Daniel Deronda
乔治.艾略特 George Eliot
CHAPTER XXXV. Page 1
Were uneasiness of conscience measured by extent of crime, humanhistory had been different, and one should look to see the contriversof greedy wars and the mighty marauders of the money-market in onetroop of self-lacerating penitents with the meaner robber and cut-purse and the murderer that doth his butchery in small with his ownhand. No doubt wickedness hath its rewards to distribute; but who sowins in this devil's game must needs be baser, more cruel, more brutalthan the order of this planet will allow for the multitude born ofwoman, the most of these carrying a form of conscience--a fear whichis the shadow of justice, a pity which is the shadow of love--thathindereth from the prize of serene wickedness, itself difficult ofmaintenance in our composite flesh.
On the twenty-ninth of December Deronda knew that the Grandcourts hadarrived at the Abbey, but he had had no glimpse of them before he went todress for dinner. There had been a splendid fall of snow, allowing theparty of children the rare pleasures of snow-balling and snow-building,and in the Christmas holidays the Mallinger girls were content with noamusement unless it were joined in and managed by "cousin," as they hadalways called Deronda. After that outdoor exertion he had been playingbilliards, and thus the hours had passed without his dwelling at all onthe prospect of meeting Gwendolen at dinner. Nevertheless that prospectwas interesting to him; and when, a little tired and heated with workingat amusement, he went to his room before the half-hour bell had rung, hebegan to think of it with some speculation on the sort of influence hermarriage with Grandcourt would have on her, and on the probability thatthere would be some discernible shades of change in her manner since hesaw her at Diplow, just as there had been since his first vision of her atLeubronn.
"I fancy there are some natures one could see growing or degeneratingevery day, if one watched them," was his thought. "I suppose some of us goon faster than others: and I am sure she is a creature who keeps strongtraces of anything that has once impressed her. That little affair of thenecklace, and the idea that somebody thought her gambling wrong, hadevidently bitten into her. But such impressibility leads both ways: it maydrive one to desperation as soon as to anything better. And whateverfascinations Grandcourt may have for capricious tastes--good heavens! whocan believe that he would call out the tender affections in dailycompanionship? One might be tempted to horsewhip him for the sake ofgetting some show of passion into his face and speech. I'm afraid shemarried him out of ambition--to escape poverty. But why did she run out ofhis way at first? The poverty came after, though. Poor thing! she may havebeen urged into it. How can one feel anything else than pity for a youngcreature like that--full of unused life--ignorantly rash--hanging all herblind expectations on that remnant of a human being."
Doubtless the phrases which Deronda's meditation applied to the bridegroomwere the less complimentary for the excuses and pity in which it clad thebride. His notion of Grandcourt as a "remnant" was founded on noparticular knowledge, but simply on the impression which ordinary politeintercourse had given him that Grandcourt had worn out all his naturalhealthy interest in things.
A various party had been invited to meet the new couple; the oldaristocracy was represented by Lord and Lady Pentreath; the old gentry byyoung Mr. and Mrs. Fitzadam of the Worcestershire branch of the Fitzadams;politics and the public good, as specialized in the cider interest, by Mr.Fenn, member for West Orchards, accompanied by his two daughters; LadyMallinger's family, by her brother, Mr. Raymond, and his wife; the usefulbachelor element by Mr. Sinker, the eminent counsel, and by Mr.Vandernoodt, whose acquaintance Sir Hugo had found pleasant enough atLeubronn to be adopted in England.
All had assembled in the drawing-room before the new couple appeared.Meanwhile, the time was being passed chiefly in noticing the children--various little Raymonds, nephews and nieces of Lady Mallinger's with herown three girls, who were always allowed to appear at this hour. The scenewas really delightful--enlarged by full-length portraits with deepbackgrounds, inserted in the cedar paneling--surmounted by a ceiling thatglowed with the rich colors of the coats of arms ranged between thesockets--illuminated almost as much by the red fire of oak-boughs as bythe pale wax-lights--stilled by the deep-piled carpet and by the highEnglish breeding that subdues all voices; while the mixture of ages, fromthe white-haired Lord and Lady Pentreath to the four-year-old EdgarRaymond, gave a varied charm to the living groups. Lady Mallinger, withfair matronly roundness and mildly prominent blue eyes, moved about in herblack velvet, carrying a tiny white dog on her arm as a sort of finish toher costume; the children were scattered among the ladies, while most ofthe gentlemen were standing rather aloof, conversing with that verymoderate vivacity observable during the long minutes before dinner.Deronda was a little out of the circle in a dialogue fixed upon him by Mr.Vandernoodt, a man of the best Dutch blood imported at the revolution: forthe rest, one of those commodious persons in society who are nothingparticular themselves, but are understood to be acquainted with the bestin every department; close-clipped, pale-eyed, _nonchalant_, as good afoil as could well be found to the intense coloring and vivid gravity ofDeronda.
He was talking of the bride and bridegroom, whose appearance was beingwaited for. Mr. Vandernoodt was an industrious gleaner of personaldetails, and could probably tell everything about a great philosopher orphysicist except his theories or discoveries; he was now implying that hehad learned many facts about Grandcourt since meeting him at Leubronn.
"Men who have seen a good deal of life don't always end by choosing theirwives so well. He has had rather an anecdotic history--gone rather deepinto pleasures, I fancy, lazy as he is. But, of course, you know all abouthim."
"No, really," said Deronda, in an indifferent tone. "I know little more ofhim than that he is Sir Hugo's nephew."
But now the door opened and deferred any satisfaction of Mr. Vandernoodt'scommunicativeness.
The scene was one to set off any figure of distinction that entered on it,and certainly when Mr. and Mrs. Grandcourt entered, no beholder could denythat their figures had distinction. The bridegroom had neither more norless easy perfection of costume, neither more nor less well-cutimpassibility of face, than before his marriage. It was to be supposed ofhim that he would put up with nothing less than the best in outwardequipment, wife included; and the bride was what he might have beenexpected to choose. "By George, I think she's handsomer, if anything!"said Mr. Vandernoodt. And Deronda was of the same opinion, but he saidnothing. The white silk and diamonds--it may seem strange, but she didwear diamonds on her neck, in her ears, in her hair--might have somethingto do with the new imposingness of her beauty, which flashed on him asmore unquestionable if not more thoroughly satisfactory than when he hadfirst seen her at the gaming-table. Some faces which are peculiar in theirbeauty are like original works of art: for the first time they are almostalways met with question. But in seeing Gwendolen at Diplow, Deronda haddiscerned in her more than he had expected of that tender appealing charmwhich we call womanly. Was there any new change since then? He distrustedhis impressions; but as he saw her receiving greetings with what seemed aproud cold quietude and a superficial smile, there seemed to be at workwithin her the same demonic force that had possessed her when she took himin her resolute glance and turned away a loser from the gaming-table.There was no time for more of a conclusion--no time even for him to givehis greeting before the summons to dinner.
He sat not far from opposite to her at table, and could sometimes hearwhat she said in answer to Sir Hugo, who was at his liveliest inconversation with her; but though he looked toward her with the intentionof bowing, she gave him no opportunity of doing so for some time. At lastSir Hugo, who might have imagined that they had already spoken to eachother, said, "Deronda, you will like to hear what Mrs. Grandcourt tells meabout your favorite Klesmer."
Gwendolen's eyelids had been lowered, and Deronda, already looking at her,thought he discovered a quivering reluctance as she was obliged to raisethem and return his unembarrassed bow and smile, her own smile being oneof the lip merely. It was but an instant, and Sir Hugo continued withoutpause--
"The Arrowpoints have condoned the marriage, and he is spending theChristmas with his bride at Quetcham."
"I suppose he will be glad of it for the sake of his wife, else I dare sayhe would not have minded keeping at a distance," said Deronda.
"It's a sort of troubadour story," said Lady Pentreath, an easy, deep-voiced old lady; "I'm glad to find a little romance left among us. I thinkour young people now are getting too worldly wise."
"It shows the Arrowpoints' good sense, however, to have adopted theaffair, after the fuss in the paper," said Sir Hugo. "And disowning yourown child because of a _mésalliance_ is something like disowning your oneeye: everybody knows it's yours, and you have no other to make anappearance with."
"As to _mésalliance_, there's no blood on any side," said Lady Pentreath."Old Admiral Arrowpoint was one of Nelson's men, you know--a doctor's son.And we all know how the mother's money came."
"If they were any _mésalliance_ in the case, I should say it was onKlesmer's side," said Deronda.
"Ah, you think it is a case of the immortal marrying the mortal. What isyour opinion?" said Sir Hugo, looking at Gwendolen.
"I have no doubt that Herr Klesmer thinks himself immortal. But I dare sayhis wife will burn as much incense before him as he requires," saidGwendolen. She had recovered any composure that she might have lost.
"Don't you approve of a wife burning incense before her husband?" said SirHugo, with an air of jocoseness.
"Oh, yes," said Gwendolen, "if it were only to make others believe inhim." She paused a moment and then said with more gayety, "When HerrKlesmer admires his own genius, it will take off some of the absurdity ifhis wife says Amen."
"Klesmer is no favorite of yours, I see," said Sir Hugo.
"I think very highly of him, I assure you," said Gwendolen. "His genius isquite above my judgment, and I know him to be exceedingly generous."
She spoke with the sudden seriousness which is often meant to correct anunfair or indiscreet sally, having a bitterness against Klesmer in hersecret soul which she knew herself unable to justify. Deronda waswondering what he should have thought of her if he had never heard of herbefore: probably that she put on a little hardness and defiance by way ofconcealing some painful consciousness--if, indeed, he could imagine hermanners otherwise than in the light of his suspicion. But why did she notrecognize him with more friendliness?
Sir Hugo, by way of changing the subject, said to her, "Is not this abeautiful room? It was part of the refectory of the Abbey. There was adivision made by those pillars and the three arches, and afterward theywere built up. Else it was half as large again originally. There used tobe rows of Benedictines sitting where we are sitting. Suppose we weresuddenly to see the lights burning low and the ghosts of the old monksrising behind all our chairs!"
"Please don't!" said Gwendolen, with a playful shudder. "It is very niceto come after ancestors and monks, but they should know their places andkeep underground. I should be rather frightened to go about this house allalone. I suppose the old generations must be angry with us because we havealtered things so much."
"Oh, the ghosts must be of all political parties," said Sir Hugo. "Andthose fellows who wanted to change things while they lived and couldn't doit must be on our side. But if you would not like to go over the housealone, you will like to go in company, I hope. You and Grandcourt ought tosee it all. And we will ask Deronda to go found with us. He is morelearned about it than I am." The baronet was in the most complaisant ofhumors.
Gwendolen stole a glance at Deronda, who must have heard what Sir Hugosaid, for he had his face turned toward them helping himself to an_entrée_; but he looked as impassive as a picture. At the notion ofDeronda's showing her and Grandcourt the place which was to be theirs, andwhich she with painful emphasis remembered might have been his (perhaps,if others had acted differently), certain thoughts had rushed in--thoughtsrepeated within her, but now returning on an occasion embarrassingly new;and was conscious of something furtive and awkward in her glance which SirHugo must have noticed. With her usual readiness of resource againstbetrayal, she said, playfully, "You don't know how much I am afraid of Mr.Deronda."
"How's that? Because you think him too learned?" said Sir Hugo, whom thepeculiarity of her glance had not escaped.
"No. It is ever since I first saw him at Leubronn. Because when he came tolook on at the roulette-table, I began to lose. He cast an evil eye on myplay. He didn't approve it. He has told me so. And now whatever I dobefore him, I am afraid he will cast an evil eye upon it."
"Gad! I'm rather afraid of him myself when he doesn't approve," said SirHugo, glancing at Deronda; and then turning his face toward Gwendolen, hesaid less audibly, "I don't think ladies generally object to have his eyesupon them." The baronet's small chronic complaint of facetiousness was atthis moment almost as annoying to Gwendolen as it often was to Deronda.
"I object to any eyes that are critical," she said, in a cool, high voice,with a turn of her neck. "Are there many of these old rooms left in theAbbey?"
"Not many. There is a fine cloistered court with a long gallery above it.But the finest bit of all is turned into stables. It is part of the oldchurch. When I improved the place I made the most of every other bit; butit was out of my reach to change the stables, so the horses have thebenefit of the fine old choir. You must go and see it."
"I shall like to see the horses as well as the building," said Gwendolen.
"Oh, I have no stud to speak of. Grandcourt will look with contempt at myhorses," said Sir Hugo. "I've given up hunting, and go on in a jog-trotway, as becomes an old gentlemen with daughters. The fact is, I went infor doing too much at this place. We all lived at Diplow for two yearswhile the alterations were going on: Do you like Diplow?"
"Not particularly," said Gwendolen, with indifference. One would havethought that the young lady had all her life had more family seats thanshe cared to go to.
"Ah! it will not do after Ryelands," said Sir Hugo, well pleased."Grandcourt, I know, took it for the sake of the hunting. But he foundsomething so much better there," added the baronet, lowering his voice,"that he might well prefer it to any other place in the world."
"It has one attraction for me," said Gwendolen, passing over thiscompliment with a chill smile, "that it is within reach of Offendene."
"I understand that," said Sir Hugo, and then let the subject drop.
What amiable baronet can escape the effect of a strong desire for aparticular possession? Sir Hugo would have been glad that Grandcourt, withor without reason, should prefer any other place to Diplow; but inasmuchas in the pure process of wishing we can always make the conditions of ourgratification benevolent, he did wish that Grandcourt's convenient disgustfor Diplow should not be associated with his marriage with this verycharming bride. Gwendolen was much to the baronet's taste, but, as heobserved afterward to Lady Mallinger, he should never have taken her for ayoung girl who had married beyond her expectations.
Deronda had not heard much of this conversation, having given hisattention elsewhere, but the glimpses he had of Gwendolen's mannerdeepened the impression that it had something newly artificial.
Later, in the drawing-room, Deronda, at somebody's request, sat down tothe piano and sang. Afterward, Mrs. Raymond took his place; and on risinghe observed that Gwendolen had left her seat, and had come to this end ofthe room, as if to listen more fully, but was now standing with her backto every one, apparently contemplating a fine cowled head carved in ivorywhich hung over a small table. He longed to go to her and speak. Whyshould he not obey such an impulse, as he would have done toward any otherlady in the room? Yet he hesitated some moments, observing the gracefullines of her back, but not moving.