the quest of the golden girl-第26节

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er；　and　no　doubt　she　will　mean　it　till　you　have　confessed。　　But；　however　good　their　theories；　women　by　nature　cannot　help　confusing　body　and　soul；　and　what　to　a　man　is　a　mere　fancy　of　the　senses；　to　them　is　a　spiritual　tragedy。　Promise　me　to　lie　stoutly　on　this　point。　It　is；　I　repeat；　the　only　chance　for　your　future　happiness。　　As　has　been　wisely　said；　a　lie　in　time　saves　nine；　and　such　a　lie　as　I　advise　is　but　one　of　the　higher　forms　of　truth。　　Such　lying；　indeed；　is　the　art　of　telling　the　truth。　　The　truth　is　that　you　love　her　body；　soul；　and　spirit；　any　accidental　matter　which　should　tend　to　make　her　doubt　that　would　be　the　only　real　lie。　Promise　me；　won't　you？〃

〃Yes；　I　will　lie；〃　said　Orlando。

〃Well；　there　she　is；〃　I　said；　〃and　God　bless　you　both。〃



CHAPTER　X


IN　WHICH　ONCE　MORE　I　BECOME　OCCUPIED　IN　MY　OWN　AFFAIRS

During　a　pause　in　my　matrimonial　lecture；　Orlando　had　written　a　little　farewell　note　to　Sylvia；a　note　which；　of　course；　I　didn't　read；　but　which　it　is　easy　to　imagine　〃wild　with　all　regret。〃　　This　I　undertook　to　have　delivered　to　her　the　same　night；　and　promised　to　call　upon　her　on　the　morrow；　further　to　illuminate　the　situation；　and　to　offer　her　every　consolation　in　my　power。　　To　conclude　the　history　of　Orlando　and　his　Rosalind；　I　may　say　that　I　saw　them　off　from　Yellowsands　by　the　early　morning　coach。　There　was　a　soft　brightness　in　their　faces；　as　though　rain　had　fallen　in　the　night；　but　it　was　the　warm　sweet　rain　of　joy　that　brings　the　flowers；　and　is　but　sister　to　the　sun。　They　are；　at　the　time　of　my　writing；　quite　old　friends　of　mine；　and　both　have　an　excessive　opinion　of　my　wisdom　and　good…nature。

〃That　lie；〃　Orlando　once　said　to　me　long　after；　〃was　the　truest　thing　I　ever　said　in　my　life；〃a　remark　which　may　not　give　the　reader　a　very　exalted　idea　of　his　general　veracity。

As　the　coach　left　long　before　pretty　young　actresses　even　dreamed　of　getting　up；　I　had　to　control　my　impatient　desire　to　call　on　Mademoiselle　Sylvia　Joy　till　it　was　fully　noon。　　And　even　then　she　was　not　to　be　seen。　　I　tried　again　in　the　afternoon　with　better　success。

Rain　had　been　falling　in　the　night　with　her　too；　I　surmised；　but　it　had　failed　to　dim　her　gay　eyes；　and　had　left　her　complexion　unimpaired。　　Of　course　her　little　affair　with　Orlando　had　never　been　very　serious　on　her　side。　　She　genuinely　liked　him。　　〃He　was　a　nice　kind　boy；〃　was　the　height　of　her　passionate　expression；　and　she　was；　naturally；　a　little　disappointed　at　having　an　affectionate　companion　thus　unexpectedly　whisked　off　into　space。　　Her　only　approach　to　anger　was　on　the　subject　of　his　deceiving　her　about　his　wife。　　Little　Sylvia　Joy　had　no　very　long　string　of　principles；　but　one　generous　principle　she　did　hold　by；never；　if　she　knew　it；　to　rob　another　woman　of　her　husband。　And　that　did　make　her　cross　with　Orlando。　　He　had　not　played　the　game　fair。

There　is　no　need　to　follow；　step　by　step；　the　progression　by　which　Sylvia　Joy　and　I；　though　such　new　acquaintances；　became　in　the　course　of　a　day　or　two　even　more　intimate　than　many　old　friends。　　We　took　to　each　other　instinctively；　even　on　our　first　rather　difficult　interview；　and　very　gently　and　imperceptibly　I　bid　for　the　vacant　place　in　her　heart。

That　night　we　dined　together。

The　next　day　we　lunched　and　dined　together。

The　next　day　we　breakfasted；　lunched；　and　dined　together。

And　on　the　next　I　determined　to　venture　on　the　confession　which；　as　you　may　imagine；　it　had　needed　no　little　artistic　control　not　to　make　on　our　first　meeting。

She　looked　particularly　charming　this　evening；　in　a　black　silk　gown；　exceedingly　simple　and　distinguished　in　style；　throwing　up　the　lovely　firm　whiteness　of　her　throat　and　bosom；　and　making　a　fine　contrast　with　her　lurid　hair。

It　was　sheer　delight　to　sit　opposite　her　at　dinner；　and　quietly　watch　her　without　a　word。　　Shall　I　confess　that　I　had　an　exceedingly　boyish　vanity　in　thus　being　granted　her　friendship？　　It　is　almost　too　boyish　to　confess　at　my　time　of　life。　　It　was　simply　in　the　fact　that　she　was　an　actress；a　real；　live；　famous　actress；　whose　photographs　made　shop　windows　beautiful；come　right　out　of　my　boy's　fairyland　of　the　theatre；　actually　to　sit　eating　and　drinking；　quite　in　a　real　way；　at　my　side。　　This；　no　doubt；　will　seem　pathetically　naive　to　most　modern　young　men；　who　in　this　respect　begin　where　I　leave　off。　　An　actress！　　Great　heavens！　an　actress　is　the　first　step　to　a　knowledge　of　life。　　Besides；　actresses　off　the　stage　are　either　brainless　or　soulful；　and　the　choice　of　evils　is　a　delicate　one。　　Well；　I　have　never　set　up　for　a　man　of　the　world；　though　sometimes　when　I　have　heard　the　Lovelaces　of　the　day　hinting　mysteriously　at　their　secret　sins　or　boasting　of　their　florid　gallantries；　I　have　remembered　the　last　verse　of　Suckling's　〃Ballad　of　a　Wedding；〃　which；　no　doubt；　the　reader　knows　as　well　as　I；　and　if　not；　it　will　increase　his　acquaintance　with　our　brave　old　poetry　to　look　it　up。

〃You　are　very　beautiful　to…night；〃　I　said；　in　one　of　the　meditative　pauses　between　the　courses。

〃Thank　you；　kind　sir；〃　she　said；　making　a　mock　courtesy；　〃but　the　compliment　is　made　a　little　anxious　for　me　by　your　evident　implication　that　I　didn't　look　so　beautiful　this　morning。　　You　laid　such　a　marked　emphasis　on　to…night。〃

〃Nay；〃　I　returned；　〃　‘for　day　and　night　are　both　alike　to　thee。'　　I　think　you　would　even　be　beautifulwell；　I　cannot　imagine　any　moment　or　station　of　life　you　would　not　beautify。〃

〃I　must　get　you　to　write　that　down；　and　then　I'll　have　it　framed。　　It　would　cheer　me　of　a　morning　when　I　curl　my　hair；〃　laughed　Sylvia。

〃But　you　are　beautiful；〃　I　continued；　becoming　quite　impassioned。

〃Yes；　and　as　good　as　I'm　beautiful。〃

And　she　was　too；　though　perhaps　the　beauty　occasionally　predominated。

When　the　serious　business　of　dining　was　dispatched；　and　we　were　trifling　with　our　coffee　and　liqueurs；　my　eyes；　which　of　course　had　seldom　left　her　during　the　whole　meal；　once　more　enfolded　her　little　ivory　and　black　silk　body　with　an　embrace　as　real　as　though　they　had　been　straining　passionate　arms；　and　as　I　thus　nursed　her　in　my　eyes；　I　smiled　involuntarily　at　a　thought　which　not　unnaturally　occurred　to　me。

〃What　is　that　sly　smile　about？〃　she　asked。　　Now　I　had　smiled　to　think　that　underneath　that　stately　silk；　around　that　tight　little　waist；　was　a　dainty　waistband　bearing　the　legend　〃Sylvia　Joy；〃　No。　4；　perhaps；　or　5；　but　NOT　No。　6；　and　a　whole　wonderful　underworld　of　lace　and　linen　and　silk　stockings；　the　counterpart　of　which　wonders；　my　clairvoyant　fancy　laughed　to　think；　were　at　the　momentso　entirely　unsuspected　of　their　original　ownermy　delicious　possessions。

Everything　a　woman　wears　or　touches　immediately　incarnates　something　of　herself。　A　handkerchief；　a　glove；　a　flower；with　a　breath　she　endues　them　with　immortal　souls。　　How　much；　therefore；　of　herself　must　inhere　in　a　garment　so　confidential　as　a　petticoat；　or　so　close　and　constant　a　companion　as　a　stocking！

Now　that　I　knew　Sylvia　Joy；　I　realised　how　absolutely　true　my　instinct　had　been；　when　on　that　far　afternoon　in　that　Surrey　garden　I　had　said；　〃With　such　a　petticoat　and　such　a　name；　Sylvia　herself　cannot　be　otherwise　than　charming。〃

Indeed；　now　I　could　see　that　the　petticoat　was　nothing　short　of　a　portrait　of　her；　and　that　any　one　learned　in　the　physiognomy　of　clothes　would　have　been　able　to　pick　Sylvia　out　of　a　thousand　by　that　spirited；　spoilt；　and　petted　garment。

〃What　is　that　sly　smile　about？〃　she　repeated　presently。

〃I　only　chanced　to　think　of　an　absurd　little　fairy　story　I　read　the　other　day；〃　I　said；　〃which　is　quite　irrelevant　at　the　moment。　　You　know　the　idle　way　things　come　and　go　through　one's　head。〃

〃I　don't　believe　you；〃　she　replied；　〃but　tell　me　the　story。　　I　love　fairy　tales。〃

〃Certainly；〃　I　said；　for　I　wasn't　likely　to　get　a　better　opportunity。　　〃There's　nothing　much　in　it；　it's　merely　a　variation　of　Cinderella's　slipper。　　Well；　once　upon　a　time　there　was　an　eccentric　young　prince　who'd　had　his　fling　in　his　day；　but　had　arrived　at　the　lonely　age　of　thirty　without　having　met　a　woman　whom　he　could　love　enough　to　make　his　wife。　　He　was　a　rather　fanciful　young　prince；　accustomed　to　follow　his　whims；　and　one　day；　being　more　than　usually　bored　with　existence；　he　took　it　into　his　head　to　ramble　incognito　through　his　kingdom　in　search　of　his　ideal　wife；‘The　Golden　Girl；'　as　he　called　her。　　He　had　hardly　set　out　when　in　a　country　lane　he　came　across　a　peasant　girl　hanging　out　clothes　to　dry；　and　he　fell　to　talk　with　her　while　she　went　on　with　her　charming　occupation。　　Presently　he　observed；　pegged　on　the　line；　strangely　incongruous　among　the　other　homespun　garments；　a　wonderful　petticoat；　so　exquisite　in　material　and　design　that　it　aroused　his　curiosity。　　At　the　same　moment　he　noticed　a　pair　of　stockings；　round　the　tops　of　which　one　of　the　daintiest　artists　in　the　land　had　wrought　an　exquisite　little　frieze。　　The　prince　was　learned　in　every　form　of　art；　and　had　not　failed　to　study　this　among　other　forms　of　decoration。　　No　sooner　did　he　see　this　petticoat　than　the　whim　seized　him　that　he　would　find　and　marry　the　wearer；　whoever　she　might　be〃

〃Rather　rash　of　him；〃　interrupted　Sylvia；　〃for　it　is　usually　old　ladies　who　have　the　prettiest　pettic