第93章
- The Arrow of Gold
- Joseph Conrad
- 924字
- 2016-03-02 16:33:21
"Oh, yes! The eternal why.Till a few hours ago I didn't know what I was here for.And what are you here for?" I asked point blank and with a bitterness she disregarded.She even answered my question quite readily with many words out of which I could make very little.I only learned that for at least five mixed reasons, none of which impressed me profoundly, Dona Rita had started at a moment's notice from Paris with nothing but a dressing-bag, and permitting Rose to go and visit her aged parents for two days, and then follow her mistress.That girl of late had looked so perturbed and worried that the sensitive Rita, fearing that she was tired of her place, proposed to settle a sum of money on her which would have enabled her to devote herself entirely to her aged parents.And did I know what that extraordinary girl said? She had said: "Don't let Madame think that I would be too proud to accept anything whatever from her; but I can't even dream of leaving Madame.I believe Madame has no friends.Not one." So instead of a large sum of money Dona Rita gave the girl a kiss and as she had been worried by several people who wanted her to go to Tolosa she bolted down this way just to get clear of all those busybodies."Hide from them," she went on with ardour."Yes, Icame here to hide," she repeated twice as if delighted at last to have hit on that reason among so many others."How could I tell that you would be here?" Then with sudden fire which only added to the delight with which I had been watching the play of her physiognomy she added: "Why did you come into this room?"She enchanted me.The ardent modulations of the sound, the slight play of the beautiful lips, the still, deep sapphire gleam in those long eyes inherited from the dawn of ages and that seemed always to watch unimaginable things, that underlying faint ripple of gaiety that played under all her moods as though it had been a gift from the high gods moved to pity for this lonely mortal, all this within the four walls and displayed for me alone gave me the sense of almost intolerable joy.The words didn't matter.They had to be answered, of course.
"I came in for several reasons.One of them is that I didn't know you were here.""Therese didn't tell you?"
"No."
"Never talked to you about me?"
I hesitated only for a moment."Never," I said.Then I asked in my turn, "Did she tell you I was here?""No," she said.
"It's very clear she did not mean us to come together again.""Neither did I, my dear."
"What do you mean by speaking like this, in this tone, in these words? You seem to use them as if they were a sort of formula.Am I a dear to you? Or is anybody?...or everybody?..."She had been for some time raised on her elbow, but then as if something had happened to her vitality she sank down till her head rested again on the sofa cushion.
"Why do you try to hurt my feelings?" she asked.
"For the same reason for which you call me dear at the end of a sentence like that: for want of something more amusing to do.You don't pretend to make me believe that you do it for any sort of reason that a decent person would confess to."The colour had gone from her face; but a fit of wickedness was on me and I pursued, "What are the motives of your speeches? What prompts your actions? On your own showing your life seems to be a continuous running away.You have just run away from Paris.Where will you run to-morrow? What are you everlastingly running from -or is it that you are running after something? What is it? A man, a phantom - or some sensation that you don't like to own to?"Truth to say, I was abashed by the silence which was her only answer to this sally.I said to myself that I would not let my natural anger, my just fury be disarmed by any assumption of pathos or dignity.I suppose I was really out of my mind and what in the middle ages would have been called "possessed" by an evil spirit.
I went on enjoying my own villainy.
"Why aren't you in Tolosa? You ought to be in Tolosa.Isn't Tolosa the proper field for your abilities, for your sympathies, for your profusions, for your generosities - the king without a crown, the man without a fortune! But here there is nothing worthy of your talents.No, there is no longer anything worth any sort of trouble here.There isn't even that ridiculous Monsieur George.Iunderstand that the talk of the coast from here to Cette is that Monsieur George is drowned.Upon my word I believe he is.And serve him right, too.There's Therese, but I don't suppose that your love for your sister...""For goodness' sake don't let her come in and find you here."Those words recalled me to myself, exorcised the evil spirit by the mere enchanting power of the voice.They were also impressive by their suggestion of something practical, utilitarian, and remote from sentiment.The evil spirit left me and I remained taken aback slightly.