Daniel Deronda
乔治.艾略特 George Eliot
CHAPTER XI. Page 1
The beginning of an acquaintance whether with persons or things is toget a definite outline for our ignorance.
Mr. Grandcourt's wish to be introduced had no suddenness for Gwendolen;but when Lord Brackenshaw moved aside a little for the prefigured strangerto come forward and she felt herself face to face with the real man, therewas a little shock which flushed her cheeks and vexatiously deepened withher consciousness of it. The shock came from the reversal of herexpectations: Grandcourt could hardly have been more unlike all herimaginary portraits of him. He was slightly taller than herself, and theireyes seemed to be on a level; there was not the faintest smile on his faceas he looked at her, not a trace of self-consciousness or anxiety in hisbearing: when he raised his hat he showed an extensive baldness surroundedwith a mere fringe of reddish-blonde hair, but he also showed a perfecthand; the line of feature from brow to chin undisguised by beard wasdecidedly handsome, with only moderate departures from the perpendicular,and the slight whisker too was perpendicular. It was not possible for ahuman aspect to be freer from grimace or solicitous wrigglings: also itwas perhaps not possible for a breathing man wide awake to look lessanimated. The correct Englishman, drawing himself up from his bow intorigidity, assenting severely, and seemed to be in a state of internaldrill, suggests a suppressed vivacity, and may be suspected of letting gowith some violence when he is released from parade; but Grandcourt'sbearing had no rigidity, it inclined rather to the flaccid. His complexionhad a faded fairness resembling that of an actress when bare of theartificial white and red; his long narrow gray eyes expressed nothing butindifference. Attempts at description are stupid: who can all at oncedescribe a human being? even when he is presented to us we only begin thatknowledge of his appearance which must be completed by innumerableimpressions under differing circumstances. We recognize the alphabet; weare not sure of the language. I am only mentioning the point thatGwendolen saw by the light of a prepared contrast in the first minutes ofher meeting with Grandcourt: they were summed up in the words, "He is notridiculous." But forthwith Lord Brackenshaw was gone, and what is calledconversation had begun, the first and constant element in it being thatGrandcourt looked at Gwendolen persistently with a slightly exploringgaze, but without change of expression, while she only occasionally lookedat him with a flash of observation a little softened by coquetry. Also,after her answers there was a longer or shorter pause before he spokeagain.
"I used to think archery was a great bore," Grandcourt began. He spokewith a fine accent, but with a certain broken drawl, as of a distinguishedpersonage with a distinguished cold on his chest.
"Are you converted to-day?" said Gwendolen.
(Pause, during which she imagined various degrees and modes of opinionabout herself that might be entertained by Grandcourt.)
"Yes, since I saw you shooting. In things of this sort one generally seespeople missing and simpering."
"I suppose you are a first-rate shot with a rifle."
(Pause, during which Gwendolen, having taken a rapid observation ofGrandcourt, made a brief graphic description of him to an indefinitehearer.)
"I have left off shooting."
"Oh then you are a formidable person. People who have done things once andleft them off make one feel very contemptible, as if one were using cast-off fashions. I hope you have not left off all follies, because I practicea great many."
(Pause, during which Gwendolen made several interpretations of her ownspeech.)
"What do you call follies?"
"Well, in general I think, whatever is agreeable is called a folly. Butyou have not left off hunting, I hear."
(Pause, wherein Gwendolen recalled what she had heard about Grandcourt'sposition, and decided that he was the most aristocratic-looking man shehad ever seen.)
"One must do something."
"And do you care about the turf?--or is that among the things you haveleft off?"
(Pause, during which Gwendolen thought that a man of extremely calm, coldmanners might be less disagreeable as a husband than other men, and notlikely to interfere with his wife's preferences.)
"I run a horse now and then; but I don't go in for the thing as some mendo. Are you fond of horses?"
"Yes, indeed: I never like my life so well as when I am on horseback,having a great gallop. I think of nothing. I only feel myself strong andhappy."
(Pause, wherein Gwendolen wondered whether Grandcourt would like what shesaid, but assured herself that she was not going to disguise her tastes.)
"Do you like danger?"
"I don't know. When I am on horseback I never think of danger. It seems tome that if I broke my bones I should not feel it. I should go at anythingthat came in my way."
(Pause during which Gwendolen had run through a whole hunting season withtwo chosen hunters to ride at will.)
"You would perhaps like tiger-hunting or pig-sticking. I saw some of thatfor a season or two in the East. Everything here is poor stuff afterthat."
"_You_ are fond of danger, then?"
(Pause, wherein Gwendolen speculated on the probability that the men ofcoldest manners were the most adventurous, and felt the strength of herown insight, supposing the question had to be decided.)
"One must have something or other. But one gets used to it."
"I begin to think I am very fortunate, because everything is new to me: itis only that I can't get enough of it. I am not used to anything exceptbeing dull, which I should like to leave off as you have left offshooting."
(Pause, during which it occurred to Gwendolen that a man of cold anddistinguished manners might possibly be a dull companion; but on the otherhand she thought that most persons were dull, that she had not observedhusbands to be companions--and that after all she was not going to acceptGrandcourt.)
"Why are you dull?"
"This is a dreadful neighborhood. There is nothing to be done in it. Thatis why I practiced my archery."
(Pause, during which Gwendolen reflected that the life of an unmarriedwoman who could not go about and had no command of anything mustnecessarily be dull through all degrees of comparison as time went on.)
words as of music?" my archery."like my life so well as when I am .
"You have made yourself queen of it. I imagine you will carry the firstprize."
"I don't know that. I have great rivals. Did you not observe how well MissArrowpoint shot?"
(Pause, wherein Gwendolen was thinking that men had been known to choosesome one else than the woman they most admired, and recalled severalexperiences of that kind in novels.)
"Miss Arrowpoint. No--that is, yes."
"Shall we go now and hear what the scoring says? Every one is going to theother end now--shall we join them? I think my uncle is looking toward me.He perhaps wants me."
were like her," said Gwendolen.mean by ugly people!
Gwendolen found a relief for herself by thus changing the situation: notthat the _tete-à-tete_ was quite disagreeable to her; but while it lastedshe apparently could not get rid of the unwonted flush in her cheeks andthe sense of surprise which made her feel less mistress of herself thanusual. And this Mr. Grandcourt, who seemed to feel his own importance morethan he did hers--a sort of unreasonableness few of us can tolerate--mustnot take for granted that he was of great moment to her, or that becauseothers speculated on him as a desirable match she held herself altogetherat his beck. How Grandcourt had filled up the pauses will be more evidenthereafter.
"You have just missed the gold arrow, Gwendolen," said Mr. Gascoigne."Miss Juliet Fenn scores eight above you."
"I am very glad to hear it. I should have felt that I was making myselftoo disagreeable--taking the best of everything," said Gwendolen, quiteeasily.
It was impossible to be jealous of Juliet Fenn, a girl as middling as mid-day market in everything but her archery and plainness, in which last shewas noticeable like her father: underhung and with receding browresembling that of the more intelligent fishes. (Surely, considering theimportance which is given to such an accident in female offspring,marriageable men, or what the new English calls "intending bridegrooms,"should look at themselves dispassionately in the glass, since theirnatural selection of a mate prettier than themselves is not certain to barthe effect of their own ugliness.)
There was now a lively movement in the mingling groups, which carried thetalk along with it. Every one spoke to every one else by turns, andGwendolen, who chose to see what was going on around her now, observedthat Grandcourt was having Klesmer presented to him by some one unknown toher--a middle-aged man, with dark, full face and fat hands, who seemed tobe on the easiest terms with both, and presently led the way in joiningthe Arrowpoints, whose acquaintance had already been made by both him andGrandcourt. Who this stranger was she did not care much to know; but shewished to observe what was Grandcourt's manner toward others than herself.Precisely the same: except that he did not look much at Miss Arrowpoint,but rather at Klesmer, who was speaking with animation--now stretching outhis long fingers horizontally, now pointing downward with his fore-finger,now folding his arms and tossing his mane, while he addressed himselffirst to one and then to the other, including Grandcourt, who listenedwith an impassive face and narrow eyes, his left fore-finger in hiswaistcoat-pocket, and his right slightly touching his thin whisker.
"I wonder which style Miss Arrowpoint admires most," was a thought thatglanced through Gwendolen's mind, while her eyes and lips gathered rathera mocking expression. But she would not indulge her sense of amusement bywatching, as if she were curious, and she gave all her animation to thoseimmediately around her, determined not to care whether Mr. Grandcourt camenear her again or not.
He did not come, however, and at a moment when he could propose to conductMrs. Davilow to her carriage, "Shall we meet again in the ball-room?" shesaid as he raised his hat at parting. The "yes" in reply had the usualslight drawl and perfect gravity.
"You were wrong for once Gwendolen," said Mrs. Davilow, during their fewminutes' drive to the castle.
"In what, mamma?"
"About Mr. Grandcourt's appearance and manners. You can't find anythingridiculous in him."
"I suppose I could if I tried, but I don't want to do it," said Gwendolen,rather pettishly; and her mother was afraid to say more.
It was the rule on these occasions for the ladies and gentlemen to dineapart, so that the dinner might make a time of comparative ease and restfor both. Indeed, the gentlemen had a set of archery stories about theepicurism of the ladies, who had somehow been reported to show a revoltingmasculine judgment in venison, even asking for the fat--a proof of thefrightful rate at which corruption might go on in women, but for severesocial restraint, and every year the amiable Lord Brackenshaw, who wassomething of a _gourmet_, mentioned Byron's opinion that a woman shouldnever be seen eating,--introducing it with a confidential--"The fact is"as if he were for the first time admitting his concurrence in thatsentiment of the refined poet.
In the ladies' dining-room it was evident that Gwendolen was not a generalfavorite with her own sex: there were no beginnings of intimacy betweenher and other girls, and in conversation they rather noticed what she saidthan spoke to her in free exchange. Perhaps it was that she was not muchinterested in them, and when left alone in their company had a sense ofempty benches. Mrs. Vulcany once remarked that Miss Harleth was too fondof the gentlemen; but we know that she was not in the least fond of them--she was only fond of their homage--and women did not give her homage. Theexception to this willing aloofness from her was Miss Arrowpoint, whooften managed unostentatiously to be by her side, and talked to her withquiet friendliness.
"She knows, as I do, that our friends are ready to quarrel over a husbandfor us," thought Gwendolen, "and she is determined not to enter into thequarrel."
"I think Miss Arrowpoint has the best manners I ever saw," said Mrs.Davilow, when she and Gwendolen were in a dressing-room with Mrs.Gascoigne and Anna, but at a distance where they could have their talkapart.
"I wish I were like her," said Gwendolen.
"Why? Are you getting discontented with yourself, Gwen?"
"No; but I am discontented with things. She seems contented."
"I am sure you ought to be satisfied to-day. You must have enjoyed theshooting. I saw you did."
"Oh, that is over now, and I don't know what will come next," saidGwendolen, stretching herself with a sort of moan and throwing up herarms. They were bare now; it was the fashion to dance in the archerydress, throwing off the jacket; and the simplicity of her white cashmerewith its border of pale green set off her form to the utmost. A thin lineof gold round her neck, and the gold star on her breast, were her onlyornaments. Her smooth soft hair piled up into a grand crown made a clearline about her brow. Sir Joshua would have been glad to take her portrait;and he would have had an easier task than the historian at least in this,that he would not have had to represent the truth of change--only to givestability to one beautiful moment.
discontented with things. She seems contented."husbandfor us.
"The dancing will come next," said Mrs. Davilow "You We sure to enjoythat."
"I shall only dance in the quadrille. I told Mr. Clintock so. I shall notwaltz or polk with any one."
"Why in the world do you say that all on a sudden?"
"I can't bear having ugly people so near me."
"Whom do you mean by ugly people?"
"Oh, plenty."
"Mr. Clintock, for example, is not ugly." Mrs. Davilow dared not mentionGrandcourt.
"Well, I hate woolen cloth touching me."
"Fancy!" said Mrs. Davilow to her sister who now came up from the otherend of the room. "Gwendolen says she will not waltz or polk."
"She is rather given to whims, I think," said Mrs. Gascoigne, gravely. "Itwould be more becoming in her to behave as other young ladies do on suchan occasion as this; especially when she has had the advantage of first-rate dancing lessons."
"Why should I dance if I don't like it, aunt? It is not in the catechism."
"My _dear_!" said Mrs. Gascoigne, in a tone of severe check, and Annalooked frightened at Gwendolen's daring. But they all passed on withoutsaying any more.
Apparently something had changed Gwendolen's mood since the hour ofexulting enjoyment in the archery-ground. But she did not look the worseunder the chandeliers in the ball-room, where the soft splendor of thescene and the pleasant odors from the conservatory could not but besoothing to the temper, when accompanied with the consciousness of beingpreeminently sought for. Hardly a dancing man but was anxious to have herfor a partner, and each whom she accepted was in a state of melancholyremonstrance that she would not waltz or polk.
"Are you under a vow, Miss Harleth?"--"Why are you so cruel to us all?"--"You waltzed with me in February."--"And you who waltz so perfectly!" wereexclamations not without piquancy for her. The ladies who waltzednaturally thought that Miss Harleth only wanted to make herselfparticular; but her uncle when he overheard her refusal supported her bysaying--
"Gwendolen has usually good reasons." He thought she was certainly moredistinguished in not waltzing, and he wished her to be distinguished. Thearchery ball was intended to be kept at the subdued pitch that suited alldignities clerical and secular; it was not an escapement for youthful highspirits, and he himself was of opinion that the fashionable dances weretoo much of a romp.
Among the remonstrant dancing men, however, Mr. Grandcourt was notnumbered. After standing up for a quadrille with Miss Arrowpoint, itseemed that he meant to ask for no other partner. Gwendolen observed himfrequently with the Arrowpoints, but he never took an opportunity ofapproaching her. Mr. Gascoigne was sometimes speaking to him; but Mr.Gascoigne was everywhere. It was in her mind now that she would probablyafter all not have the least trouble about him: perhaps he had looked ather without any particular admiration, and was too much used to everythingin the world to think of her as more than one of the girls who wereinvited in that part of the country. Of course! It was ridiculous ofelders to entertain notions about what a man would do, without having seenhim even through a telescope. Probably he meant to marry Miss Arrowpoint.Whatever might come, she, Gwendolen, was not going to be disappointed: theaffair was a joke whichever way it turned, for she had never committedherself even by a silent confidence in anything Mr. Grandcourt would do.Still, she noticed that he did sometimes quietly and gradually change hisposition according to hers, so that he could see her whenever she wasdancing, and if he did not admire her--so much the worse for him.
This movement for the sake of being in sight of her was more direct thanusual rather late in the evening, when Gwendolen had accepted Klesmer as apartner; and that wide-glancing personage, who saw everything and nothingby turns, said to her when they were walking, "Mr. Grandcourt is a man oftaste. He likes to see you dancing."
"Perhaps he likes to look at what is against his taste," said Gwendolen,with a light laugh; she was quite courageous with Klesmer now. "He may beso tired of admiring that he likes disgust for variety."
"Those words are not suitable to your lips," said Klesmer, quickly, withone of his grand frowns, while he shook his hand as if to banish thediscordant sounds.
"Are you as critical of words as of music?"
"Certainly I am. I should require your words to be what your face and formare--always among the meanings of a noble music."
"That is a compliment as well as a correction. I am obliged for both. Butdo you know I am bold enough to wish to correct _you_, and require you tounderstand a joke?"
"One may understand jokes without liking them," said the terrible Klesmer."I have had opera books sent me full of jokes; it was just because Iunderstood them that I did not like them. The comic people are ready tochallenge a man because he looks grave. 'You don't see the witticism,sir?' 'No, sir, but I see what you meant.' Then I am what we call ticketedas a fellow without _esprit_. But, in fact," said Klesmer, suddenlydropping from his quick narrative to a reflective tone, with an impressivefrown, "I am very sensible to wit and humor."
"I am glad you tell me that," said Gwendolen, not without some wickednessof intention. But Klesmer's thoughts had flown off on the wings of his ownstatement, as their habit was, and she had the wickedness all to herself."Pray, who is that standing near the card-room door?" she went on, seeingthere the same stranger with whom Klesmer had been in animated talk on thearchery ground. "He is a friend of yours, I think."
"No, no; an amateur I have seen in town; Lush, a Mr. Lush--too fond ofMeyerbeer and Scribe--too fond of the mechanical-dramatic."