the quest of the golden girl-第31章

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！



For　answer　Sylvia　hummed　the　first　verse　of　that　famous　song　writ　by　Kit　Marlowe。

〃Yes！〃　she　said　presently。　　〃I　will　sing　for　you；　dance　for　you；　andperhapsflirt　with　you；　but　marry　youno！　it's　best　not；　for　both　of　us。〃

〃Well；　then；〃　I　said；　〃dance　for　me！　　You　owe　me　some　amends　for　an　aching　heart。〃　As　I　said　this；　the　path　suddenly　broadened　into　a　little　circular　glade　into　which　the　moonlight　poured　in　a　silver　flood。　　In　the　centre　of　the　space　was　a　boulder　some　three　or　four　feet　high；　and　with　a　flat　slab…like　surface　of　some　six　feet　or　so。

〃I　declare　I　will；〃　said　Sylvia；　giving　me　an　impulsive　kiss；　and　springing　on　to　the　stone；　〃why；　here　is　a　ready…made　stage。〃

〃And　there；〃　I　said；　〃are　the　nightingale　and　the　nightjar　for　orchestra。〃

〃And　there　is　the　moon；〃　said　she；　〃for　lime…light　man。〃

〃Yes；〃　I　said；　〃and　here　is　a　handful　of　glow…worms　for　the　footlights。〃

Then　lifting　up　her　heavy　silk　skirt　about　her；　and　revealing　a　paradise　of　chiffons；　Sylvia　swayed　for　a　moment　with　her　face　full　in　the　moon；　and　then　slowly　glided　into　the　movements　of　a　mystical　dance。

It　was　thus　the　fountains　were　dancing　to　the　moon　in　Arabia；　it　was　thus　the　Nixies　shook　their　white　limbs　on　the　haunted　banks　of　the　Rhine；　it　was　thus　the　fairy　women　flashed　their　alabaster　feet　on　the　fairy　hills　of　Connemara；　it　was　thus　the　Houris　were　dancing　for　Mahomet　on　the　palace　floors　of　Paradise。

〃It　was　over　such　dancing；〃　I　said；　〃that　John　the　Baptist　lost　his　head。〃

〃Give　me　a　kiss；〃　she　said；　nestling　exhausted　in　my　arms。　　〃I　always　want　some　one　to　kiss　when　I　have　danced　with　my　soul　as　well　as　my　body。〃

〃I　think　we　always　do；〃　I　said；　〃when　we've　done　anything　that　seems　wonderful；　that　gives　us　the　thrill　of　really　doing〃

〃And　a　poor　excuse　is　better　than　none；　isn't　it；　dear？〃　said　Sylvia；　her　face　full　in　the　cataract　of　the　moonlight。

As　a　conclusion　for　this　chapter　I　will　copy　out　a　little　song　which　I　extemporised　for　Sylvia　on　our　way　home　to　Yellowsands　too　artlessly　happy；　it　will　be　observed；　to　rhyme　correctly：


Sylvia's　dancing　'neath　the　moon；　　　　Like　a　star　in　water；　　Sylvia's　dancing　to　a　tune　　　　Fairy　folk　have　taught　her。

Glow…worms　light　her　little　feet　　　　In　her　fairy　theatre；　Oh；　but　Sylvia　is　sweet！　　　　Tell　me　who　is　sweeter！



CHAPTER　XII


AT　THE　CAFE　DE　LA　PAIX

As　love…making　in　which　we　have　no　share　is　apt　to　be　either　tantalising　or　monotonous；　I　propose　to　skip　the　next　fortnight　and　introduce　myself　to　the　reader　at　a　moment　when　I　am　once　more　alone。　　It　is　about　six　o'clock　on　a　summer　afternoon；　I　am　in　Paris；　and　seated　at　one　of　the　little　marble　tables　of　the　Cafe　de　la　Paix；　dreamily　watching　the　glittering　tide　of　gay　folk　passing　by；


　　　　　〃All　happy　people　on　their　way　　　　　　　To　make　a　golden　end　of　day。〃


Meditatively　I　smoke　a　cigarette　and　sip　a　pale　greenish　liquor　smelling　strongly　of　aniseed；　which　isn't　half　so　interesting　as　a　commonplace　whiskey　and　soda；　but　which；　I　am　told；　has　the　recommendation　of　being　ten　times　as　wicked。　　I　sip　it　with　a　delicious　thrill　of　degeneration；　as　though　I　were　Eve　tasting　the　apple　for　the　first　time；for　〃such　a　power　hath　white　simplicity。〃　　Sin　is　for　the　innocent；a　truth　which　sinners　will　be　the　first　to　regret。　　It　was　so；　I　said　to　myself；　Alfred　de　Musset　used　to　sit　and　sip　his　absinthe　before　a　fascinated　world。　　It　is　a　privilege　for　the　world　to　look　on　greatness　at　any　moment；　even　when　it　is　drinking。　So　I　sat；　and　privileged　the　world。

It　will　readily　be　surmised　from　this　exordium　thatincredible　as　it　may　seem　in　a　man　of　thirtythis　was　my　first　visit　to　Paris。　　You　may　remember　that　I　had　bought　Orlando's　tickets；　and　it　had　occurred　to　Sylvia　and　me　to　use　them。　　Sylvia　was　due　in　London　to　fulfil　a　dancing　engagement　within　a　fortnight　after　our　arrival；　so　after　a　tender　good…bye；　which　there　was　no　earthly　necessity　to　make　final；　I　had　remained　behind　for　the　purposes　of　study。　　Though；　logically；　my　pilgrimage　had　ended　with　the　unexpected　discovery　of　Sylvia　Joy；　yet　there　were　two　famous　feminine　types　of　which；　seeing　that　I　was　in　Paris；　I　thought　I　might　as　well　make　brief　studies；　before　I　returned　to　London　and　finally　resumed　the　bachelorhood　from　which　I　had　started。　　These　were　the　grisette　of　fiction　and　the　American　girl　of　fact。　　Pending　these　investigations；　I　meditated　on　the　great　city　in　the　midst　of　which　I　sat。

A　city！　　How　much　more　it　was　than　that！　Was　it　not　the　most　portentous　symbol　of　modern　history？　　Think　what　the　word　〃Paris〃　means　to　the　emancipated　intellect；　to　the　political　government；　to　the　humanised　morals；　of　the　world；　not　to　speak　of　the　romance　of　its　literature；　the　tradition　of　its　manners；　and　the　immortal　fame　of　its　women。　France　is　the　brain　of　the　world；　as　England　is　its　heart；　and　Russia　its　fist。　　Strange　is　the　power；　strange　are　the　freaks　and　revenges；　of　association；　particularly　perhaps　of　literary　association。　　Here　pompous　official　representatives　may　demur；　but　who　can　doubt　that　it　is　on　its　literature　that　a　country　must　rely　for　its　permanent　representation？　The　countries　that　are　forgotten；　or　are　of　no　importance　in　the　councils　of　the　world；　are　countries　without　literature。　　Greece　and　Rome　are　more　real　in　print　than　ever　they　were　in　marble。　　Though；　as　we　know；　prophets　are　not　without　honour　save　in　their　own　countries　and　among　their　own　kindred；　the　time　comes　when　their　countries　and　kindred　are　entirely　without　honour　save　by　reason　of　those　very　prophets　they　once　despised；　rejected；　stoned；　and　crucified。　Subtract　its　great　men　from　a　nation；　and　where　is　its　greatness？

Similarly；　everything；　however　trifling；　that　has　been　written　about；　so　long　as　it　has　been　written　about　sufficiently　well；　becomes　relatively　enduring　and　representative　of　the　country　in　which　it　is　found。　　To　an　American；　for　example；　the　significance　of　a　skylark　is　that　Shelley　sang　it　to　skies　where　even　it　could　never　have　mounted；　and　any　one　who　has　heard　the　nightingale　must；　if　he　be　open…minded；　confess　its　tremendous　debt　to　Keats：　a　tenth　part　genuine　song；　the　rest　moon；　stars；　silence；　and　John　Keats；such　is　the　nightingale。　　The　real　truth　about　a　country　will　never　be　known　till　every　representative　type　and　condition　in　it　have　found　their　inspired　literary　mouthpiece。　　Meanwhile　one　country　takes　its　opinion　of　another　from　the　apercus　of　a　few　brilliant　but　often　irresponsible　or　prejudiced　writers；and　really　it　is　rather　in　what　those　writers　leave　out　than　in　what　they　put　in　that　one　must　seek　the　more　reliable　data　of　national　character。　

A　quaint　example　of　association　occurs　to　me　from　the　experience　of　a　friend　of　mine；　〃rich　enough　to　lend　to　the　poor。〃　　Having　met　an　American　friend　newly　landed　at　Liverpool；　and　a　hurried　quarter　of　an　hour　being　all　that　was　available　for　lunch；　〃Come　let　us　have　a　pork…pie　and　a　bottle　of　Bass〃　he　had　suggested。

〃Pork…pies！〃　said　the　American；　with　a　delighted　sense　of　discovering　the　country；〃why；　you　read　about　them　in　Dickens！〃　Who　shall　say　but　that　this　instinctive　association　was　an　involuntary　severe；　but　not　inapplicable；　criticism？　　A　nightingale　suggests　Keats；　a　pork…pie；　Dickens。

Similarly　with　absinthe；　grisettes；　the　Latin　Quarter；　and　so　on。

Why；　you　read　about　them　in　Murger；　in　Musset；　in　Balzac；　and　in　Flaubert；　and　the　fact　of　your　having　read　about　them　is；　I　may　add；　their　chief　importance。

So　rambled　my　after…dinner　reflections　as　I　sat　that　evening　smoking　and　sipping；　sipping　and　smoking；　at　the　Cafe　de　la　Paix。

Presently　in　my　dream　I　became　aware　of　English　voices　near　me；　one　of　which　seemed　familiar；　and　which　I　couldn't　help　overhearing。　　The　voice　of　the　husband　said；you　can　never　mistake　the　voice　of　the　husband；

　　　'T　was　the　voice　of　the　husband；　　　　　I　heard　him　complain；


the　voice　of　the　husband　said：　　〃Dora；　I　forbid　you！　　I　will　NOT　allow　my　wife　to　be　seen　again　in　the　Latin　Quarter。　　I　permitted　you　to　go　once；　as　a　concession；　to　the　Cafe　d'Harcourt；　but　once　is　enough。　You　will　please　respect　my　wishes！〃

〃But；〃　pleaded　the　dear　little　woman；　whom　I　had　an　immediate　impulse；　Pe