phyllis of philistia-第25章

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〃Would　it？〃　she　cried。　〃Would　all　be　well？　Would　it　be　well　with　my　soul？　Would　it　be　well　with　both　of　us　in　the　future？　Would　it　be　well　with　my　husband？〃

He　laughed。

〃I　know　your　husband；〃　he　said。

〃And　I　know　him；　too；〃　said　she。　〃He　cares　for　me　no　more　than　I　care　for　him；　but　he　has　never　been　otherwise　than　kind　to　me。　I　think　of　himI　think　of　him。　I　know　the　name　that　men　give　to　the　man　who　tries　to　make　his　friend's　wife　love　him。　It　is　not　my　husband　who　has　earned　that　name；　Mr。　Courtland。〃

He　looked　into　her　face；　but　he　spoke　no　word。　Even　hethe　loverwas　beginning　to　see；　as　in　a　glass；　darkly；　something　of　the　conflict　that　was　going　on　in　the　heart　of　the　woman　before　him。　She　had　uttered　words　against　him；　and　they　had　stung　him；　and　yet　he　had　a　feeling　that；　if　he　had　put　his　arms　about　her　again；　she　would　have　held　him　close　to　her　as　she　had　done　before；　she　would　have　given　him　kiss　for　kiss　as　she　had　done　before。　It　is　the　decree　of　nature　that　the　lover　shall　think　of　himself　only；　but　had　he　not　told　Phyllis　that　his　belief　was　that　Nature　and　Satan　were　the　same？　He　was　sometimes　able　to　say；　〃/Retro　me；　Sathana/〃not　always。　He　said　it　now；　but　not　boldly；　not　loudlyin　a　whisper。　The　best　way　of　putting　Satan　behind　one　is　to　run　away　from　him。　Resist　the　devil；　and　he　will　flee　from　you。　Yes；　but；　on　the　whole；　it　is　safer　to　show　him　a　clean　pair　of　heels　than　to　enter　on　an　argument　with　him；　hoping　that　he　will　be　amenable　to　logic。　Herbert　Courtland　said　his；　〃/Retro　me/；〃　in　a　whisper；　half　hoping；　as　the　gentlewoman　with　the　muffins　for　sale　hoped；　that　he　would　escape　notice。　For　a　few　moments　he　ceased　to　think　of　himself。　He　thought　of　that　beautiful　thing　before　himshe　was　tall；　and　her　rosy　white　flesh　was　as　a　peach　that　has　reached　its　one　hour　of　ripenesshe　thought　of　her　and　pitied　her。

He　had　not　the　heart　to　put　his　arms　about　her；　though　he　knew　that　to　do　so　would　be　to　give　him　all　the　happiness　for　which　he　longed。　What　was　he　that　he　should　stand　by　and　see　that　struggle　tearing　her　heart　asunder？

〃My　poor　child！〃　said　he；　and　then　he　repeated　his　words；　〃My　poor　child！　It　would　have　been　better　if　we　had　never　come　together。　We　are　going　to　part　now。〃

She　looked　at　him　and　laughed　in　his　face。

He　did　not　know　what　this　meant。　Had　she　been　simply　acting　a　part　all　along？　Had　she　been　playing　a　comedy　part　all　the　while　he　was　thinking　that　a　great　tragedy　was　being　enacted？　Or　was　it　possible　that　she　was　mocking　him？　that　her　laugh　was　the　laugh　of　the　jailer　who　hears　a　prisoner　announce　his　intention　of　walking　out　of　his　cell？

〃Good…by；〃　said　he。

She　fixed　her　eyes　upon　his　face；　then　she　laughed　again。

He　now　knew　what　she　meant　by　her　laugh。

〃Perhaps　you　may　think　that　you　have　too　firm　a　hold　upon　me　to　give　me　a　chance　of　parting　from　you；〃　said　he。　〃You　may　be　right；　but　if　you　tell　me　to　go　I　shall　try　and　obey　you。　But　think　what　it　means　before　you　tell　me　to　leave　you　forever。〃

She　did　think　what　it　meant。　She　looked　at　him；　and　she　thought　of　his　passing　away　from　her　forever　more。　She　wondered　what　her　life　would　be　when　he　should　have　passed　out　of　it。　A　blank？　Oh；　worse　than　a　blank；　for　she　would　have　ever　present　with　her　the　recollection　of　how　he　had　once　stood　before　her　as　he　was　standing　nowtall；　with　his　brown　hands　clenched；　and　a　paleness　underlying　the　tan　of　his　face。　〃The　bravest　man　alive〃that　was　what　Phyllis　had　called　him；　and　Phyllis　had　been　right。　He　was　a　man　who　had　fought　his　way　single…handed　through　such　perils　as　made　those　who　merely　read　about　them　throb　with　anxiety。

This　was　the　man　of　whom　she　knew　that　she　would　ever　retain　a　memory　this　was　the　man　whom　she　was　ready　to　send　back　to　the　uttermost　ends　of　the　earth。

And　this　was　to　be　the　reward　of　his　devotion　to　her！　What　was　she　that　she　could　do　this　thing？　What　was　she　that　she　should　refrain　from　sacrificing　herself　for　him？　She　had　known　women　who　had　sacrificed　themselves　to　mensuch　men！　Wretched　things！　Not　like　that　man　of　men　who　stood　before　her　with　such　a　look　on　his　face　as　it　had　worn；　she　knew；　in　the　most　desperate　moments　of　his　life；　when　the　next　moment　might　bring　death　to　himdeath　from　an　arrowfrom　a　wild　beastfrom　a　hurricane。

What　could　she　do？

She　did　nothing。

She　made　no　effort　to　save　herself。

If　he　had　put　his　arms　about　her　and　had　carried　her　away　from　her　husband's　house　to　the　uttermost　ends　of　the　earth；　she　would　not　have　resisted。　It　was　not　in　her　power　to　resist。

And　it　was　because　he　saw　this　he　went　away；　leaving　her　standing　with　that　lovely　Venetian　mirror　glittering　in　silver　and　ruby　and　emerald　just　above　her　head。

〃You　have　been　right；　I　have　been　wrong；〃　said　he。　〃Don't　try　to　speak；　Ella。　Don't　try　to　keep　me。　I　know　how　you　love　me；　and　I　know　that　if　I　ask　you　to　keep　me　you　will　keep　me　until　you　die。　Forgive　me　for　my　selfishness；　my　beloved。　Good…by。〃

She　felt　him　approach　her　and　she　felt　the　hands　that　he　laid　upon　her　bare　shouldersone　on　each　side　of　her　neck。　She　closed　her　eyes　as　he　put　his　face　down　to　hers　and　kissed　her　on　the　mouthnot　with　rapturous；　passionate　lips；　but　still　with　warm　and　trembling　lips。　She　did　not　know　where　the　kiss　ended；　she　did　not　know　when　his　hands　were　taken　off　her　shoulders。　She　kept　her　eyes　closed　and　her　mouth　sealed。　She　did　not　even　give　him　a　farewell　kiss。

When　she　opened　her　eyes　she　found　herself　alone　in　the　room。

And　then　there　came　to　her　ears　the　sound　of　the　double　whistle　for　a　hansom。　She　stood　silently　there　listening　to　the　driving　up　of　the　vehicleshe　even　heard　the　sound　of　the　closing　of　the　apron　and　then　the　tinkling　of　the　horse's　bells　dwindling　into　the　distance。

A　sense　of　loneliness　came　to　her　that　was　overwhelming　in　its　force。

〃Fool！　fool！　fool！〃　she　cried；　through　her　set　teeth。　〃What　have　I　done？　Sent　him　away？　Sent　him　away？　My　beloved！my　best　belovedmy　man　of　men。　Gonegone！　Oh；　fool！　fool！〃

She　threw　herself　on　a　sofa　and　stared　at　the　Watteau　group　of　masquerading　shepherds　and　shepherdesses　on　the　great　Sevres　vase　that　stood　on　a　pedestal　near　her。　The　masks　at　the　joining　of　the　handles　were　of　grinning　satyrs。　They　were　leering　at　her；　she　thought。　They　alone　were　aware　of　the　good　reason　there　was　for　satyrs　to　grin。　A　woman　had　just　sent　away　from　her；　forever；　the　bravest　man　in　all　the　worldthose　were　Phyllis'　wordsa　king　of　menthe　one　man　who　loved　her　and　whom　she　loved。　She　had　pretended　to　him　that　she　was　subject　to　the　influences　of　religion；　of　honor；　of　duty！　What　hypocrisy！　They　knew　it；　those　leering　creaturesthey　knew　that　she　cared　nothing　for　religion；　that　she　regarded　honor　and　duty　as　words　of　no　meaning　when　such　words　as　love　and　devotion　were　in　the　air。

She　looked　at　the　satyr　masks；　and　had　anyone　been　present　in　the　room；　that　one　would　have　seen　that　her　lovely　face　became　gradually　distorted　until　the　expression　it　wore　was　precisely　the　same　as　that　upon　the　masksan　expression　that　had　its　audible　equivalent　in　the　laugh　which　broke　from　her。

She　lay　back　on　her　broad　cushions。　One　of　the　strands　of　her　splendid　hair　had　become　loose；　and　after　coiling　over　half　a　yard　of　the　brocaded　silk　of　a　cushion；　twisted　its　way　down　to　the　floor。　She　lay　back；　pointing　one　finger　at　the　face　on　the　vase　and　laughing　that　satyr…laugh。

〃We　knowwe　knowwe　know！〃　she　cried；　and　her　voice　was　like　that　of　a　drunken　woman。　〃We　know　allyou　and　Iwe　know　the　hypocrisythe　pretense　of　religionof　honordutya　husband！　Ah；　a　husband！　that　is　the　funniest　of　allthat　husband！　We　know　how　little　we　care　for　them　all。〃

She　continued　laughing　until　her　cushion　slipped　from　under　her　head。　She　half　rose　to　straighten　it；　and　at　that　instant　she　caught　a　glimpse　of　her　face　in　the　center　silvered　panel　of　the　Venetian　mirror。　The　cry　of　horror　that　broke　from　her　at　that　instant　seemed　part　of　her　laugh。　It　would　not　have　occurred　to　anyone　who　might　have　heard　it　that　it　was　otherwise　than　consistent　with　the　incongruity；　so　to　speak；　of　the　existing　elements　of　the　scene。　The　hideous　leer　of　the　thing　with　horns；　looking　down　at　the　exquisite　picture　of　the　/fe