-muslins, gauzes—her ears +gross with ear-rings of coral-rock and gold, a kefie-cloth +draping her face, with her gazelle, her maids, +her boy-poet wearing his embroidered sandals and +strings of little pearls....</p> + +<p>“Well, this is Eve,” breathed Miss Ruth, musing +upon the other with her bambino eyes, a smile of +happiness chronic on her lips; “and whatever can that +be on your nails?”</p> + +<p>“Henna.”</p> + +<p>“Eve!”</p> + +<p>Miss Eve snapped her thumb and finger gaily up in +the air saying, “Oh, well, never say die, and in +Rome let’s row with the Romans; once I was queen +of the Greeks, hundreds of eras ago. Come, sweet, +to see the seraglio,” and thither they hurried.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV.<br> + + +<span class="sm">TO SHUNTER.</span></h2> +</div> + +<p>Lepsius, the Exhibition being now about to begin, +should have been in Paris, but was at Serapis: and +that was a true word of the gossip Nundcumar that +woman works a relaxation in the screw of greatness, +and taints its vein. Paris was strange; and the +weather there “treacherous,” as they say. Frequently +each day Lepsius was in communication +with Monsieur Fautras, his broker, and with Schuré, +his chief engineer. A rumour was abroad that the +last of the Moon Debenture Bills (asking the sanction +of the Chamber to the issue of yet new stock to the +tune of a milliard and a half) would hardly be carried, +because of another rumour that the moon-structure +itself was fated to failure: an event that must ruin very +many investors. So the croakers and screamers arose +and mouthed: the scheme, they screamed, was never +sound; down all at once one day from par to 97 fell +the stock; speeches breathing rage were everywhere +being made, in the streets, on ’Change, in the +Chamber; newspapers furious with froths of abuse—true +Paris-babies, created to live three days—saw the +light, cried, and died; pamphlets, pamphlets, flooded +the cafés; Lepsius, men said, had fled.</p> + +<p>During all which a kind of riot one afternoon (the +seventh of July) sprang up in Serapis itself. As the +old Nundcumar told it with a moving head to Miss +Ruth Vickery at the bedside of Healy that evening, +“Sir Lepsius was at the telephone when Captain +Bréhat broke into his presence with a face like +volcano-ashes mixed with fire-flashes, to bring him<span class="pagenum" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</span> +the message news and betidings that some two +hundred and fifty of the private troops had broken +loose, and had wrecked two of the barrack-rooms. +So Sir Lepsius finished his talk and chit-chat at the +telephone, and then, starting off with a malign light +in his eyes, though smiling ever his smile of the +smiles, caught up a weapon of queer and dark +appearances, and ran away to a square in the north-east, +where the crew of them stood—all picturesque +rascals of Spahis, mixed with Turcos, Mamalukes, +Zouaves, Uhlans, Don Cossacks, some of them on +horse-back, but most on foot in their half-dress, +all under arms, so that the heart, missie, paused under +the bosom-bone to see it through. Three-four of +them said ‘Bravo,’ on beholding Sir Lepsius come, +but the brows of the rest only scowled blackly at him, +and one big Spahi spurred out to him with his +grievance-list. Never a word breathed Sir Lepsius +from first to last, but as the grievance-list was going +to be presented, all at once he sprang like a flea of the +fleas to the ringleader’s horse-back—a great +Hungarian horse, all rings and piebalds—and he +began to stick the horse with his penknife like a pig, +here and there, till the creature in its raging, +plunging, prancing, and very arrogance of +arrogances dashed down the ringleader on the ground. +Then Sir Lepsius shot his gun-shot up in the clouds, +and down upon the crowd of them a shower of shot +dropped back broadcast and hard-hitting; at the same +moment he aimed the gun at them, drove the +Hungarian mare at a gallop round about, pressing +them, and on a sudden they were gone in a rout with +bowed backs, as a crowd rushes out of a shower +suddenly. Then he came again to the north palace, +and later in the afternoon got the news that all was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</span> +well, as the troops had resumed their duties. But +wait, wait, it is not done with yet——” He stopped, +Miss Ruth rising to wipe the lips of the dying man +in silence....</p> + +<p>But it was, in truth, not “done with”: for the +very next forenoon the troops anew broke into +mutiny, and Lepsius was told that one part of the +soldiers’ quarters was being burnt. He had already +observed the redness of it in the sky, spent twenty +seconds in dire reflecting, and then sped away, +intending this time to be terrible. It was a morning +of storm that spat dribble and brine, the strip of sea +seen from the higher parts of Serapis had an +appearance of wrath, a league to the east a brigantine +had been wrecked in the night, the sky was all grey +and hurried like a current, and all pools of water +darted darkling continuously under the swoops and +pursuits of the squalls. Lepsius was making +headway in the teeth of it eastward to the scene of +the <i>émeute</i>, when, to his amazement, a maid came +pelting to meet and present him a line scribbled on +the fly-leaf of a Bible, “Pray, sir, do not come to the +men. It will be well.—<span class="smcap">Ruth Vickery.</span>” Nevertheless, +he ran on; and presently, peering through a +wicket, saw Miss Ruth with the mutineers in a court, +moving to and fro before them, her hair blown loose +over an old cloak of faded blue that enfolded her, +flapping, on her head a forage-cap of the men, she +haranguing them loudly in French against the +sounding of the gale. Lepsius stood too far off to +know what was being said, but saw Miss Ruth +laughing anon, the troop laughing also, soon became +aware of a rumour of voices raving “Bravo!” then +of Miss Ruth pointing at the flame, as if enjoining +the troop to hasten to help in its suppression, then<span class="pagenum" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</span> +saw them press pell-mell through a gate and go, +taking her in the current of their haste.</p> + +<p>In truth, Miss Ruth was at present no more a +prisoner in Serapis, but roamed whithersoever she +chose in and out of it, visiting the Breton peasants +round about, the sick in Serapis, and corresponding +whenever she chose with her parent, to whom she +wrote that the angel of the Lord had broken the bars +of her prison. On the whole, she was so well known, +and with so much respect, to everyone in Serapis, that +it may have been beyond the wit of Lepsius, had +he willed it, to keep her strictly a prisoner. At any +rate, the <i>émeute</i> thus suppressed did not recur; and +Lepsius pondered this anon.</p> + +<p>Little enough time had he for pondering, however. +That forenoon of wet and wind the slump in moon-stock +continued from 97 to 95, and at nine that night +a crowd that had waited for hours outside the Palais-Bourbon +in the storm, unharnessed the horses from +Monsieur de Courcy’s brougham, and brought the +Minister home with hurrahs, because his thunder at +the Debenture Bill had resulted in its overthrow.</p> + +<p>“Thrice on the eighth,” writes Saïd Pasha in his +Notes, “I raced across to the Rue de la Chausée +d’Antin, on each occasion getting wetted to the skin, in +order to talk with Lepsius through Monsieur Schuré’s +private telephone. On each occasion I had to wait, +since others were before me. The first time I saw +Colonel Doumic, Monsieur Leflô and Cardinal Dampmartin +talking together, standing in a corner of the +drawing-room; and two hours later when I returned +they still stood in the same place, talking. The house, +in fact, was much frequented throughout the day, +people coming, lingering, going, and coming again; +but no sign of either host or hostess. The Abbé<span class="pagenum" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</span> +Sauriau, who for some time sat alone on a sofa with +his legs crossed, perusing with quite evident surprise +and delight an old book of his own—it was his +<i>Pindar</i>—told me that Monsieur Schuré ‘was supposed’ +to be at home, but abed, in a condition of +alcoholism; while as to Madame, Colonel Doumic, +who had a cold in the head, and trumpeted persistently +through the nose, told me that the lady was spending +three days with her sister at Meudon. To Monsieur +Favre, the Procurator-General, and to me the colonel +also made this remark, ‘My friends, let the politicians +do their worst, but what can un <i>tas de pékins</i> do to the +individual in question when the name of Lepsius still +raises a cheer in each company of <i>pioupious</i> through +France?’ I wished that I could share in his confidence, +but to me who knew the under-currents and +each secret wire which each of the puppets obeyed, it +appeared quite beyond the ingenuity of a Nestor and +a Richelieu in one to save the situation. ‘Nothing +has happened!’ exclaimed General Le Goffic, the +Prefect’s aide-de-camp, to me at Bignon’s near eight +in the evening, ‘and yet what a revolution in public +opinion within these two little weeks!’ ‘<i>Mon ami</i>,’ +added the old Orléaniste, who was a descendant of +the mulatto Ducs de Dornis, and still at seventy a +gallant figure, ‘the individual in question thought to +inaugurate an empire on the race-course at Longchamp, +as the Prince de Condé is said to have begun +the battle of Lérida to the cry-cry of a dozen violins: +but the fantastic soon ceases to amuse at a cost of three +milliards. As to “La Lune,” since the word means +also the part of the human person on which children +are spanked, it was always certain that this fact, by +itself, would doom the scheme to failure. At the +actual moment, what hope remains, monsieur? since<span class="pagenum" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</span> +we know that when Belleville, St. Antoine and +Ménilmontant have pricked the ear, <i>le plis est pris</i>, +and Heaven itself is helpless. In passing down the +Boulevard Majenta just now, I encountered a crowd +bounding south, to the Palais-Bourbon, no doubt, +singing “Conspuez Leps<i>ie</i>, conspuez Leps<i>ie</i>, +conspuez”—the grave sound on the last syllable of +“Leps<i>ie</i>”—a truly gross and terrible growl.’</p> + +<p>“Well, at half after eight a messenger hastened to +tell me that Isabeau Thiéry was about to mount the +tribune, and to the Palais-Bourbon Pierre Huré and +I set off in a fiacre, seeing on the way streams of +people who were speeding to join the crowd that +loitered round the House, without seeming to heed the +showers and the noise of the wind. Having reasons +of my own for not desiring to be seen within the +Chambre des Députés itself, I strolled in the Salle des +Pas Perdus, while Thiéry, ever the <i>enfant terrible</i> of +the Députés, rolled his periods in the interior. Among +us outside in the Pas Perdus the question was, ‘Is +Thiéry speaking for or in opposition to the Debenture +Bill?’ and managing to seize upon the old Major-General +Dauriac, one of the three Quæstors, who came +rushing in, I put to him the question. He shrugged +both his shoulders on high, giving me the reply, +‘Who knows, my friend? In the former half of his +oration Thiéry has denounced the Bill, but now is no +less loudly sounding its praises. <i>C’est un homme nul, +ce monsieur-là</i>’—and he hastened on his way.</p> + +<p>“I did not remain during the oration of Monsieur +de Courcy, who followed Isabeau Thiéry in the +tribune, but hurried back northward in order to have +direct speech with Lepsius himself. I now found the +<i>salon</i>, the stairs, the passages of Schuré’s house +actually crowded—I am unable to state why, since<span class="pagenum" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</span> +Schuré himself remained invisible—men of the +Bourse, newspaper-men, men-of-state, besides a number +of mere well-dressed <i>badauds</i> and <i>désœuvrés</i>. +Monsieur Fautras, the broker of Lepsius, was speaking +with General Figuier, the Military Governor of +Paris, and with Graf Bobertag of the German +Embassy, which last arrested me thirteen minutes with +conversation of a secret nature. To Lepsius I then +spoke of the tone of Paris up to the present, and was +surprised that, though I had come at full speed, he +already knew the gist of Thiéry’s speech. It was said, +indeed, that he had mysterious instruments by means +of which he could see and hear that which takes place +at a distance, though I myself have never seen any +such with him: at any rate, I now freely revealed my +fears, reading to him some headlines from the evening +papers, and even venturing to say that the air of +Paris was believed to be bearable even in September! +He took it coldly. But did he ever know his friends? +Was Lepsius ever capable of appreciating the nature +of friendship? Yet how he was loved by a few! and +how he was abhorred by all, even by the few who +loved him! ‘I knew,’ he replied to everything of +mine. ‘The Debenture Bill will undoubtedly now be +thrown out,’ I told him. ‘I knew,’ he answered, adding, +‘it is of no importance, if Schuré be kept staunch: +I rely upon you to keep him staunch.’ This +astonished me. ‘How can I?’ I asked. ‘Keep +close to Thiéry to-night and to-morrow,’ he replied, +‘influence him, and you will find out how I can repay.’ +‘Monsieur,’ was my answer, ‘I will do this +with much pleasure without the prospect of any such +discovery.’ ‘Many thanks,’ said he. ‘I have,’ I +then said, suddenly remembering it, ‘to deliver to +you this message from Mr. E. Reader Meade, that it<span class="pagenum" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</span> +might be most inadvisable at the actual moment to +try to tempt Thiéry in a monetary sense’—a suggestion +which (unless I was mistaken) had the effect of +strangely irritating Lepsius, for he made me the +amazing reply, ‘Monsieur, the oak is hardly the +highest form of life,’ and closed the interview.</p> + +<p>“I at once set out on the quest of Thiéry, wondering +within myself how it was that Lepsius was not that +night in Paris! Was it <i>because</i> of the very hardship +of combating the storm from the place in which he +happened to find himself that he decided to remain +in it? Some stiffness of neck? Some arrogance? +For he was arrogant. Nothing was greater than the +grossness of his arrogance, save the glory of his lowliness. +Seeing men, he felt himself a deity; but he +was saved from even the least taint or vein of vanity, +because his consciousness was so quick and large, +that no less nearly and clearly than he saw men he +saw stars, and felt himself a flea. At any rate, he +could never be induced to take the human race quite +<i>au sérieux</i>; he abided in his Brittany.</p> + +<p>“Thiéry I did not light upon until nigh on eleven in +the night, and then in the unexpected quarter of his +own tiny <i>apartment</i> in the Rue de Rome—a two-roomed +den, with a <i>cuisine</i> and a vestibule; and it +was necessary for me to sit waiting in the vestibule, +since the Abbé Sauriau was there in the <i>salon</i>, +engaged in talk which it was altogether impossible for +me to escape hearing, since nothing separated us save +an aged green drapery, which the gale, penetrating +between the beams, waved in my face. Thiéry was +going up and down wrapped in a greasy dressing-gown, +a fez on his head, the abbé being seated, +speaking ceaselessly; nor was it long before I knew that +it was a question of offering Thiéry the portfolio of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</span> +Justice as from Monsieur de Courcy, who that day +could have foreseen for himself nothing less than the +Chief Magistracy of France. Thiéry did not accept, +did not reject it. The abbé coaxed, quoted, fawned, +exhorted, flattered. ‘The destinies of France rest this +night on your shoulders’; ‘it is for you to-night, +my friend, in rocking the tocsin of enfranchisement, +to toll once and no more for ever the death-knell of +despots.’ ‘But the Army,’ said Thiéry, ‘the Army.’ +‘Can the Army rescue a ruined man?’ asked the +abbé; and he added, ‘Listen, my friend, you are +not a financier, but you know that the company +started with a capital of three milliards in 1,200,000 +shares of 2,500 francs each; you know, too, that +800,000 ordinary shares were offered at par to the +public at the first issue, as to which the individual in +question not only gave his guarantee to pay four per +cent. interest during construction, but to repay every +ordinary shareholder at par, if the venture should +prove a failure. And if it does!—as it is in your +power to make it! Could revenues so countless really +come out of any private fund and not leave it dry? +And how in the day of his failure may the Army avail +to save him from the wrath of France?’ But numbers +always dropped like water on a duck’s back upon the +skull of Isabeau Thiéry: and the breezes penetrating +beneath the door chilled my shins, and still he +remained in his indecision of mind. Finally he +undertook to deliver his reply as to the portfolio before +twelve the next day, and the Abbé Sauriau then went +away.</p> + +<p>“It was then my turn to convert the poet, and +certainly I worked with no little fervour, throwing off +reserve. I blessed with my hands upon its head the +bust of Cæsar on the mantel-piece; I spoke of the offer<span class="pagenum" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</span> +of the portfolio as a bribe, and as unpatriotic in spirit; +I said ‘as in 1814,’ and ‘the destinies of France’; +I spoke of the crowd of crowned heads then in Paris +to be present at the opening of the Exhibition, and +of their exultation to behold the overthrow of that +being who was the hope of France; and, sitting on +his table’s edge, his face glowed gallantly when in +glaring hues I sketched the glories of the future. +Lepsius, I saw, occupied a place in his heart. +Unfortunately, just as 12.45 struck, in came Monsieur +Josef, formerly a <i>mouchard</i> of the Rue de Jerusalem, +then a man who to Lepsius was ‘P.2.’ The moment +I beheld him I had a boding of trouble; and, certain +that the envelope that he delivered to Thiéry derived +from Lepsius, I kept my eyes fixed upon Thiéry while +he read. Thiéry at once turned quite worm-white; +one could observe how his fingers quivered; and, +getting down from the table, he began to move about +the room in an absent manner, with a bosom somewhat +breathless, and a visage at once flushed and blanched +in patches. I muttered to myself, ‘Lepsius must +have tempted him with some momentous money-offer.’ +He walked presently near to me, and with +his arms quivering and somewhat spread appealed +rather piteously to me with a ‘Mon ami!’ He then +began to walk about again; till now again he halted +to frown piercingly into the bust of Cæsar on the +mantel-piece; and now, beating his palm with his +finger, he breathed, ‘But no, but no, the Eagle does +not blink’; and all at once he was scarlet, cast up +his head, letting slip a little ‘Ha!’ and suddenly all +in a hurry and flurry, muttering to himself, ‘Stop, he +is going to see,’ he was gone away.</p> + +<p>“He very soon hurried in again from his bedroom, +dressed, drawing on a glove, begging me to forgive<span class="pagenum" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</span> +him, since he must necessarily go. I ventured to ask +him whither, and his answer, ‘Ah! to Meudon,’ +convinced me that all was lost....</p> + +<p>“When I flew to tell Lepsius of it, he during two +seconds or so stood mute, then very hurriedly said, +‘Thanks. I’ll look to it’....”</p> + +<p>What Lepsius did on learning of the disaster was +urgently to telephone a certain course of conduct to +an agent in Chantilly; he then at once summoned +to his presence the Due de Rey-Drouilhet, who during +two days had been staying at Serapis; and he took +two pilules out of a cabinet and put them in a pill-box.</p> + +<p>As soon as the duke came in he was struck +staggering a step or two against one of the pillars, +for the hall, all open to the four winds, was all vocal +and haunted with the storm, and half its area of +floor was as washed with rain-water as a ship’s quarterdeck. +Lepsius seated the old man near him in the +middle, and speaking as low as the sound of the winds +allowed, said, “I wish to pray you to set off for Paris +for me by my next special at 1.6; for if you wish to +prove useful to me, and at the same time to make +yourself affluent for life, this is your chance of +chances. I may tell you that Thiéry has just taken +train from Paris to Meudon to see his sister, Fanny +Schuré, with a design unfriendly to me. Well, he +will not see her to-night: for an agent of mine in +Chantilly, where Schuré is, is at this moment +telephoning her the false news that her husband is +dying, and either fifteen or four minutes before +Thiéry reaches Meudon she will have left it for +Chantilly; nor will he be able, I see, to follow her +thither to-night for want of a train. But to-morrow +he will see her, unless I prevent him; hence I ask +you to assist at his <i>premier déjeûner</i> in the morning,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</span> +and deftly to drop these two pilules into his coffee +or chocolate. You are his friend—— What is it?”</p> + +<p>He turned to a servant by his elbow who bore him +a leaf of ivory scribbled with these words: “Healy +can live only a few minutes more.—<span class="smcap">Ruth.</span>”</p> + +<p>Lepsius sprang up, pestered at this the third +missive of the kind received that day, he having been +too busy to pay any heed to them, though Healy was +at this time, by his orders, near him in the north +palace. He walked away to the columns, and cast +a look out: no stars out there, no vault of heaven, +only darksomeness mixed all with water and winds +wawling; and back he bolted to the duke, saying, +“Excuse me two minutes,” and hastened away.</p> + +<p>His own motive in going he hardly knew, since +that was hardly very rational that he should go: but +something that is in the breast brought him. +However, he did not enter, only stole nigh, and, +standing outside a door-hanging, listened, spied.</p> + +<p>The two windows looked toward the coast, and +though these were well closed, everything movable in +the room moved to a breeze that ever breathed through +it—the bed-curtains, the skirt of an Ursuline who +kneeled near the bottom of the bed, telling her beads, +the skirt of Miss Ruth who kneeled at the bed’s head, +reading, the beard of the old Nundcumar who sat +leaning forward on a sofa between these two.</p> + +<p>Miss Vickery held under her eyes on the bed’s +edge a Greek Bible from which with a poignancy and +grieving in her voice she was translating, the gale +battering anon great breaches in her speech in the +ear of Lepsius.</p> + +<p>“Nor be called masters ... but he that is greatest +among you will be your servant ... and he that +humbles himself is high.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</span></p> + +<p>The bed was low and small, in the north-west +corner of the chamber under a window—the window +which was opposite the door where Lepsius waited, +there being two doors in the length of the room +(which was longish and narrow), and two great +windows, under a groined roof; and though an +Arabian boy, crouching on a rug in the south-west +corner of the marble floor, made a fourth watcher in +the chamber, there was an air of loneness in there, an +odour of death. This little Arab, indeed, but +increased this feeling: for, though kneeling, he was +so doubled on himself, so stone-still, that he seemed +to be dead, and a greenish sheen gloating on his +cheek from the lamp-globe just above his head +increased his appearance of death.</p> + +<p>“And they came to a place named Gethsemane, +and he said to his disciples, ‘You wait here, while I +go to pray.’”</p> + +<p>The light of the only lamp was somehow a local +halo about itself, throwing the remainder of the room +in some obscurity, so that the clicks of the nun’s +rosary arose from shadows in which she was herself +no more than a shadow; nor could Healy be seen, +nothing but his toes sticking up beneath the clothes, +though anon that keen ear of Lepsius could hear his +throat croaking the death-ruckle, pouring it low, +hurried, like a purring rolling; and, still more pressed +with haste, rain-water outside struggling darkly down +spouts, with gulps and sobs and goblin sounds; and +again that poignancy and break in Miss Vickery’s +voice....</p> + +<p>“And he went a little onward, and dropped down +upon the ground, and prayed, saying, ‘Abba (papa), +take away this cup from me; still, not what I want, +papa, but what thou.’”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</span></p> + +<p>Loudly from across the sea came the sound of the +gale, flapping with the sound of a navy of argosies +going down in some archipelago of gloom, with all +their great sails whooping loose, and all their sailors +wailing.</p> + +<p>“And again he went away, and dropped down on +the ground, and prayed, saying, ‘If it be possible, +let this draught pass away from me; still, not what I +want, papa, but what thou.’”</p> + +<p>The hand of Lepsius tightened on the box that +held the two pilules designed for Isabeau Thiéry’s +breakfast; at the same time the death-ruckle on the +bed came on a sudden to an end; the happy saint +raised herself from the bedside with a smile and a +light in her eyes; and during some moments nobody +moved in the room, until now the crony Nundcumar +rose to move to the bed’s head, and, bowed over the +dead with a moving brow and body, crooning, he said, +“He is dead. But his head is not yet thoroughly +dead and done, and he lies reflecting dimly in himself, +thinking: ‘I am dead: no more to view the sight of +the sun, nor any light of the moon at night, nor all +the stars: for I am dead, and this is death; and what +I long saw falling upon others, and was long in awe +of for myself, is fallen at last this day upon me, me, +also: for I lie dead, and this is my day.’”</p> + +<p>As for Lepsius, he was gone; not so swiftly as he +had come.</p> + +<p>When he got back to the hall where the duke +awaited him, he halted two seconds betwixt two of the +columns, struck with hesitancy: until, suddenly +running, he muttered, “Forgive me for being +longer than I meant; and now, to catch the train, you +should be in haste”—he held out the pill-box.</p> + +<p>The old man was very tremulous; his hand that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</span> +rose to take the box hesitated midway. “I assume, +monsieur, that the dose is not—is innocuous....”</p> + +<p>Lepsius’ lip of disdain deigned no reply.</p> + +<p>“I know it, of course,” remarked the old fop +piteously in a flurry, “and asked only for form’s sake.... +On those terms I am entirely at your service.”</p> + +<p>“Rey-Drouilhet, be certain and deft,” said +Lepsius impressively; and within eight minutes +Rey-Drouilhet was on the way to the railway. +Before 7.40 the following morning he sat, in the Rue +de Rome, at Isabeau Thiéry’s bed’s head.</p> + +<p>He pretended that pressing Serapis-gossip had thus +brought him at the matin-gun; but he had hardly any +need to invent the gossip, since by this time Thiéry +could speak of nothing but Lepsius’ bribe.</p> + +<p>“My friend, what was the amount?” the duke +questioned with a screwed countenance.</p> + +<p>“It was two millions, monsieur.”</p> + +<p>“<i>De Dieu de Dieu!</i>... I who am no more a +youth would undoubtedly have refused it without +difficulty, but how could you, a young man?”</p> + +<p>“Ah, mon cher ami, noblesse oblige,” remarked +Isabeau Thiéry in an absent mutter.</p> + +<p>He was now about to get out of bed to get on his +clothes, when his <i>gouvernante</i> bore him in his coffee +and little loaf; and during the minutes that he took to +fling on his things, the coffee stood cooling on a +commode close to the duke. The flesh of the duke’s +face during this became very blanched and aged, his +manners nervous and fluttered; but, though he had +the two pills in his hand, and had many opportunities +of dropping them into the coffee during Thiéry’s dressing, +he did not. He now thought to himself, “No, +Thiéry must be out of the room,” and presently he +passed the remark that he had not breakfasted.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</span></p> + +<p>“My friend, pardon me!” cried out Thiéry, and +darted out half-dressed to order another cup of coffee.</p> + +<p>Now was the duke’s opportunity. Yet he did not +drop the pills into Thiéry’s coffee. He started! First +athwart the whirl of his thoughts flushed Isabeau +Thiéry’s words, “<i>noblesse oblige</i>,” the example of that +generous blood: and away he rushed, bent, from the +coffee; and then back to it he rushed, fleet and thievish, +to dash in the pills; and away from it afresh, without +having dashed them in. And now he was casting his +arms on high, his rickety eyes, distracted; and now +he was creeping on his knees, sneakingly, to drop the +two pills into a pot beneath the bed; and now he was +at Thiéry’s bread, sneakingly kneading two pills out +of the pith; and <i>these</i> he dropped into Thiéry’s +coffee....</p> + +<p>Later that forenoon he misquoted Shakespeare, +despatching to Lepsius, in English, the telegram, +“The deed is done.”</p> + +<p>Nor did Lepsius need the coming of this telegram +to be perfectly certain that the deed was done, though +he could scarcely still have been ignorant that very +many threads congregate to make the mental texture +of modern men. Anyway, till late in the day he was +securely acting upon the fact that the duke could not +fail; and then, suddenly, he knew—too late....</p> + +<p>The next night, the second of the Exhibition, was +the night on which men had been given to hope that +a strange glory would change the look of the skies: +but no such glory arose upon the eyes.</p> + +<p>And now more in number than the messengers of +Job crowded upon Lepsius the recorders of his downfall; +French laws and procedures were tortured in +order to reach him swiftly; during the midnight of the +ninth the offices of the moon in the Rue St. Honoré,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</span> +as well as the offices of several newspapers in his pay, +were wrecked; on the 11th the troops of the 67th, posted +to protect his palace in the Elysées, could not prevent +it from being sacked and burned; by the 13th he had +been accused, and had been convicted by the Sixth +Tribunal, of fermenting civil strife; by the 15th the +decree of his banishment from French land, posted +in every commune, had been gaped at as old and usual, +and glared from the gates of Serapis.</p> + +<p>Lepsius smiled, but bitterly. He was lying on his +belly on a bed of straw, reading the life of Jesus of +Nazareth in the book of Matthew when the news of +the destruction of the moon-offices reached him; and +at once, throwing away the book to run out with a +reddened brow, he said within himself, “I will blot +out this name of France.” During the rage and +deluge of the few days following, he yet more +hardened his heart. To Miss Ruth Vickery he refused +an interview, and to Miss Eve Vickery, who wrote +“I am sorry for you,” and entreated him to be meek, +to cease from scheming, and to bend his head before +the tempest, he condescended to send no answer.</p> + +<p>Indeed, he was now too busy to heed anything but +what he was now about to do. In his resentment he +had resolved to stretch out his arm in terror, of each +and all of his enemies to make a clean sweep in one +heap, and immediately to leap into a throne, some +months before he had previously proposed. Of the +Army, which regarded him as its hope of glory, he was +still certain; and on the morning of the 15th the first +of his thunderbolts bewildered the world, when from +his rostrum at the Bourse, Monsieur Fautras roundly +denounced the downfall of the moon-structure as due +to the schemings of paltry politicians, and to the +treachery of the engineer Schuré. He was authorised,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</span> +he said, by Monsieur Lepsius, to present as a loan +to the company a sum of a milliard and a half of +francs, not to be repaid till ordinary shares should be +earning a dividend of 8 per cent.; and, further, he was +authorised by Monsieur Lepsius, who was prepared +to finance the concern entirely from his private purse, +to purchase back, if desired, every ordinary share at +par from that morning; and, further, he had to say +that by midday of the 17th instant Monsieur Lepsius +proposed to be in Paris....</p> + +<p>Never did Lepsius loom so hugely upon the +universal world, luminous as some angel of the welkin, +as that afternoon, France, for her part, casting upon +her head the ashes of contrition. As for the foes of +Lepsius, they saw only instant loss of place and power, +only ruin, degradation, disgrace, knowing that now +the decree of banishment against him was nothing +but a dead letter. Hence the Count de Courcy took +a hurried trip down into Brittany that day, and contrived +to talk a little with the prattler Nundcumar +outside the walls of Serapis....</p> + +<p>At five on the morning of the 17th all was in order +for the departure for Paris, and Lepsius, not having +slept through the night, went to lie a little in his +bath, his big dog, Argo, and the old Nundcumar, +going also with him. As he locked the door, he +noticed that the dog, going up to a coffer of cedarwood, +in which it was usual to keep towels, etc., +sniffed at it; the dog, however, did not growl, and, +as his head was now crowded with cares, he gave it +no heed. It was an apartment of marble with a row +of round windows in one wall up near the ceiling, +and in the centre of it a sort of well or cistern, with +a tower of marble about it as light and beautiful as a +flower, whose whiteness bloomed again down in the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</span> +water’s gloom, and it had a bell in it; otherwise the +apartment was without any ornament, except for the +coffer in one corner, and the bath in the corner +opposite, this being a mass of augite and gold, so +big that one might swim a little, with lumps of ice +floating in the water that almost filled it. Lepsius’ +pieces of raiment dropped from him, he was in immediately, +dived, and remained under a long while. +Argo, the dog, was walking uneasily to and fro, but +if one had looked narrowly at him, the dog might +have been seen to be not quite himself, to be drunk or +drugged. Nundcumar, for his part, stood by the side +of the bath, his knees weak beneath him, but with +no sign of this to be seen in his lean looks; and the +air in there seemed to wait for somewhat, and to +wait, a dusk air, for though it was now fully day outside, +in there the light was scarce.</p> + +<p>At the moment when Lepsius went under the water +for the second time, Nundcumar, suddenly grabbing +the dog by the collar, coughed twice: and the next +moment the dog broke roaring from his grasp to drag +down a woman who rose out of the coffer and flew +through the room.... Lepsius, hearing the row, +reared up his head, and even as the woman went down +under the hound, received vitriol about his brows....</p> + +<p>He at once dived....</p> + +<p>Later in the day he discovered that one of his +sandals, in a chamber of which he kept a little key, +was missing. It was the Abbé Sauriau who told him +so, kneeling over Lepsius on his bed of straw, as the +gloaming began to grow deep. “It is intended that +your hoards shall be distributed among charitable institutions,” +the abbé said; and he cried accusingly, +his body convulsed with sobs, “Lepsius, you are +blind! and it is I who have been the cause of this.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</span></p> + +<p>Lepsius lay with a band covering his eyes, his limbs +cast all asprawl at random, tossing for ease; and +presently he bleated, “I am blind!”</p> + +<p>And now Isabeau Thiéry, waiting for hours at the +far end of the chamber, dashed both his palms to his +ears to shut out the sound of that bleat, which each +three minutes was repeated, and rushed with the stare +of a maniac away.</p> + +<p>Lepsius could get no rest, for though the ravage +of the vitriol (thanks to the rush of the dog and to +the bath-water) was local about the brows, and he was +hardly at all disfigured in his face, yet the agony was +great, and the heat of the atmosphere every moment +growing greater, since a reign of licence and riot had +kept carnival during all the afternoon, and at several +places Serapis was flaring.</p> + +<p>“You must not stay here much longer,” blubbed +the Abbé Sauriau, with two big tears streaming on +his cheeks.... “I have a little cottage in Chantilly, +and thither you will come to abide until my death by +my side. You are poor, you are many millions in +debt, you are utterly destitute, naught can be more +utter, more boundless, than your downfall. So you +will come, my friend, to my breast, and in the cottage +we shall be, we two, dwelling in a shaded leisure and +seclusion of literature, for I shall be reading my books +to you, and you will be dictating books to me, which +I shall write for you.”</p> + +<p>“I am blind!” bleated the blind boy to his +obscurity, neither heeding nor hearing him.</p> + +<p>It was at this point that the blind boy’s father +arrived after a voyage from London; and, lying +on the straws, the old man rubbed his cheek +on his son’s cheek silently, a sob in his throat +keeping him from speaking; whereat the Abbé Sauriau<span class="pagenum" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</span> +and some others who were there stole away; and +presently, when he had wept plenteously, Dr. Lepsius +said to his son, who kept shrinking from his touch, +“You have yet your yacht at anchor yonder in the +bay; let’s cut back to Shunter! you and me; only no +Shan any more, no Shan: back out of the dirty world, +to listen to the waups whistling, what? Don’t you +remember the old castle? And the old coble-boat +on the north coast? And the long, low old shed, +centuries old, all encrusted with peat-smoke, which we +could see from the east castle-turret far off in the +heugh of the crags? And all the gulls, and the bog, +and the hags of water with the buckies in ’em, can’t +you recall it all, and the sea? Say that you are +coming....”</p> + +<p>“I shall never run again!” complained Lepsius to +his gloom.</p> + +<p>“You may! You do not know yet! God may will +to give you back your eyes, or one of them! But say +that you will come this night with me.”</p> + +<p>“Are you not still against me?” asked Lepsius in +pain.</p> + +<p>“What, against my own? Was I ever really +against <i>you</i>, do you dream? Oh, fie, hard heart, to +let yourself utter those words!”</p> + +<p>Lepsius now turned a little to put his arm about the +old man’s shoulder, and water washed with a whey +of blood wound all down one side of his nose, while +the old man moaned.</p> + +<p>“So, then,” the old man said, “you will come, +for I feel that it will do you good, and I’ll go at once +to see to it.”</p> + +<p>He stood up; and he had scarcely gone away when +with eager feet Miss Eve Vickery came in, and fifteen +feet from Lepsius stood looking at him, her father<span class="pagenum" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</span> +halting far off near the pillars, his eyes all alight with +excitement. Having come for his daughters, he had +ordered them both into a brougham, and they had +started to roll away in it through the ruelles and courts +of Serapis, lurid at this time with conflagrations +glaring in the gloomy night, where groups of distinguished +men from Paris and elsewhere stood to +watch the flames and fumes, and, like devils in fire, +troops of luxurious rioters roved with uproars to and +fro. But when about to pass out of this scene, Miss +Eve had seen a wing of the north palace in passing +near it, and had leapt up. Nor could anything stay +her. “I will see him once,” she had said over her +shoulder: whereon her father, ordering his other +daughter to remain where she was, had followed Miss +Eve’s speeding feet; and Miss Eve came, and stood, +and looked at Lepsius.</p> + +<p>“Eve, I am blind!” bleated Lepsius aloud, +perhaps having caught and known the sound of her +walk, or probably invoking her without any knowledge +that she was present; and what pen of poet or +seer of the soul can disclose the olio of her whole +emotion then, sketching with what fiendishness of +hell-spite her whitened lip touched her lower teeth, as +she flung at him, “You should have been good!” +and then again how the bowels of her woman’s ruth +moved and rued, beholding him so low, when he rose +on his elbow, but tumbled back, calling, “Eve! you +are here!”</p> + +<p>“Lepsius, I am going for good from you!”</p> + +<p>“Eve, do not leave me!”</p> + +<p>“Eve!” her father now called out in a sort of +whisper.</p> + +<p>She crammed her mouth with her handkerchief to +bite on, and letting fall her arm behind her toward<span class="pagenum" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</span> +the bed of straws, wafting it a good-bye, tried to get +away toward her father, but half-way gave up, +smiling, her knees going feeble beneath her, and +lapsed, seated, upon the floor; whereat Mr. Vickery +came, raised, and carried her away to their carriage.</p> + +<p>The carriage then went on its way toward the +station two miles distant through a dark night +unlighted by one star in the sky, with wild winds +blowing. But they had not advanced half a mile +when the driver suddenly halted, having noticed lying +right athwart the road a woman whom, but for the +light radiating from the blazing of Serapis, he must +have driven over. Mr. Vickery, getting out, gave a +hand to raising her up: and now, to his consternation, +she turned out to be his old servant, Jeanne Auvache. +The woman, her life-work now performed, was now all +maudlin, and desired to die—hence had thrown herself +on the road. She instantly dashed into chattering +(against the grain of her hearers) as to the various +phases of the day, on her face a rain of tears, Miss +Ruth and her father induced to hear, Miss Eve, for +her part, reclining in swoon with her lips parted like +the dying, not appearing to hear. One piece of the +chatter, however, appeared to pierce to her consciousness; +and now her eyes unclosed, she sat up. It was +when Jeanne Auvache was recounting how she had +been arrested at St. Brieuc, and how at about 3 p.m. +she had been brought back to Serapis in order to be +presented to, and identified by, Lepsius, the officers +not then knowing that Lepsius was entirely sightless. +“He is good, he is very good,” the hag groaned, +“so that I regret at the actual moment to have done +it, and have a desire to die. He lay there on his bed +of straws, all solitary, calling to nobody ‘I am blind’; +and when the two officers asked him if he was able to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</span> +say whether I was the woman, he answered them, +‘Let her say something’; so I said, ‘Monsieur +Lepsius!’ and I said again, ‘Monsieur Lepsius!’ and +he gave no answer to the two men for some time, but +lay still, frowning, passing his palm over his brow +and his bandage; and he then said gently, ‘No, it +was not she; it was not a woman who did it,’ and +then——”</p> + +<p>Now, however, a crazy stare was gazing out of the +carriage window, Miss Eve leaning out, saying, +“Do you say, woman, that he forgave you? Oh, tell +me the God’s truth!”</p> + +<p>“Why, yes, since you see me here——” the hag +began to say: but now Miss Eve was gone.</p> + +<p>“Eve!” howled her father after her, “remember +your vow to——?”</p> + +<p>Miss Eve threw her hand backward without looking +round, and went fluttering on her way, her frocks +quarrelling with the winds; nor was it possible to +pursue her with the brougham, since she took a shortcut +path through a meadow; and though her father +and Miss Ruth ran after her, calling, her youth and +long legs soon got them pretty far behind, she +slipping back to Serapis like a spring which, pressed +the wrong way, is of a sudden sprung free. In some +fifteen minutes she lay on her love’s bed, shuddering +on his breast, her teeth chattering feverishly into his +ear “for ever,” and anew “for ever.”</p> + +<p>“Eve, you are here!” he called to her in that voice +of the blind which has lost its way like a lambkin +bleating in the void of the night; and she in the fever +of her joy said to him, “Here, you can feel it, the +half coin: where should I be but in you, but interned +in your heart, my eternal? I who eternities since +yearned at the altar with you.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</span></p> + +<p>But now Dr. Lepsius walked actively in to announce +that everything was ready as to the vessel; and about +half an hour after this, a small crowd consisting of +Dr. Lepsius, Lepsius, Miss Eve, Miss Ruth, Mr. +Vickery, a Dr. Proudhomme of Serapis, the Abbé +Sauriau, Isabeau Thiéry, Saïd Pasha, and Mr. E. +Reader Meade, paced to the quay of the little bay +named Petit Bazaine. Yonder on the sea the yacht’s +three lights glared tiny in a darkness made rather +Tartarian by the conflagration of Serapis, the glows +from which, glaring on the slopes of the billows’ +blackness in dabblements, gave to the bay the goriness +of Aceldama. A boat lay at the end of the quay; but +as the sea was very rough, and trouble was looked for +in embarking Lepsius, all the party went forward to +see the boat, leaving him seated alone on a block of +stone. The boatmen, who lay on their oars, called +that they would wait for a calmer moment; so it was +some minutes ere Miss Eve ran back to bring Lepsius, +and then to her amazement, met him on his knees—the +roar of the breakers and of the gale in his ears, +the sprays raining on his face, or his engrossment, +may be, in his prayer, preventing him from hearing +her approach. She with an uplifted hand, stood +hushed a little, listening, catching some words, the +bursting of his sobs.... “Who hearest, but dost +not heed, the bleatings of brutes ... yet if just +one human wish for once may move thee +... let no speck of grit ever prick her eyes +to agonise her; oh, I was sick and she visited me +pelt her; I am reft, despoiled, and she makes +choice of me ... chase, infest her every hour with +fresh showers and astonishments of joy——”</p> + +<p>She touched him, saying, “Come.”</p> + +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77484 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/77484-h/images/cover.jpg b/77484-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..0c0184c --- /dev/null +++ b/77484-h/images/cover.jpg diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6c72794 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This book, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..96d66f5 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for eBook #77484 +(https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/77484) |
