Perhaps it's because you were intelligent enough to perceive that Iwas not in love with you in any sort of style.""No, you were always your own self, unwise and reckless and with something in it kindred to mine, if I may say so without offence.""You may say anything without offence.But has it never occurred to your sagacity that I just, simply, loved you?""Just - simply," she repeated in a wistful tone.
"You didn't want to trouble your head about it, is that it?""My poor head.From your tone one might think you yearned to cut it off.No, my dear, I have made up my mind not to lose my head.""You would be astonished to know how little I care for your mind.""Would I? Come and sit on the couch all the same," she said after a moment of hesitation.Then, as I did not move at once, she added with indifference: "You may sit as far away as you like, it's big enough, goodness knows."The light was ebbing slowly out of the rotunda and to my bodily eyes she was beginning to grow shadowy.I sat down on the couch and for a long time no word passed between us.We made no movement.We did not even turn towards each other.All I was conscious of was the softness of the seat which seemed somehow to cause a relaxation of my stern mood, I won't say against my will but without any will on my part.Another thing I was conscious of, strangely enough, was the enormous brass bowl for cigarette ends.
Quietly, with the least possible action, Dona Rita moved it to the other side of her motionless person.Slowly, the fantastic women with butterflies' wings and the slender-limbed youths with the gorgeous pinions on their shoulders were vanishing into their black backgrounds with an effect of silent discretion, leaving us to ourselves.
I felt suddenly extremely exhausted, absolutely overcome with fatigue since I had moved; as if to sit on that Pompeiian chair had been a task almost beyond human strength, a sort of labour that must end in collapse.I fought against it for a moment and then my resistance gave way.Not all at once but as if yielding to an irresistible pressure (for I was not conscious of any irresistible attraction) I found myself with my head resting, with a weight Ifelt must be crushing, on Dona Rita's shoulder which yet did not give way, did not flinch at all.A faint scent of violets filled the tragic emptiness of my head and it seemed impossible to me that I should not cry from sheer weakness.But I remained dry-eyed.Ionly felt myself slipping lower and lower and I caught her round the waist clinging to her not from any intention but purely by instinct.All that time she hadn't stirred.There was only the slight movement of her breathing that showed her to be alive; and with closed eyes I imagined her to be lost in thought, removed by an incredible meditation while I clung to her, to an immense distance from the earth.The distance must have been immense because the silence was so perfect, the feeling as if of eternal stillness.I had a distinct impression of being in contact with an infinity that had the slightest possible rise and fall, was pervaded by a warm, delicate scent of violets and through which came a hand from somewhere to rest lightly on my head.Presently my ear caught the faint and regular pulsation of her heart, firm and quick, infinitely touching in its persistent mystery, disclosing itself into my very ear - and my felicity became complete.
It was a dreamlike state combined with a dreamlike sense of insecurity.Then in that warm and scented infinity, or eternity, in which I rested lost in bliss but ready for any catastrophe, Iheard the distant, hardly audible, and fit to strike terror into the heart, ringing of a bell.At this sound the greatness of spaces departed.I felt the world close about me; the world of darkened walls, of very deep grey dusk against the panes, and Iasked in a pained voice:
"Why did you ring, Rita?"
There was a bell rope within reach of her hand.I had not felt her move, but she said very low:
"I rang for the lights."
"You didn't want the lights."
"It was time," she whispered secretly.
Somewhere within the house a door slammed.I got away from her feeling small and weak as if the best part of me had been torn away and irretrievably lost.Rose must have been somewhere near the door.
"It's abominable," I murmured to the still, idol-like shadow on the couch.
The answer was a hurried, nervous whisper: "I tell you it was time.I rang because I had no strength to push you away."I suffered a moment of giddiness before the door opened, light streamed in, and Rose entered, preceding a man in a green baize apron whom I had never seen, carrying on an enormous tray three Argand lamps fitted into vases of Pompeiian form.Rose distributed them over the room.In the flood of soft light the winged youths and the butterfly women reappeared on the panels, affected, gorgeous, callously unconscious of anything having happened during their absence.Rose attended to the lamp on the nearest mantelpiece, then turned about and asked in a confident undertone.
"Monsieur dine?"
I had lost myself with my elbows on my knees and my head in my hands, but I heard the words distinctly.I heard also the silence which ensued.I sat up and took the responsibility of the answer on myself.
"Impossible.I am going to sea this evening."This was perfectly true only I had totally forgotten it till then.
For the last two days my being was no longer composed of memories but exclusively of sensations of the most absorbing, disturbing, exhausting nature.I was like a man who has been buffeted by the sea or by a mob till he loses all hold on the world in the misery of his helplessness.But now I was recovering.And naturally the first thing I remembered was the fact that I was going to sea.
"You have heard, Rose," Dona Rita said at last with some impatience.
The girl waited a moment longer before she said:
"Oh, yes! There is a man waiting for Monsieur in the hall.Aseaman."
