the new machiavelli-第93章

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〃I　want　to　begin　over　again。〃



I　bowed　my　head　to　hide　my　face；　and　found　her　hand　in　mine　and　

kissed　it。



〃Ah！〃　she　said；　and　slowly　withdrew　her　hand。　　She　leant　forward　

with　her　arm　on　the　sofa…back；　and　looked　very　intently　into　my　

face。　　I　felt　the　most　damnable　scoundrel　in　the　world　as　I　returned　

her　gaze。　　The　thought　of　Isabel's　darkly　shining　eyes　seemed　like　a　

physical　presence　between　us。　。　。　。



〃Tell　me；〃　I　said　presently；　to　break　the　intolerable　tension；　〃tell　

me　plainly　what　you　mean　by　this。〃



I　sat　a　little　away　from　her；　and　then　took　my　teacup　in　hand；　with　

an　odd　effect　of　defending　myself。　　〃Have　you　been　reading　that　old　

book　of　mine？〃　I　asked。



〃That　and　the　paper。　　I　took　a　complete　set　from　the　beginning　down　

to　Durham　with　me。　　I　have　read　it　over；　thought　it　over。　　I　didn't　

understandwhat　you　were　teaching。〃



There　was　a　little　pause。



〃It　all　seems　so　plain　to　me　now；〃　she　said；　〃and　so　true。〃



I　was　profoundly　disconcerted。　　I　put　down　my　teacup；　stood　up　in　

the　middle　of　the　hearthrug；　and　began　talking。　　〃I'm　tremendously　

glad；　Margaret；　that　you've　come　to　see　I'm　not　altogether　

perverse；〃　I　began。　　I　launched　out　into　a　rather　trite　and　windy　

exposition　of　my　views；　and　she　sat　close　to　me　on　the　sofa；　looking　

up　into　my　face；　hanging　on　my　words；　a　deliberate　and　invincible　

convert。



〃Yes；〃　she　said；　〃yes。〃　。　。　。



I　had　never　doubted　my　new　conceptions　before；　now　I　doubted　them　

profoundly。　　But　I　went　on　talking。　　It's　the　grim　irony　in　the　

lives　of　all　politicians；　writers；　public　teachers；　that　once　the　

audience　is　at　their　feet；　a　new　loyalty　has　gripped　them。　　It　isn't　

their　business　to　admit　doubt　and　imperfections。　　They　have　to　go　on　

talking。　　And　I　was　now　so　accustomed　to　Isabel's　vivid　interruptions；　

qualifications；　restatements；　and　confirmations。　。　。　。



Margaret　and　I　dined　together　at　home。　　She　made　me　open　out　my　

political　projects　to　her。　　〃I　have　been　foolish；〃　she　said。　　〃I　

want　to　help。〃



And　by　some　excuse　I　have　forgotten　she　made　me　come　to　her　room。　　I　

think　it　was　some　book　I　had　to　take　her；　some　American　book　I　had　

brought　back　with　me；　and　mentioned　in　our　talk。　　I　walked　in　with　

it；　and　put　it　down　on　the　table　and　turned　to　go。



〃Husband！〃　she　cried；　and　held　out　her　slender　arms　to　me。　　I　was　

compelled　to　go　to　her　and　kiss　her；　and　she　twined　them　softly　

about　my　neck　and　drew　me　to　her　and　kissed　me。　　I　disentangled　them　

very　gently；　and　took　each　wrist　and　kissed　it；　and　the　backs　of　her　

hands。



〃Good…night；〃　I　said。　　There　came　a　little　pause。　　〃Good…night；　

Margaret；〃　I　repeated；　and　walked　very　deliberately　and　with　a　kind　

of　sham　preoccupation　to　the　door。



I　did　not　look　at　her；　but　I　could　feel　her　standing；　watching　me。　　

If　I　had　looked　up；　she　would；　I　knew；　have　held　out　her　arms　to　

me。　。　。　。



At　the　very　outset　that　secret；　which　was　to　touch　no　one　but　Isabel　

and　myself；　had　reached　out　to　stab　another　human　being。







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The　whole　world　had　changed　for　Isabel　and　me；　and　we　tried　to　

pretend　that　nothing　had　changed　except　a　small　matter　between　us。　　

We　believed　quite　honestly　at　that　time　that　it　was　possible　to　keep　

this　thing　that　had　happened　from　any　reaction　at　all；　save　perhaps　

through　some　magically　enhanced　vigour　in　our　work；　upon　the　world　

about　us！　　Seen　in　retrospect；　one　can　realise　the　absurdity　of　this　

belief；　within　a　week　I　realised　it；　but　that　does　not　alter　the　

fact　that　we　did　believe　as　much；　and　that　people　who　are　deeply　in　

love　and　unable　to　marry　will　continue　to　believe　so　to　the　very　end　

of　time。　　They　will　continue　to　believe　out　of　existence　every　

consideration　that　separates　them　until　they　have　come　together。　　

Then　they　will　count　the　cost；　as　we　two　had　to　do。



I　am　telling　a　story；　and　not　propounding　theories　in　this　book；　and　

chiefly　I　am　telling　of　the　ideas　and　influences　and　emotions　that　

have　happened　to　meme　as　a　sort　of　sounding　board　for　my　world。　　

The　moralist　is　at　liberty　to　go　over　my　conduct　with　his　measure　

and　say；　〃At　this　point　or　at　that　you　went　wrong；　and　you　ought　to　

have　done〃so…and…so。　　The　point　of　interest　to　the　statesman　is　

that　it　didn't　for　a　moment　occur　to　us　to　do　so…and…so　when　the　

time　for　doing　it　came。　　It　amazes　me　now　to　think　how　little　either　

of　us　troubled　about　the　established　rights　or　wrongs　of　the　

situation。　　We　hadn't　an　atom　of　respect　for　them；　innate　or　

acquired。　　The　guardians　of　public　morals　will　say　we　were　very　bad　

people；　I　submit　in　defence　that　they　are　very　bad　guardians

provocative　guardians。　。　。　。　　And　when　at　last　there　came　a　claim　

against　us　that　had　an　effective　validity　for　us；　we　were　in　the　

full　tide　of　passionate　intimacy。



I　had　a　night　of　nearly　sleepless　perplexity　after　Margaret's　

return。　　She　had　suddenly　presented　herself　to　me　like　something　

dramatically　recalled；　fine；　generous；　infinitely　capable　of　

feeling。　　I　was　amazed　how　much　I　had　forgotten　her。　　In　my　contempt　

for　vulgarised　and　conventionalised　honour　I　had　forgotten　that　for　

me　there　was　such　a　reality　as　honour。　　And　here　it　was；　warm　and　

near　to　me；　living；　breathing；　unsuspecting。　　Margaret's　pride　was　

my　honour；　that　I　had　had　no　right　even　to　imperil。



I　do　not　now　remember　if　I　thought　at　that　time　of　going　to　Isabel　

and　putting　this　new　aspect　of　the　case　before　her。　　Perhaps　I　did。　　

Perhaps　I　may　have　considered　even　then　the　possibility　of　ending　

what　had　so　freshly　and　passionately　begun。　　If　I　did；　it　vanished　

next　day　at　the　sight　of　her。　　Whatever　regrets　came　in　the　

darkness；　the　daylight　brought　an　obstinate　confidence　in　our　

resolution　again。　　We　would；　we　declared；　〃pull　the　thing　off。〃　　

Margaret　must　not　know。　　Margaret　should　not　know。　　If　Margaret　did　

not　know；　then　no　harm　whatever　would　be　done。　　We　tried　to　sustain　

that。　。　。　。



For　a　brief　time　we　had　been　like　two　people　in　a　magic　cell；　

magically　cut　off　from　the　world　and　full　of　a　light　of　its　own；　and　

then　we　began　to　realise　that　we　were　not　in　the　least　cut　off；　that　

the　world　was　all　about　us　and　pressing　in　upon　us；　limiting　us；　

threatening　us；　resuming　possession　of　us。　　I　tried　to　ignore　the　

injury　to　Margaret　of　her　unreciprocated　advances。　　I　tried　to　

maintain　to　myself　that　this　hidden　love　made　no　difference　to　the　

now　irreparable　breach　between　husband　and　wife。　　But　I　never　spoke　

of　it　to　Isabel　or　let　her　see　that　aspect　of　our　case。　　How　could　

I？　　The　time　for　that　had　gone。　。　。　。



Then　in　new　shapes　and　relations　came　trouble。　　Distressful　elements　

crept　in　by　reason　of　our　unavoidable　furtiveness；　we　ignored　them；　

hid　them　from　each　other；　and　attempted　to　hide　them　from　ourselves。　　

Successful　love　is　a　thing　of　abounding　pride；　and　we　had　to　be　

secret。　　It　was　delightful　at　first　to　be　secret；　a　whispering；　warm　

conspiracy；　then　presently　it　became　irksome　and　a　little　shameful。　　

Her　essential　frankness　of　soul　was　all　against　the　masks　and　

falsehoods　that　many　women　would　have　enjoyed。　　Together　in　our　

secrecy　we　relaxed；　then　in　the　presence　of　other　people　again　it　

was　tiresome　to　have　to　watch　for　the　careless；　too　easy　phrase；　to　

snatch　back　one's　hand　from　the　limitless　betrayal　of　a　light；　

familiar　touch。



Love　becomes　a　poor　thing；　at　best　a　poor　beautiful　thing；　if　it　

develops　no　continuing　and　habitual　intimacy。　　We　were　always　

meeting；　and　most　gloriously　loving　and　beginningand　then　we　had　

to　snatch　at　remorseless　ticking　watches；　hurry　to　catch　trains；　and　

go　back　to　this　or　that。　　That　is　all　very　well　for　the　intrigues　of　

idle　people　perhaps；　but　not　for　an　intense　personal　relationship。　　

It　is　like　lighting　a　candle　for　the　sake　of　lighting　it；　over　and　

over　again；　and　each　time　blowing　it　out。　　That；　no　doubt；　mus