lucile-第8节
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y had fail'd His command： often baffled； he ever prevail'd； In his combat with fate： to…day flatter'd and fed By monarchs； to…morrow in search of mere bread The offspring of times trouble…haunted； he came Of a family ruin'd； yet noble in name。 He lost sight of his fortune； at twenty； in France； And； half statesman； half soldier； and wholly Freelance； Had wander'd in search of it； over the world Into India。
But scarce had the nomad unfurl'd His wandering tent at Mysore； in the smile Of a Rajah （whose court he controll'd for a while； And whose council he prompted and govern'd by stealth）； Scarce； indeed； had he wedded an Indian of wealth； Who died giving birth to this daughter； before He was borne to the tomb of his wife at Mysore。 His fortune； which fell to his orphan； perchance Had secured her a home with his sister in France； A lone woman； the last of the race left。 Lucile Neither felt； nor affected； the wish to conceal The half…Eastern blood； which appear'd to bequeath （Reveal'd now and then； though but rarely； beneath That outward repose that concealed it in her） A something half wild to her strange character。 The nurse with the orphan； awhile broken…hearted； At the door of a convent in Paris had parted。 But later； once more； with her mistress she tarried； When the girl； by that grim maiden aunt； had been married To a dreary old Count； who had sullenly died； With no claim on her tearsshe had wept as a bride。 Said Lord Alfred； 〃Your mistress expects me。〃
The crone Oped the drawing…room door； and there left him alone。
V。
O'er the soft atmosphere of this temple of grace Rested silence and perfume。 No sound reach'd the place。 In the white curtains waver'd the delicate shade Of the heaving acacias； through which the breeze play'd。 O'er the smooth wooden floor； polished dark as a glass； Fragrant white Indian matting allowed you to pass。 In light olive baskets； by window and door； Some hung from the ceiling； some crowding the floor； Rich wild flowers pluck'd by Lucile from the hill； Seem'd the room with their passionate presence to fill： Blue aconite； hid in white roses； reposed； The deep belladonna its vermeil disclosed； And the frail saponaire； and the tender blue…bell； And the purple valerian；each child of the fell And the solitude flourish'd； fed fair from the source Of waters the huntsman scarce heeds in his course Where the chamois and izard； with delicate hoof； Pause or flit through the pinnacled silence aloof。
VI。
Here you felt； by the sense of its beauty reposed； That you stood in a shrine of sweet thoughts。 Half unclosed In the light slept the flowers； all was pure and at rest； All peaceful； all modest； all seem'd self…possess'd； And aware of the silence。 No vestige nor trace Of a young woman's coquetry troubled the place。 He stood by the window。 A cloud pass'd the sun。 A light breeze uplifted the leaves； one by one。 Just then Lucile enter'd the room； undiscern'd By Lord Alfred； whose face to the window was turned； In a strange revery。 The time was； when Lucile； In beholding that man； could not help but reveal The rapture； the fear； which wrench'd out every nerve In the heart of the girl from the woman's reserve。 And nowshe gazed at him； calm； smiling；perchance Indifferent。
VII。
Indifferently turning his glance； Alfred Vargrave encounter'd that gaze unaware。 O'er a bodice snow…white stream'd her soft dusky hair： A rose…bud half blown in her hand； in her eyes A half…pensive smile。
A sharp cry of surprise Escaped from his lips： some unknown agitation。 An invincible trouble； a strange palpitation； Confused his ingenious and frivolous wit； Overtook； and entangled； and paralyzed it。 That wit so complacent and docile； that ever Lightly came at the call of the lightest endeavor； Ready coin'd； and availably current as gold； Which； secure of its value； so fluently roll'd In free circulation from hand on to hand For the usage of all； at a moment's command； For once it rebell'd； it was mute and unstirr'd； And he looked at Lucile without speaking a word。
VIII。
Perhaps what so troubled him was； that the face On whose features he gazed had no more than a trace Of the face his remembrance had imaged for years。 Yes！ the face he remember'd was faded with tears： Grief had famish'd the figure； and dimmed the dark eyes； And starved the pale lips； too acquainted with sighs； And that tender； and gracious； and fond coquetterie Of a woman who knows her least ribbon to be Something dear to the lips that so warmly caress Every sacred detail of her exquisite dress； In the careless toilet of Lucilethen too sad To care aught to her changeable beauty to add Lord Alfred had never admired before！ Alas！ poor Lucile； in those weak days of yore； Had neglected herself； never heeding； or thinking （While the blossom and bloom of her beauty were shrinking） That sorrow can beautify only the heart Not the faceof a woman； and can but impart Its endearment to one that has suffer'd。 In truth Grief hath beauty for grief； but gay youth loves gay youth。
IX。
The woman that now met； unshrinking his gaze； Seem'd to bask in the silent but sumptuous haze Of that soft second summer； more ripe than the first； Which returns when the bud to the blossom hath burst In despite of the stormiest April。 Lucile Had acquired that matchless unconscious appeal To the homage which none but a churl would withhold That caressing and exquisite gracenever bold； Ever presentwhich just a few women possess。 From a healthful repose； undisturb'd by the stress Of unquiet emotions； her soft cheek had drawn A freshness as pure as the twilight of dawn。 Her figure； though slight； had revived everywhere The luxurious proportions of youth； and her hair Once shorn as an offering to passionate love Now floated or rested redundant above Her airy pure forehead and throat； gather'd loose Under which； by one violet knot； the profuse Milk…white folds of a cool modest garment reposed； Rippled faint by the breast they half hid； half disclosed； And her simple attire thus in all things reveal'd The fine art which so artfully all things conceal'd。
X。
Lord Alfred； who never conceived that Lucile Could have look'd so enchanting； felt tempted to kneel At her feet； and her pardon with passion implore； But the calm smile that met him sufficed to restore The pride and the bitterness needed to meet The occasion with dignity due and discreet。
XI。
〃Madam；〃thus he began with a voice reassured； 〃You see that your latest command has secured My immediate obediencepresuming I may Consider my freedom restored from this day。〃 〃I had thought；〃 said Lucile； with a smile gay yet sad； 〃That your freedom from me not a fetter has had。 Indeed！ 。 。 。 in my chains have you rested till now？ I had not so flattered myself； I avow！〃 〃For Heaven's sake； Madam；〃 Lord Alfred replied； 〃Do not jest！ has the moment no sadness？〃 he sigh'd。 〃'Tis an ancient tradition；〃 she answer'd； 〃a tale Often tolda position too sure to prevail In the end of all legends of love。 If we wrote； When we first love； foreseeing that hour yet remote； Wherein of necessity each would recall From the other the poor foolish records of all Those emotions； whose pain； when recorded； seem'd bliss； Should we write as we wrote？ But one thinks not of this！ At Twenty （who does not at Twenty？） we write Believing eternal the frail vows we plight； And we smile with a confident pity； above The vulgar results of all poor human love： For we deem； with that vanity common to youth； Because what we feel in our bosoms； in truth； Is novel to usthat 'tis novel to earth； And will prove the exception； in durance and worth； To the great law to which all on earth must incline。 The error was noble； the vanity fine！ Shall we blame it because we survive it？ ah； no； 'Twas the youth of our youth； my lord； is it not so？〃
XII。
Lord Alfred was mute。 He remember'd her yet A childthe weak sport of each moment's regret； Blindly yielding herself to the errors of life； The deceptions of youth； and borne down by the strife And the tumult of passion； the tremulous toy Of each transient emotion of grief or of joy。 But to watch her pronounce the death…warrant of all The illusions of lifelift； unflinching； the pall From the bier of the dead Pastthat woman so fair； And so young； yet her own self…survivor； who there Traced her life's epitaph with a finger so cold！ 'Twas a picture that pain'd his self…love to behold。 He himself knewnone betterthe things to be said Upon subjects like this。 Yet he bow'd down his head： And as thus； with a trouble he could not command； He paused； crumpling the letters he held in his hand； 〃You know me enough；〃 she continued； 〃or what I would say is； you yet recollect （do you not； Lord Alfred？） enough of my nature； to know That these pledges of what was perhaps long ago A foolish affection； I do not recall From those motives of prudence which actuate all Or most women when their love ceases。 Indeed； If you have such a doubt； to dispel it I need But remind you that ten years these letters have rested Unreclaim'd in your hands。〃 A reproach seem'd suggested By these words。 To meet it； Lord A
