|
||||||||
Down the cobblestones of the quiet street came the ring of a steppers hoofs; they stopped before the house, and he caught the opening of a carriage door. Parting the curtains he looked out into the early dusk. A street-lamp faced him, and in its light he saw Julius Beauforts compact English brougham, drawn by a big roan, and the banker descending from it, and helping out Madame Olenska. Beaufort stood, hat in hand, saying something which his companion seemed to negative; then they shook hands, and he jumped into his carriage while she mounted the steps. When she entered the room she showed no surprise at seeing Archer there; surprise seemed the emotion that she was least addicted to. How do you like my funny house? she asked. To me its like heaven. As she spoke she untied her little velvet bonnet and tossing it away with her long cloak stood looking at him with meditative eyes. Youve arranged it delightfully, he rejoined, alive to the flatness of the words, but imprisoned in the conventional by his consuming desire to be simple and striking. Oh, its a poor little place. My relations despise it. But at any rate its less gloomy than the van der Luydens. The words gave him an electric shock, for few were the rebellious spirits who would have dared to call the stately home of the van der Luydens gloomy. Those privileged to enter it shivered there, and spoke of it as handsome. But suddenly he was glad that she had given voice to the general shiver. Its deliciouswhat youve done here, he repeated. I like the little house, she admitted; but I suppose what I like is the blessedness of its being here, in my own country and my own town; and then, of being alone in it. She spoke so low that he hardly heard the last phrase; but in his awkwardness he took it up. You like so much to be alone? Yes; as long as my friends keep me from feeling lonely. She sat down near the fire, said: Nastasia will bring the tea presently, and signed to him to return to his armchair, adding: I see youve already chosen your corner. Leaning back, she folded her arms behind her head, and looked at the fire under drooping lids. This is the hour I like bestdont you? A proper sense of his dignity caused him to answer: I was afraid youd forgotten the hour. Beaufort must have been very engrossing. She looked amused. Whyhave you waited long? Mr. Beaufort took me to see a number of houses since it seems Im not to be allowed to stay in this one. She appeared to dismiss both Beaufort and himself from her mind, and went on: Ive never been in a city where there seems to be such a feeling against living in des quartiers excentriques. What does it matter where one lives? Im told this street is respectable. Its not fashionable. Fashionable! Do you all think so much of that? Why not make ones own fashions? But I suppose Ive lived too independently; at any rate, I want to do what you all doI want to feel cared for and safe. |
||||||||
|
||||||||
|
||||||||
Copyright: All texts on Bibliomania are © Bibliomania.com Ltd, and may not be reproduced in any form without our written permission. See our FAQ for more details. | ||||||||