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of　conformity　with　the　established　order　of　his　kind　and　make　him　a



creature　of　obscure　suggestions。







Henceforth；　without　ever　trying　to　resist；　he　went　every　afternoon



to　the　house　where　she　lived。　　He　went　there　as　passively　as　if　in



a　dream。　　He　could　never　make　out　how　he　had　attained　the　footing



of　intimacy　in　the　Dunster　mansion　above　the　bay　…　whether　on　the



ground　of　personal　merit　or　as　the　pioneer　of　the　vegetable　silk



industry。　　It　must　have　been　the　last；　because　he　remembered



distinctly；　as　distinctly　as　in　a　dream；　hearing　old　Dunster　once



telling　him　that　his　next　public　task　would　be　a　careful　survey　of



the　Northern　Districts　to　discover　tracts　suitable　for　the



cultivation　of　the　silk　plant。　　The　old　man　wagged　his　beard　at　him



sagely。　　It　was　indeed　as　absurd　as　a　dream。







Willie　of　course　would　be　there　in　the　evening。　　But　he　was　more　of



a　figure　out　of　a　nightmare；　hovering　about　the　circle　of　chairs　in



his　dress…clothes　like　a　gigantic；　repulsive；　and　sentimental　bat。



〃Do　away　with　the　beastly　cocoons　all　over　the　world；〃　he　buzzed　in



his　blurred；　water…logged　voice。　　He　affected　a　great　horror　of



insects　of　all　kinds。　　One　evening　he　appeared　with　a　red　flower　in



his　button…hole。　　Nothing　could　have　been　more　disgustingly



fantastic。　　And　he　would　also　say　to　Renouard：　　〃You　may　yet　change



the　history　of　our　country。　　For　economic　conditions　do　shape　the



history　of　nations。　　Eh？　　What？〃　　And　he　would　turn　to　Miss　Moorsom



for　approval；　lowering　protectingly　his　spatulous　nose　and　looking



up　with　feeling　from　under　his　absurd　eyebrows；　which　grew　thin；　in



the　manner　of　canebrakes；　out　of　his　spongy　skin。　　For　this　large；



bilious　creature　was　an　economist　and　a　sentimentalist；　facile　to



tears；　and　a　member　of　the　Cobden　Club。







In　order　to　see　as　little　of　him　as　possible　Renouard　began　coming



earlier　so　as　to　get　away　before　his　arrival；　without　curtailing



too　much　the　hours　of　secret　contemplation　for　which　he　lived。　　He



had　given　up　trying　to　deceive　himself。　　His　resignation　was



without　bounds。　　He　accepted　the　immense　misfortune　of　being　in



love　with　a　woman　who　was　in　search　of　another　man　only　to　throw



herself　into　his　arms。　　With　such　desperate　precision　he　defined　in



his　thoughts　the　situation；　the　consciousness　of　which　traversed



like　a　sharp　arrow　the　sudden　silences　of　general　conversation。



The　only　thought　before　which　he　quailed　was　the　thought　that　this



could　not　last；　that　it　must　come　to　an　end。　　He　feared　it



instinctively　as　a　sick　man　may　fear　death。　　For　it　seemed　to　him



that　it　must　be　the　death　of　him　followed　by　a　lightless；



bottomless　pit。　　But　his　resignation　was　not　spared　the　torments　of



jealousy：　　the　cruel；　insensate；　poignant；　and　imbecile　jealousy；



when　it　seems　that　a　woman　betrays　us　simply　by　this　that　she



exists；　that　she　breathes　…　and　when　the　deep　movements　of　her



nerves　or　her　soul　become　a　matter　of　distracting　suspicion；　of



killing　doubt；　of　mortal　anxiety。







In　the　peculiar　condition　of　their　sojourn　Miss　Moorsom　went　out



very　little。　　She　accepted　this　seclusion　at　the　Dunsters'　mansion



as　in　a　hermitage；　and　lived　there；　watched　over　by　a　group　of　old



people；　with　the　lofty　endurance　of　a　condescending　and　strong…



headed　goddess。　　It　was　impossible　to　say　if　she　suffered　from



anything　in　the　world；　and　whether　this　was　the　insensibility　of　a



great　passion　concentrated　on　itself；　or　a　perfect　restraint　of



manner；　or　the　indifference　of　superiority　so　complete　as　to　be



sufficient　to　itself。　　But　it　was　visible　to　Renouard　that　she　took



some　pleasure　in　talking　to　him　at　times。　　Was　it　because　he　was



the　only　person　near　her　age？　　Was　this；　then；　the　secret　of　his



admission　to　the　circle？







He　admired　her　voice　as　well　poised　as　her　movements；　as　her



attitudes。　　He　himself　had　always　been　a　man　of　tranquil　tones。



But　the　power　of　fascination　had　torn　him　out　of　his　very　nature　so



completely　that　to　preserve　his　habitual　calmness　from　going　to



pieces　had　become　a　terrible　effort。







He　used　to　go　from　her　on　board　the　schooner　exhausted；　broken；



shaken　up；　as　though　he　had　been　put　to　the　most　exquisite　torture。



When　he　saw　her　approaching　he　always　had　a　moment　of



hallucination。　　She　was　a　misty　and　fair　creature；　fitted　for



invisible　music；　for　the　shadows　of　love；　for　the　murmurs　of



waters。　　After　a　time　（he　could　not　be　always　staring　at　the



ground）　he　would　summon　up　all　his　resolution　and　look　at　her。



There　was　a　sparkle　in　the　clear　obscurity　of　her　eyes；　and　when



she　turned　them　on　him　they　seemed　to　give　a　new　meaning　to　life。



He　would　say　to　himself　that　another　man　would　have　found　long



before　the　happy　release　of　madness；　his　wits　burnt　to　cinders　in



that　radiance。　　But　no　such　luck　for　him。　　His　wits　had　come



unscathed　through　the　furnaces　of　hot　suns；　of　blazing　deserts；　of



flaming　angers　against　the　weaknesses　of　men　and　the　obstinate



cruelties　of　hostile　nature。







Being　sane　he　had　to　be　constantly　on　his　guard　against　falling



into　adoring　silences　or　breaking　out　into　wild　speeches。　　He　had



to　keep　watch　on　his　eyes；　his　limbs；　on　the　muscles　of　his　face。



Their　conversations　were　such　as　they　could　be　between　these　two



people：　　she　a　young　lady　fresh　from　the　thick　twilight　of　four



million　people　and　the　artificiality　of　several　London　seasons；　he



the　man　of　definite　conquering　tasks；　the　familiar　of　wide



horizons；　and　in　his　very　repose　holding　aloof　from　these



agglomerations　of　units　in　which　one　loses　one's　importance　even　to



oneself。　　They　had　no　common　conversational　small　change。　　They　had



to　use　the　great　pieces　of　general　ideas；　but　they　exchanged　them



trivially。　　It　was　no　serious　commerce。　　Perhaps　she　had　not　much



of　that　coin。　　Nothing　significant　came　from　her。　　It　could　not　be



said　that　she　had　received　from　the　contacts　of　the　external　world



impressions　of　a　personal　kind；　different　from　other　women。　　What



was　ravishing　in　her　was　her　quietness　and；　in　her　grave　attitudes；



the　unfailing　brilliance　of　her　femininity。　　He　did　not　know　what



there　was　under　that　ivory　forehead　so　splendidly　shaped；　so



gloriously　crowned。　　He　could　not　tell　what　were　her　thoughts；　her



feelings。　　Her　replies　were　reflective；　always　preceded　by　a　short



silence；　while　he　hung　on　her　lips　anxiously。　　He　felt　himself　in



the　presence　of　a　mysterious　being　in　whom　spoke　an　unknown　voice；



like　the　voice　of　oracles；　bringing　everlasting　unrest　to　the



heart。







He　was　thankful　enough　to　sit　in　silence　with　secretly　clenched



teeth；　devoured　by　jealousy　…　and　nobody　could　have　guessed　that



his　quiet　deferential　bearing　to　all　these　grey…heads　was　the



supreme　effort　of　stoicism；　that　the　man　was　engaged　in　keeping　a



sinister　watch　on　his　tortures　lest　his　strength　should　fail　him。



As　before；　when　grappling　with　other　forces　of　nature；　he　could



find　in　himself　all　sorts　of　courage　except　the　courage　to　run



away。







It　was　perhaps　from　the　lack　of　subjects　they　could　have　in　common



that　Miss　Moorsom　made　him　so　often　speak　of　his　own　life。　　He　did



not　shrink　from　talking　about　himself；　for　he　was　free　from　that



exacerbated；　timid　vanity　which　seals　so　many　vain…glorious　lips。



He　talked　to　her　in　his　restrained　voice；　gazing　at　the　tip　of　her



shoe；　and　thinking　that　the　time　was　bound　to　come　soon　when　her



very　inattention　would　get　weary　of　him。　　And　indeed　on　stealing　a



glance　he　would　see　her　dazzling　and　perfect；　her　eyes　vague；



staring　in　mournful　immobility；　with　a　drooping　head　that　made　him



think　of　a　tragic　Venus　arising　before　him；　not　from　the　foam　of



the　sea；　but　from　a　distant；　still　more　formless；　mysterious；　and



potent　immensity　of　mankind。















CHAPTER　V















One　afternoon　Renouard　stepping　out　on　the　terrace　found　nobody



there。　　It　was　for　him；　at　the　same　time；　a　melancholy



disappointment　and　a　poignant　relief。







The　heat　was　great；　the　air　was　still；　all　the　long　windows　of　the



house　stood　wide　open。　　At　the　further　end；　grouped　round　a　lady's



work…table；　several　chairs　disposed　sociably　suggested　invisible



occupants；　a　company　of　conversing　shades。　　Renouard　looked　towards



them　with　a　sort　of　dread。　　A　most　elusive；　faint　sound　of　ghostly



talk　issuing　from　one　of　the　rooms　added　to　the　illusion　and



stopped　his　already　hesitating　footsteps。　　He　leaned　over　the



balustrade　of　stone　near　a　squat　vase　holding　a　tropical　plant　of　a



bizarre　shape。　　Professor　Moorsom　coming　up　from　the　garden　with　a



book　under　his　arm　and　a　white　parasol　held　over　his　bare　head；



found　him　there　and；　closing　the　parasol；　leaned　over　by　his　side



with　a