Daniel Deronda
乔治.艾略特 George Eliot
CHAPTER XXXV. Page 2
"Will you not join in the music?" he said by way of meeting the necessityfor speech.
That her look of confession had been involuntary was shown by that justperceptible shake and change of countenance with which she roused herselfto reply calmly, "I join in it by listening. I am fond of music."
"Are you not a musician?"
"I have given a great deal of time to music. But I have not talent enoughto make it worth while. I shall never sing again."
"But if you are fond of music, it will always be worth while in private,for your own delight. I make it a virtue to be content with mymiddlingness," said Deronda, smiling; "it is always pardonable, so thatone does not ask others to take it for superiority."
"I cannot imitate you," said Gwendolen, recovering her tone of artificialvivacity. "To be middling with me is another phrase for being dull. Andthe worst fault I have to find with the world is, that it is dull. Do youknow, I am going to justify gambling in spite of you. It is a refuge fromdullness."
"I don't admit the justification," said Deronda. "I think what we call thedullness of things is a disease in ourselves. Else how can any one find anintense interest in life? And many do."
"Ah, I see! The fault I find in the world is my own fault," saidGwendolen, smiling at him. Then after a moment, looking up at the ivoryagain, she said, "Do _you_ never find fault with the world or withothers?"
"Oh, yes. When I am in a grumbling mood."
"And hate people? Confess you hate them when they stand in your way--whentheir gain is your loss? That is your own phrase, you know."
"We are often standing in each other's way when we can't help it. I thinkit is stupid to hate people on that ground."
"But if they injure you and could have helped it?" said Gwendolen with ahard intensity unaccountable in incidental talk like this.
Deronda wondered at her choice of subjects. A painful impression arrestedhis answer a moment, but at last he said, with a graver, deeperintonation, "Why, then, after all, I prefer my place to theirs."
"There I believe you are right," said Gwendolen, with a sudden littlelaugh, and turned to join the group at the piano.
Deronda looked around for Grandcourt, wondering whether he followed hisbride's movements with any attention; but it was rather undiscerning tohim to suppose that he could find out the fact. Grandcourt had a delusivemood of observing whatever had an interest for him, which could besurpassed by no sleepy-eyed animal on the watch for prey. At that momenthe was plunged in the depth of an easy chair, being talked to by Mr.Vandernoodt, who apparently thought the acquaintance of such a bridegroomworth cultivating; and an incautious person might have supposed it safe totelegraph secrets in front of him, the common prejudice being that yourquick observer is one whose eyes have quick movements. Not at all. If youwant a respectable witness who will see nothing inconvenient, choose avivacious gentleman, very much on the alert, with two eyes wide open, aglass in one of them, and an entire impartiality as to the purpose oflooking. If Grandcourt cared to keep any one under his power he saw themout of the corners of his long narrow eyes, and if they went behind him hehad a constructive process by which he knew what they were doing there. Heknew perfectly well where his wife was, and how she was behaving. Was hegoing to be a jealous husband? Deronda imagined that to be likely; but hisimagination was as much astray about Grandcourt as it would have beenabout an unexplored continent where all the species were peculiar. He didnot conceive that he himself was a likely subject of jealousy, or that heshould give any pretext for it; but the suspicion that a wife is not happynaturally leads one to speculate on the husband's private deportment; andDeronda found himself after one o'clock in the morning in the ratherludicrous position of sitting up severely holding a Hebrew grammar in hishands (for somehow, in deference to Mordecai, he had begun to studyHebrew), with the consciousness that he had been in that attitude nearlyan hour, and had thought of nothing but Gwendolen and her husband. To bean unusual young man means for the most part to get a difficult masteryover the usual, which is often like the sprite of ill-luck you pack upyour goods to escape from, and see grinning at you from the top of yourluggage van. The peculiarities of Deronda's nature had been acutelytouched by the brief incident and words which made the history of hisintercourse with Gwendolen; and this evening's slight addition had giventhem an importunate recurrence. It was not vanity--it was ready sympathythat had made him alive to a certain appealingness in her behavior towardhim; and the difficulty with which she had seemed to raise her eyes to bowto him, in the first instance, was to be interpreted now by thatunmistakable look of involuntary confidence which she had afterward turnedon him under the consciousness of his approach.
"What is the use of it all?" thought Deronda, as he threw down hisgrammar, and began to undress. "I can't do anything to help her--nobodycan, if she has found out her mistake already. And it seems to me that shehas a dreary lack of the ideas that might help her. Strange and piteous tohuman flesh like that might be, wrapped round with fine raiment, her earspierced for gems, her head held loftily, her mouth all smiling pretence,the poor soul within her sitting in sick distaste of all things! But whatdo I know of her? There may be a demon in her to match the worst husband,for what I can tell. She was clearly an ill-educated, worldly girl:perhaps she is a coquette."
This last reflection, not much believed in, was a self-administered doseof caution, prompted partly by Sir Hugo's much-contemned joking on thesubject of flirtation. Deronda resolved not to volunteer any _tete-à-tete_with Gwendolen during the days of her stay at the Abbey; and he wascapable of keeping a resolve in spite of much inclination to the contrary.
But a man cannot resolve about a woman's actions, least of all about thoseof a woman like Gwendolen, in whose nature there was a combination ofproud reserve with rashness, of perilously poised terror with defiance,which might alternately flatter and disappoint control. Few words couldless represent her than "coquette." She had native love of homage, andbelief in her own power; but no cold artifice for the sake of enslaving.And the poor thing's belief in her power, with her other dreams beforemarriage, had often to be thrust aside now like the toys of a sick child,which it looks at with dull eyes, and has no heart to play with, howeverit may try.
The next day at lunch Sir Hugo said to her, "The thaw has gone on likemagic, and it's so pleasant out of doors just now--shall we go and see thestables and the other odd bits about the place?"
"Yes, pray," said Gwendolen. "You will like to see the stables, Henleigh?"she added, looking at her husband.
"Uncommonly," said Grandcourt, with an indifference which seemed to giveirony to the word, as he returned her look. It was the first time Derondahad seen them speak to each other since their arrival, and he thoughttheir exchange of looks as cold or official as if it had been a a ceremonyto keep up a charter. Still, the English fondness for reserve will accountfor much negation; and Grandcourt's manners with an extra veil of reserveover them might be expected to present the extreme type of the nationaltaste.
"Who else is inclined to make the tour of the house and premises?" saidSir Hugo. "The ladies must muffle themselves; there is only just abouttime to do it well before sunset. You will go, Dan, won't you?"
"Oh, yes," said Deronda, carelessly, knowing that Sir Hugo would think anyexcuse disobliging.
"All meet in the library, then, when they are ready--say in half an hour,"said the baronet. Gwendolen made herself ready with wonderful quickness,and in ten minutes came down into the library in her sables, plume, andlittle thick boots. As soon as she entered the room she was aware thatsome one else was there: it was precisely what she had hoped for. Derondawas standing with his back toward her at the far end of the room, and waslooking over a newspaper. How could little thick boots make any noise onan Axminster carpet? And to cough would have seemed an intended signalingwhich her pride could not condescend to; also, she felt bashful aboutwalking up to him and letting him know that she was there, though it washer hunger to speak to him which had set her imagination on constructingthis chance of finding him, and had made her hurry down, as birds hovernear the water which they dare not drink. Always uneasily dubious abouthis opinion of her, she felt a peculiar anxiety to-day, lest he mightthink of her with contempt, as one triumphantly conscious of beingGrandcourt's wife, the future lady of this domain. It was her habitualeffort now to magnify the satisfactions of her pride, on which shenourished her strength; but somehow Deronda's being there disturbed themall. There was not the faintest touch of coquetry in the attitude of hermind toward him: he was unique to her among men, because he had impressedher as being not her admirer but her superior: in some mysterious way hewas becoming a part of her conscience, as one woman whose nature is anobject of reverential belief may become a new conscience to a man.
And now he would not look round and find out that she was there! The papercrackled in his hand, his head rose and sank, exploring those stupidcolumns, and he was evidently stroking his beard; as if this world were avery easy affair to her. Of course all the rest of the company would soonbe down, and the opportunity of her saying something to efface herflippancy of the evening before, would be quite gone. She felt sick withirritation--so fast do young creatures like her absorb misery throughinvisible suckers of their own fancies--and her face had gathered thatpeculiar expression which comes with a mortification to which tears areforbidden.
At last he threw down the paper and turned round.
"Oh, you are there already," he said, coming forward a step or two: "Imust go and put on my coat."
ever existed."speaking with determination.
He turned aside and walked out of the room. This was behaving quite badly.Mere politeness would have made him stay to exchange some words beforeleaving her alone. It was true that Grandcourt came in with Sir Hugoimmediately after, so that the words must have been too few to be worthanything. As it was, they saw him walking from the library door.
"A--you look rather ill," said Grandcourt, going straight up to her,standing in front of her, and looking into her eyes. "Do you feel equal tothe walk?"
"Yes, I shall like it," said Gwendolen, without the slightest movementexcept this of the lips.
"We could put off going over the house, you know, and only go out ofdoors," said Sir Hugo, kindly, while Grandcourt turned aside.
"Oh, dear no!" said Gwendolen, speaking with determination; "let us putoff nothing. I want a long walk."
The rest of the walking party--two ladies and two gentlemen besidesDeronda--had now assembled; and Gwendolen rallying, went with duecheerfulness by the side of Sir Hugo, paying apparently an equal attentionto the commentaries Deronda was called upon to give on the variousarchitectural fragments, to Sir Hugo's reasons for not attempting toremedy the mixture of the undisguised modern with the antique--which inhis opinion only made the place the more truly historical. On their way tothe buttery and kitchen they took the outside of the house and pausedbefore a beautiful pointed doorway, which was the only old remnant in theeast front.
"Well, now, to my mind," said Sir Hugo, "that is more interesting standingas it is in the middle of what is frankly four centuries later, than ifthe whole front had been dressed up in a pretense of the thirteenthcentury. Additions ought to smack of the time when they are made and carrythe stamp of their period. I wouldn't destroy any old bits, but thatnotion of reproducing the old is a mistake, I think. At least, if a manlikes to do it he must pay for his whistle. Besides, where are you to stopalong that road--making loopholes where you don't want to peep, and so on?You may as well ask me to wear out the stones with kneeling; eh,Grandcourt?"
"A confounded nuisance," drawled Grandcourt. "I hate fellows wanting tohowl litanies--acting the greatest bores that have ever existed."
"Well, yes, that's what their romanticism must come to," said Sir Hugo, ina tone of confidential assent--"that is if they carry it out logically."
"I think that way of arguing against a course because it may be riddendown to an absurdity would soon bring life to a standstill," said Deronda."It is not the logic of human action, but of a roasting-jack, that must goon to the last turn when it has been once wound up. We can do nothingsafely without some judgment as to where we are to stop."
"I find the rule of the pocket the best guide," said Sir Hugo, laughingly."And as for most of your new-old building, you had need to hire men toscratch and chip it all over artistically to give it an elderly-lookingsurface; which at the present rate of labor would not answer."
with determination; "let us putoff nothing. I want a long walk."though."want a long walk.
"Do you want to keep up the old fashions, then, Mr. Deronda?" saidGwendolen, taking advantage of the freedom of grouping to fall back alittle, while Sir Hugo and Grandcourt went on.
"Some of them. I don't see why we should not use our choice there as we doelsewhere--or why either age or novelty by itself is an argument for oragainst. To delight in doing things because our fathers did them is goodif it shuts out nothing better; it enlarges the range of affection--andaffection is the broadest basis of good in life."
"Do you think so?" said Gwendolen with a little surprise. "I should havethought you cared most about ideas, knowledge, wisdom, and all that."
"But to care about _them_ is a sort of affection," said Deronda, smilingat her sudden _naïveté_. "Call it attachment; interest, willing to bear agreat deal for the sake of being with them and saving them from injury. Ofcourse, it makes a difference if the objects of interest are human beings;but generally in all deep affections the objects are a mixture--halfpersons and half ideas--sentiments and affections flow in together."
"I wonder whether I understand that," said Gwendolen, putting up her chinin her old saucy manner. "I believe I am not very affectionate; perhapsyou mean to tell me, that is the reason why I don't see much good inlife."
"No, I did _not_ mean to tell you that; but I admit that I should think ittrue if I believed what you say of yourself," said Deronda, gravely.
Here Sir Hugo and Grandcourt turned round and paused.
"I never can get Mr. Deronda to pay me a compliment," said Gwendolen. "Ihave quite a curiosity to see whether a little flattery can be extractedfrom him."
"Ah!" said Sir Hugo, glancing at Deronda, "the fact is, it is useless toflatter a bride. We give it up in despair. She has been so fed on sweetspeeches that every thing we say seems tasteless."
"Quite true," said Gwendolen, bending her head and smiling. "Mr.Grandcourt won me by neatly-turned compliments. If there had been one wordout of place it would have been fatal."
"Do you hear that?" said Sir Hugo, looking at the husband.
"Yes," said Grandcourt, without change of countenance. "It's a deucedlyhard thing to keep up, though."
All this seemed to Sir Hugo a natural playfulness between such a husbandand wife; but Deronda wondered at the misleading alternations inGwendolen's manner, which at one moment seemed to excite sympathy bychildlike indiscretion, at another to repel it by proud concealment. Hetried to keep out of her way by devoting himself to Miss Juliet Fenn, ayoung lady whose profile had been so unfavorably decided by circumstancesover which she had no control, that Gwendolen some months ago had felt itimpossible to be jealous of her. Nevertheless, when they were seeing thekitchen--a part of the original building in perfect preservation--thedepth of shadow in the niches of the stone-walls and groined vault, theplay of light from the huge glowing fire on polished tin, brass, andcopper, the fine resonance that came with every sound of voice or metal,were all spoiled for Gwendolen, and Sir Hugo's speech about them was maderather importunate, because Deronda was discoursing to the other ladiesand kept at a distance from her. It did not signify that the othergentlemen took the opportunity of being near her: of what use in the worldwas their admiration while she had an uneasy sense that there was somestandard in Deronda's mind which measured her into littleness? Mr.Vandernoodt, who had the mania of always describing one thing while youwere looking at another, was quite intolerable with his insistence on LordBlough's kitchen, which he had seen in the north.
"Pray don't ask us to see two kitchens at once. It makes the heat double.I must really go out of it," she cried at last, marching resolutely intothe open air, and leaving the others in the rear. Grandcourt was alreadyout, and as she joined him, he said--
"I wondered how long you meant to stay in that damned place"--one of thefreedoms he had assumed as a husband being the use of his strongestepithets. Gwendolen, turning to see the rest of the party approach, said--
"It was certainly rather too warm in one's wraps."
They walked on the gravel across a green court, where the snow still layin islets on the grass, and in masses on the boughs of the great cedar andthe crenelated coping of the stone walls, and then into a larger court,where there was another cedar, to find the beautiful choir long ago turnedinto stables, in the first instance perhaps after an impromptu fashion bytroopers, who had a pious satisfaction in insulting the priests of Baaland the images of Ashtoreth, the queen of heaven. The exterior--its westend, save for the stable door, walled in with brick and covered with ivy--was much defaced, maimed of finial and gurgoyle, the friable limestonebroken and fretted, and lending its soft gray to a powdery dark lichen;the long windows, too, were filled in with brick as far as the springingof the arches, the broad clerestory windows with wire or ventilatingblinds. With the low wintry afternoon sun upon it, sending shadows fromthe cedar boughs, and lighting up the touches of snow remaining on everyledge, it had still a scarcely disturbed aspect of antique solemnity,which gave the scene in the interior rather a startling effect; though,ecclesiastical or reverential indignation apart, the eyes could hardlyhelp dwelling with pleasure on its piquant picturesqueness. Each finely-arched chapel was turned into a stall, where in the dusty glazing of thewindows there still gleamed patches of crimson, orange, blue, and palestviolet; for the rest, the choir had been gutted, the floor leveled, paved,and drained according to the most approved fashion, and a line of looseboxes erected in the middle: a soft light fell from the upper windows onsleek brown or gray flanks and haunches; on mild equine faces looking outwith active nostrils over the varnished brown boarding; on the hay hangingfrom racks where the saints once looked down from the altar-pieces, and onthe pale golden straw scattered or in heaps; on a little white-and-liver-colored spaniel making his bed on the back of an elderly hackney, and onfour ancient angels, still showing signs of devotion like mutilatedmartyrs--while over all, the grand pointed roof, untouched by reformingwash, showed its lines and colors mysteriously through veiling shadow andcobweb, and a hoof now and then striking against the boards seemed to fillthe vault with thunder, while outside there was the answering bay of theblood-hounds.