the dark flower-第18节

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concerts；　two　walks　with　her　alone；　when　all　that　he　had　said
seemed　as　nothing　said；　and　all　her　sayings　but　ghosts　of　what　he
wished　to　hear；　a　week　of　confusion；　day　and　night；　until；　a　few
minutes　ago；　her　handkerchief　had　fallen　from　her　glove　on　to　the
dusty　road；　and　he　had　picked　it　up　and　put　it　to　his　lips。
Nothing　could　take　away　the　look　she　had　given　him　then。　　Nothing
could　ever　again　separate　her　from　him　utterly。　　She　had　confessed
in　it　to　the　same　sweet；　fearful　trouble　that　he　himself　was
feeling。　　She　had　not　spoken；　but　he　had　seen　her　lips　part；　her
breast　rise　and　fall。　　And　HE　had　not　spoken。　　What　was　the　use　of
words？

He　felt　in　the　pocket　of　his　coat。　　There；　against　his　fingers；　was
that　wisp　of　lawn　and　lace；　soft；　yet　somehow　alive；　and　stealthily
he　took　it　out。　　The　whole　of　her；　with　her　fragrance；　seemed
pressed　to　his　face　in　the　touch　of　that　lawn　border；　roughened　by
little　white　stars。　　More　secretly　than　ever　he　put　it　back；　and
for　the　first　time　looked　round。　　These　people！　　They　belonged　to　a
world　that　he　had　left。　　They　gave　him　the　same　feeling　that　her
uncle　and　aunt　had　given　him　just　now；　when　they　said　good…night；
following　her　into　their　hotel。　　That　good　Colonel；　that　good　Mrs。
Ercott！　　The　very　concretion　of　the　world　he　had　been　brought　up
in；　of　the　English　point　of　view；　symbolic　figures　of　health；
reason；　and　the　straight　path；　on　which　at　that　moment；　seemingly；
he　had　turned　his　back。　　The　Colonel's　profile；　ruddy　through　its
tan；　with　grey　moustache　guiltless　of　any　wax；　his　cheery；　high…
pitched：　〃Good…night；　young　Lennan！〃　　His　wife's　curly　smile；　her
flat；　cosy；　confidential　voicehow　strange　and　remote　they　had
suddenly　become！　　And　all　these　people　here；　chattering；　drinking
how　queer　and　far　away！　　Or　was　it　just　that　he　was　queer　and
remote　to　them？

And　getting　up　from　his　table；　he　passed　the　fiddlers　with　the
dark…white　skins；　out　into　the　Place。


II


He　went　up　the　side　streets　to　the　back　of　her　hotel；　and　stood　by
the　railings　of　the　gardenone　of　those　hotel　gardens　which　exist
but　to　figure　in　advertisements；　with　its　few　arid　palms；　its　paths
staring　white　between　them；　and　a　fringe　of　dusty　lilacs　and
mimosas。

And　there　came　to　him　the　oddest　feelingthat　he　had　been　there
before；　peering　through　blossoms　at　those　staring　paths　and
shuttered　windows。　　A　scent　of　wood…smoke　was　abroad；　and　some　dry
plant　rustled　ever　so　faintly　in　what　little　wind　was　stirring。
What　was　there　of　memory　in　this　night；　this　garden？　　Some　dark
sweet　thing；　invisible；　to　feel　whose　presence　was　at　once　ecstasy；
and　the　irritation　of　a　thirst　that　will　not　be　quenched。

And　he　walked　on。　　Houses；　houses！　　At　last　he　was　away　from　them；
alone　on　the　high　road；　beyond　the　limits　of　Monaco。　　And　walking
thus　through　the　night　he　had　thoughts　that　he　imagined　no　one　had
ever　had　before　him。　　The　knowledge　that　she　loved　him　had　made
everything　seem　very　sacred　and　responsible。　　Whatever　he　did；　he
must　not　harm　her。　　Women　were　so　helpless！

For　in　spite　of　six　years　of　art　in　Rome　and　Paris；　he　still　had　a
fastidious　reverence　for　women。　　If　she　had　loved　her　husband　she
would　have　been　safe　enough　from　him；　but　to　be　bound　to　a
companionship　that　she　gave　unwillinglythis　had　seemed　to　him
atrocious；　even　before　he　loved　her。　　How　could　any　husband　ask
that？　　Have　so　little　prideso　little　pity？　　The　unpardonable
thing！　　What　was　there　to　respect　in　such　a　marriage？　　Only；　he
must　not　do　her　harm！　　But　now　that　her　eyes　had　said；　I　love　you！
What　then？　　It　was　simply　miraculous　to　know　THAT；　under　the　stars
of　this　warm　Southern　night；　burning　its　incense　of　trees　and
flowers！

Climbing　up　above　the　road；　he　lay　down。　　If　only　she　were　there
beside　him！　　The　fragrance　of　the　earth　not　yet　chilled；　crept　to
his　face；　and　for　just　a　moment　it　seemed　to　him　that　she　did　come。
If　he　could　keep　her　there　for　ever　in　that　embrace　that　was　no
embracein　that　ghostly　rapture；　on　this　wild　fragrant　bed　that　no
lovers　before　had　ever　pressed；　save　the　creeping　things；　and　the
flowers；　save　sunlight　and　moonlight　with　their　shadows；　and　the
wind　kissing　the　earth！　。　。　。

Then　she　was　gone；　his　hands　touched　nothing　but　the　crumbled　pine
dust；　and　the　flowers　of　the　wild　thyme　fallen　into　sleep。

He　stood　on　the　edge　of　the　little　cliff；　above　the　road　between
the　dark　mountains　and　the　sea　black　with　depth。　　Too　late　for　any
passer…by；　as　far　from　what　men　thought　and　said　and　did　as　the
very　night　itself　with　its　whispering　warmth。　　And　he　conjured　up
her　face；　making　certain　of　itthe　eyes；　clear　and　brown；　and　wide
apart；　the　close；　sweet　mouth；　the　dark　hair；　the　whole　flying
loveliness。

Then　he　leaped　down　into　the　road；　and　ranone　could　not　walk；
feeling　this　miracle；　that　no　one　had　ever　felt　before；　the　miracle
of　love。


III


In　their　most　reputable　hotel　'Le　Coeur　d'Or；'　long　since
remodelled　and　renamed；　Mrs。　Ercott　lay　in　her　brass…bound　bed
looking　by　starlight　at　the　Colonel　in　his　brass…bound　bed。　　Her
ears　were　carefully　freed　from　the　pressure　of　her　pillow；　for　she
thought　she　heard　a　mosquito。　　Companion　for　thirty　years　to　one
whose　life　had　been　feverishly　punctuated　by　the　attentions　of
those　little　beasts；　she　had　no　love　for　them。　　It　was　the　one
subject　on　which　perhaps　her　imagination　was　stronger　than　her
common　sense。　　For　in　fact　there　was　not；　and　could　not　be；　a
mosquito；　since　the　first　thing　the　Colonel　did；　on　arriving　at　any
place　farther　South　than　Parallel　46　of　latitude；　was　to　open　the
windows　very　wide；　and　nail　with　many　tiny　tacks　a　piece　of
mosquito　netting　across　that　refreshing　space；　while　she　held　him
firmly　by　the　coat…tails。　　The　fact　that　other　people　did　not　so
secure　their　windows　did　not　at　all　trouble　the　Colonel；　a　true
Englishman；　who　loved　to　act　in　his　own　way；　and　to　think　in　the
ways　of　other　people。　　After　that　they　would　wait　till　night　came；
then　burn　a　peculiar　little　lamp　with　a　peculiar　little　smell；　and；
in　the　full　glare　of　the　gaslight；　stand　about　on　chairs；　with
slippers；　and　their　eyes　fixed　on　true　or　imaginary　beasts。　　Then
would　fall　little　slaps；　making　little　messes；　and　little　joyous　or
doleful　cries　would　arise：　〃I've　got　that　one！〃　　〃Oh；　John；　I
missed　him！〃　　And　in　the　middle　of　the　room；　the　Colonel；　in
pyjamas；　and　spectacles　（only　worn　in　very　solemn　moments；　low　down
on　his　nose）；　would　revolve　slowly；　turning　his　eyes；　with　that
look　in　them　of　out…facing　death　which　he　had　so　long　acquired；　on
every　inch　of　wall　and　ceiling；　till　at　last　he　would　say：　〃Well；
Dolly；　that's　the　lot！〃　　At　which　she　would　say：　〃Give　me　a　kiss；
dear！〃　and　he　would　kiss　her；　and　get　into　his　bed。

There　was；　then；　no　mosquito；　save　that　general　ghost　of　him　which
lingered　in　the　mind　of　one　devoted　to　her　husband。　　Spying　out　his
profile；　for　he　was　lying　on　his　back；　she　refrained　from　saying：
〃John；　are　you　awake？〃　　A　whiffling　sound　was　coming　from　a　nose；
to　whichoriginally　straightattention　to　military　duties　had
given　a　slight　crook；　half　an　inch　below　the　level　of　grizzled
eyebrows　raised　a　little；　as　though　surprised　at　the　sounds
beneath。　　She　could　hardly　see　him；　but　she　thought：　〃How　good　he
looks！〃　　And；　in　fact；　he　did。　　It　was　the　face　of　a　man　incapable
of　evil；　having　in　its　sleep　the　candour　of　one　at　heart　a　child
that　simple　candour　of　those　who　have　never　known　how　to　seek
adventures　of　the　mind；　and　have　always　sought　adventures　of　the
body。　　Then　somehow　she　did　say：

〃John！　　Are　you　asleep？〃

The　Colonel；　instantly　alive；　as　at　some　old…time　attack；　answered：

〃Yes。〃

〃That　poor　young　man！〃

〃Which？〃

〃Mark　Lennan。　　Haven't　you　seen？〃

〃What？〃

〃My　dear；　it　was　under　your　nose。　　But　you　never　do　see　these
things！〃

The　Colonel　slowly　turned　his　head。　　His　wife　was　an　imaginative
woman！　　She　had　always　been　so。　　Dimly　he　perceived　that　something
romantic　was　about　to　come　from　her。　　But　with　that　almost
professional　gentleness　of　a　man　who　has　cut　the　heads　and　arms　off
people　in　his　time；　he　answered：

〃What　things？〃

〃He　picked　up　her　handkerchief。〃

〃Whose？〃

〃Olive's。　　He　put　it　in　his　pocket。　　I　distinctly　saw　him。〃

There　was　silence；　then　Mrs。　Ercott's　voice　rose　again；　impersonal；
far　away。

〃What　always　astonishes　me　about　young　people　is　the　way　they　think
they're　not　seenpoor　dears！〃

Still　there　was　silence。

〃John！　　Are　you　thinking？〃

For　a　considerable　sound　of　breathing；　not　mere　whiffling　now；　was
coming　from　the　Colonelto　his　wife　a　sure　sign。

And　indeed　he　WAS　thinking。　　Dolly　was　an　imaginative　woman；　but
something　told　him　that　in　this　case　she　might　not　be　riding　past
the　hounds。

Mrs。　Ercott　raised　herself。　　He　looked　more　good　than　ever；　a
little　perplexed　frown　had　climbed　up　with　his　eyebrows　and　got
caught　in　the　wrinkles　across　his　forehead。

〃I'm　very　fond　of　Olive；〃　he　said。

Mrs。　Ercott　fell　back　on　her　pillows。　　In　her　heart　there　was　just
that　little　soreness　natural　to　a　woman　over　fifty；　whose　husband
has　a　niece。

〃No　doubt；〃　she　murmured。

Something　vague　moved　deep　down　in　the