Daniel Deronda
乔治.艾略特 George Eliot
CHAPTER XI. Page 2
"Thanks. I wanted to know whether you thought his face and form requiredthat his words should be among the meanings of noble music?" Klesmer wasconquered, and flashed at her a delightful smile which made them quitefriendly until she begged to be deposited by the side of her mamma.
Three minutes afterward her preparations for Grandcourt's indifferencewere all canceled. Turning her head after some remark to her mother, shefound that he had made his way up to her.
"May I ask if you are tired of dancing, Miss Harleth?" he began, lookingdown with his former unperturbed expression.
"Not in the least."
"Will you do me the honor--the next--or another quadrille?"
"I should have been very happy," said Gwendolen looking at her card, "butI am engaged for the next to Mr. Clintock--and indeed I perceive that I amdoomed for every quadrille; I have not one to dispose of." She was notsorry to punish Mr. Grandcourt's tardiness, yet at the same time she wouldhave liked to dance with him. She gave him a charming smile as she lookedup to deliver her answer, and he stood still looking down at her with nosmile at all.
"I am unfortunate in being too late," he said, after a moment's pause.
"It seemed to me that you did not care for dancing," said Gwendolen. "Ithought it might be one of the things you had left off."
"Yes, but I have not begun to dance with you," said. Grandcourt. Alwaysthere was the same pause before he took up his cue. "You make dancing anew thing, as you make archery."
"Is novelty always agreeable?"
"No, no--not always."
"Then I don't know whether to feel flattered or not. When you had oncedanced with me there would be no more novelty in it."
"On the contrary, there would probably be much more."
"That is deep. I don't understand."
"It is difficult to make Miss Harleth understand her power?" HereGrandcourt had turned to Mrs. Davilow, who, smiling gently at herdaughter, said--
"I think she does not generally strike people as slow to understand."
"Mamma," said Gwendolen, in a deprecating tone, "I am adorably stupid, andwant everything explained to me--when the meaning is pleasant."
"If you are stupid, I admit that stupidity is adorable," returnedGrandcourt, after the usual pause, and without change of tone. But clearlyhe knew what to say.
"I begin to think that my cavalier has forgotten me," Gwendolen observedafter a little while. "I see the quadrille is being formed."
"He deserves to be renounced," said Grandcourt.
"I think he is very pardonable," said Gwendolen.
"There must have been some misunderstanding," said Mrs. Davilow. "Mr.Clintock was too anxious about the engagement to have forgotten it."
But now Lady Brackenshaw came up and said, "Miss Harleth, Mr. Clintock hascharged me to express to you his deep regret that he was obliged to leavewithout having the pleasure of dancing with you again. An express camefrom his father, the archdeacon; something important; he was to go. He was_au désespoir_."
"Oh, he was very good to remember the engagement under the circumstances,"said Gwendolen. "I am sorry he was called away." It was easy to bepolitely sorrowful on so felicitous an occasion.
"Then I can profit by Mr. Clintock's misfortune?" said Grandcourt. "May Ihope that you will let me take his place?"
"I shall be very happy to dance the next quadrille with you."
The appropriateness of the event seemed an augury, and as Gwendolen stoodup for the quadrille with Grandcourt, there was a revival in her of theexultation--the sense of carrying everything before her, which she hadfelt earlier in the day. No man could have walked through the quadrillewith more irreproachable ease than Grandcourt; and the absence of alleagerness in his attention to her suited his partner's taste. She was nowconvinced that he meant to distinguish her, to mark his admiration of herin a noticeable way; and it began to appear probable that she would haveit in her power to reject him, whence there was a pleasure in reckoning upthe advantages which would make her rejection splendid, and in giving Mr.Grandcourt his utmost value. It was also agreeable to divine that thisexclusive selection of her to dance with, from among all the unmarriedladies present, would attract observation; though She studiously avoidedseeing this, and at the end of the quadrille walked away on Grandcourt'sarm as if she had been one of the shortest sighted instead of the longestand widest sighted of mortals. They encountered Miss Arrowpoint, who wasstanding with Lady Brackenshaw and a group of gentlemen. The heiresslooked at Gwendolen invitingly and said, "I hope you will vote with us,Miss Harleth, and Mr. Grandcourt too, though he is not an archer."Gwendolen and Grandcourt paused to join the group, and found that thevoting turned on the project of a picnic archery meeting to be held inCardell Chase, where the evening entertainment would be more poetic than aball under, chandeliers--a feast of sunset lights along the glades andthrough the branches and over the solemn tree-tops.
Gwendolen thought the scheme delightful--equal to playing Robin Hood andMaid Marian: and Mr. Grandcourt, when appealed to a second time, said itwas a thing to be done; whereupon Mr. Lush, who stood behind LadyBrackenshaw's elbow, drew Gwendolen's notice by saying with a familiarlook and tone to Grandcourt, "Diplow would be a good place for themeeting, and more convenient: there's a fine bit between the oaks towardthe north gate."
Impossible to look more unconscious of being addressed than Grandcourt;but Gwendolen took a new survey of the speaker, deciding, first, that hemust be on terms of intimacy with the tenant of Diplow, and, secondly,that she would never, if she could help it, let him come within a yard ofher. She was subject to physical antipathies, and Mr. Lush's prominenteyes, fat though not clumsy figure, and strong black gray-besprinkled hairof frizzy thickness, which, with the rest of his prosperous person, wasenviable to many, created one of the strongest of her antipathies. To besafe from his looking at her, she murmured to Grandcourt, "I should liketo continue walking."
He obeyed immediately; but when they were thus away from any audience, hespoke no word for several minutes, and she, out of a half-amused, half-serious inclination for experiment, would not speak first. They turnedinto the large conservatory, beautifully lit up with Chinese lamps. Theother couples there were at a distance which would not have interferedwith any dialogue, but still they walked in silence until they had reachedthe farther end where there was a flush of pink light, and the second wideopening into the ball-room. Grandcourt, when they had half turned round,paused and said languidly--
"Do you like this kind of thing?"
If the situation had been described to Gwendolen half an hour before, shewould have laughed heartily at it, and could only have imagined herselfreturning a playful, satirical answer. But for some mysterious reason--itwas a mystery of which she had a faint wondering consciousness--she darednot be satirical: she had begun to feel a wand over her that made herafraid of offending Grandcourt.
"Yes," she said, quietly, without considering what "kind of thing" wasmeant--whether the flowers, the scents, the ball in general, or thisepisode of walking with Mr. Grandcourt in particular. And they returnedalong the conservatory without farther interpretation. She then proposedto go and sit down in her old place, and they walked among scatteredcouples preparing for the waltz to the spot where Mrs. Davilow had beenseated all the evening. As they approached it her seat was vacant, but shewas coming toward it again, and, to Gwendolen's shuddering annoyance, withMr. Lush at her elbow. There was no avoiding the confrontation: her mammacame close to her before they had reached the seats, and, after a quietgreeting smile, said innocently, "Gwendolen, dear, let me present Mr. Lushto you." Having just made the acquaintance of this personage, as anintimate and constant companion of Mr. Grandcourt's, Mrs. Davilow imaginedit altogether desirable that her daughter also should make theacquaintance.
It was hardly a bow that Gwendolen gave--rather, it was the slightestforward sweep of the head away from the physiognomy that inclined itselftoward her, and she immediately moved toward her seat, saying, "I want toput on my burnous." No sooner had she reached it, than Mr. Lush was there,and had the burnous in his hand: to annoy this supercilious young lady, hewould incur the offense of forestalling Grandcourt; and, holding up thegarment close to Gwendolen, he said, "Pray, permit me?" But she, wheelingaway from him as if he had been a muddy hound, glided on to the ottoman,saying, "No, thank you."
A man who forgave this would have much Christian feeling, supposing he hadintended to be agreeable to the young lady; but before he seized theburnous Mr. Lush had ceased to have that intention. Grandcourt quietlytook the drapery from him, and Mr. Lush, with a slight bow, moved away."You had perhaps better put it on," said Mr. Grandcourt, looking down onher without change of expression.
"Thanks; perhaps it would be wise," said Gwendolen, rising, and submittingvery gracefully to take the burnous on her shoulders.
After that, Mr. Grandcourt exchanged a few polite speeches with Mrs.Davilow, and, in taking leave, asked permission to call at Offendene thenext day. He was evidently not offended by the insult directed toward hisfriend. Certainly Gwendolen's refusal of the burnous from Mr. Lush wasopen to the interpretation that she wished to receive it from Mr.Grandcourt. But she, poor child, had no design in this action, and wassimply following her antipathy and inclination, confiding in them as shedid in the more reflective judgments into which they entered as sap intoleafage. Gwendolen had no sense that these men were dark enigmas to her,or that she needed any help in drawing conclusions about them--Mr.Grandcourt at least. The chief question was, how far his character andways might answer her wishes; and unless she were satisfied about that,she had said to herself that she would not accept his offer.
Could there be a slenderer, more insignificant thread in human historythan this consciousness of a girl, busy with her small inferences of theway in which she could make her life pleasant?--in a time, too, when ideaswere with fresh vigor making armies of themselves, and the universalkinship was declaring itself fiercely; when women on the other side of theworld would not mourn for the husbands and sons who died bravely in acommon cause, and men stinted of bread on our side of the world heard ofthat willing loss and were patient: a time when the soul of man waswalking to pulses which had for centuries been beating in him unfelt,until their full sum made a new life of terror or of joy.
What in the midst of that mighty drama are girls and their blind visions?They are the Yea or Nay of that good for which men are enduring andfighting. In these delicate vessels is borne onward through the ages thetreasure of human affections.