eugene pickering-第8部分

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for　in　the　midst　of　the　explanation　the　curtain　rose　again。　　〃You

can't　be　a　great　artist　without　a　great　passion！〃　　Madame　Blumenthal

was　affirming。　　Before　I　had　time　to　assent　Madame　Patti's　voice　rose

wheeling　like　a　skylark；　and　rained　down　its　silver　notes。　　〃Ah；　give

me　that　art；〃　I　whispered；　〃and　I　will　leave　you　your　passion！〃　　And

I　departed　for　my　own　place　in　the　orchestra。　　I　wondered　afterwards

whether　the　speech　had　seemed　rude；　and　inferred　that　it　had　not　on

receiving　a　friendly　nod　from　the　lady；　in　the　lobby；　as　the　theatre

was　emptying　itself。　　She　was　on　Pickering's　arm；　and　he　was　taking

her　to　her　carriage。　　Distances　are　short　in　Homburg；　but　the　night

was　rainy；　and　Madame　Blumenthal　exhibited　a　very　pretty　satin…shod

foot　as　a　reason　why；　though　but　a　penniless　widow；　she　should　not

walk　home。　　Pickering　left　us　together　a　moment　while　he　went　to　hail

the　vehicle；　and　my　companion　seized　the　opportunity；　as　she　said；　to

beg　me　to　be　so　very　kind　as　to　come　and　see　her。　　It　was　for　a

particular　reason！　　It　was　reason　enough　for　me；　of　course；　I

answered；　that　she　had　given　me　leave。　　She　looked　at　me　a　moment

with　that　extraordinary　gaze　of　hers　which　seemed　so　absolutely

audacious　in　its　candour；　and　rejoined　that　I　paid　more　compliments

than　our　young　friend　there；　but　that　she　was　sure　I　was　not　half　so

sincere。　　〃But　it's　about　him　I　want　to　talk；〃　she　said。　　〃I　want　to

ask　you　many　things；　I　want　you　to　tell　me　all　about　him。　　He

interests　me；　but　you　see　my　sympathies　are　so　intense；　my

imagination　is　so　lively；　that　I　don't　trust　my　own　impressions。

They　have　misled　me　more　than　once！〃　　And　she　gave　a　little　tragic

shudder。



I　promised　to　come　and　compare　notes　with　her；　and　we　bade　her

farewell　at　her　carriage　door。　　Pickering　and　I　remained　a　while；

walking　up　and　down　the　long　glazed　gallery　of　the　Kursaal。　　I　had

not　taken　many　steps　before　I　became　aware　that　I　was　beside　a　man　in

the　very　extremity　of　love。　　〃Isn't　she　wonderful？〃　he　asked；　with　an

implicit　confidence　in　my　sympathy　which　it　cost　me　some　ingenuity　to

elude。　　If　he　were　really　in　love；　well　and　good！　　For　although；　now

that　I　had　seen　her；　I　stood　ready　to　confess　to　large　possibilities

of　fascination　on　Madame　Blumenthal's　part；　and　even　to　certain

possibilities　of　sincerity　of　which　my　appreciation　was　vague；　yet　it

seemed　to　me　less　ominous　that　he　should　be　simply　smitten　than　that

his　admiration　should　pique　itself　on　being　discriminating。　　It　was

on　his　fundamental　simplicity　that　I　counted　for　a　happy　termination

of　his　experiment；　and　the　former　of　these　alternatives　seemed　to　me

the　simpler。　　I　resolved　to　hold　my　tongue　and　let　him　run　his

course。　　He　had　a　great　deal　to　say　about　his　happiness；　about　the

days　passing　like　hours；　the　hours　like　minutes；　and　about　Madame

Blumenthal　being　a　〃revelation。〃　　〃She　was　nothing　to…night；〃　he

said；　〃nothing　to　what　she　sometimes　is　in　the　way　of　brilliancyin

the　way　of　repartee。　　If　you　could　only　hear　her　when　she　tells　her

adventures！〃



〃Adventures？〃　I　inquired。　　〃Has　she　had　adventures？〃



〃Of　the　most　wonderful　sort！〃　cried　Pickering；　with　rapture。　〃She

hasn't　vegetated；　like　me！　　She　has　lived　in　the　tumult　of　life。

When　I　listen　to　her　reminiscences；　it's　like　hearing　the　opening

tumult　of　one　of　Beethoven's　symphonies　as　it　loses　itself　in　a

triumphant　harmony　of　beauty　and　faith！〃



I　could　only　lift　my　eyebrows；　but　I　desired　to　know　before　we

separated　what　he　had　done　with　that　troublesome　conscience　of　his。

〃I　suppose　you　know；　my　dear　fellow；〃　I　said；　〃that　you　are　simply　in

love。　　That's　what　they　happen　to　call　your　state　of　mind。〃



He　replied　with　a　brightening　eye；　as　if　he　were　delighted　to　hear

it〃So　Madame　Blumenthal　told　me　only　this　morning！〃　　And　seeing；　I

suppose；　that　I　was　slightly　puzzled；　〃　I　went　to　drive　with　her；〃　he

continued；　〃we　drove　to　Konigstein；　to　see　the　old　castle。　　We

scrambled　up　into　the　heart　of　the　ruin　and　sat　for　an　hour　in　one　of

the　crumbling　old　courts。　　Something　in　the　solemn　stillness　of　the

place　unloosed　my　tongue；　and　while　she　sat　on　an　ivied　stone；　on　the

edge　of　the　plunging　wall；　I　stood　there　and　made　a　speech。　　She

listened　to　me；　looking　at　me；　breaking　off　little　bits　of　stone　and

letting　them　drop　down　into　the　valley。　　At　last　she　got　up　and

nodded　at　me　two　or　three　times　silently；　with　a　smile；　as　if　she

were　applauding　me　for　a　solo　on　the　violin。　　'You　are　in　love；'　she

said。　　'It's　a　perfect　case！'　　And　for　some　time　she　said　nothing

more。　　But　before　we　left　the　place　she　told　me　that　she　owed　me　an

answer　to　my　speech。　　She　thanked　me　heartily；　but　she　was　afraid

that　if　she　took　me　at　my　word　she　would　be　taking　advantage　of　my

inexperience。　　I　had　known　few　women；　I　was　too　easily　pleased；　I

thought　her　better　than　she　really　was。　　She　had　great　faults；　I　must

know　her　longer　and　find　them　out；　I　must　compare　her　with　other

womenwomen　younger；　simpler；　more　innocent；　more　ignorant；　and　then

if　I　still　did　her　the　honour　to　think　well　of　her；　she　would　listen

to　me　again。　　I　told　her　that　I　was　not　afraid　of　preferring　any

woman　in　the　world　to　her；　and　then　she　repeated；　'Happy　man；　happy

man！　you　are　in　love；　you　are　in　love！'〃



I　called　upon　Madame　Blumenthal　a　couple　of　days　later；　in　some

agitation　of　thought。　　It　has　been　proved　that　there　are；　here　and

there；　in　the　world；　such　people　as　sincere　impostors；　certain

characters　who　cultivate　fictitious　emotions　in　perfect　good　faith。

Even　if　this　clever　lady　enjoyed　poor　Pickering's　bedazzlement；　it

was　conceivable　that；　taking　vanity　and　charity　together；　she　should

care　more　for　his　welfare　than　for　her　own　entertainment；　and　her

offer　to　abide　by　the　result　of　hazardous　comparison　with　other　women

was　a　finer　stroke　than　her　reputation　had　led　me　to　expect。　　She

received　me　in　a　shabby　little　sitting…room　littered　with　uncut　books

and　newspapers；　many　of　which　I　saw　at　a　glance　were　French。　　One

side　of　it　was　occupied　by　an　open　piano；　surmounted　by　a　jar　full　of

white　roses。　　They　perfumed　the　air；　they　seemed　to　me　to　exhale　the

pure　aroma　of　Pickering's　devotion。　　Buried　in　an　arm…chair；　the

object　of　this　devotion　was　reading　the　Revue　des　Deux　Mondes。　　The

purpose　of　my　visit　was　not　to　admire　Madame　Blumenthal　on　my　own

account；　but　to　ascertain　how　far　I　might　safely　leave　her　to　work

her　will　upon　my　friend。　　She　had　impugned　my　sincerity　the　evening

of　the　opera；　and　I　was　careful　on　this　occasion　to　abstain　from

compliments；　and　not　to　place　her　on　her　guard　against　my

penetration。　　It　is　needless　to　narrate　our　interview　in　detail；

indeed；　to　tell　the　perfect　truth；　I　was　punished　for　my　rash　attempt

to　surprise　her　by　a　temporary　eclipse　of　my　own　perspicacity。　　She

sat　there　so　questioning；　so　perceptive；　so　genial；　so　generous；　and

so　pretty　withal；　that　I　was　quite　ready　at　the　end　of　half　an　hour

to　subscribe　to　the　most　comprehensive　of　Pickering's　rhapsodies。

She　was　certainly　a　wonderful　woman。　　I　have　never　liked　to　linger；

in　memory；　on　that　half…hour。　　The　result　of　it　was　to　prove　that

there　were　many　more　things　in　the　composition　of　a　woman　who；　as

Niedermeyer　said；　had　lodged　her　imagination　in　the　place　of　her

heart　than　were　dreamt　of　in　my　philosophy。　　Yet；　as　I　sat　there

stroking　my　hat　and　balancing　the　account　between　nature　and　art　in

my　affable　hostess；　I　felt　like　a　very　competent　philosopher。　　She

had　said　she　wished　me　to　tell　her　everything　about　our　friend；　and

she　questioned　me　as　to　his　family；　his　fortune；　his　antecedents；　and

his　character。　　All　this　was　natural　in　a　woman　who　had　received　a

passionate　declaration　of　love；　and　it　was　expressed　with　an　air　of

charmed　solicitude；　a　radiant　confidence　that　there　was　really　no

mistake　about　his　being　a　most　distinguished　young　man；　and　that　if　I

chose　to　be　explicit；　I　might　deepen　her　conviction　to　disinterested

ecstasy；　which　might　have　almost　provoked　me　to　invent　a　good

opinion；　if　I　had　not　had　one　ready　made。　　I　told　her　that　she　really

knew　Pickering　better　than　I　did；　and　that　until　we　met　at　Homburg　I

had　not　seen　him　since　he　was　a　boy。



〃But　he　talks　to　you　freely；〃　she　answered；　〃I　know　you　are　his

confidant。　　He　has　told　me　certainly　a　great　many　things；　but　I

always　feel　as　if　he　were　keeping　something　back；　as　if　he　were

holding　something　behind　him；　and　showing　me　only　one　hand　at　once。

He　seems　often　to　be　hovering　on　the　edge　of　a　secret。　　I　have　had

several　friendships　in　my　lifethank　Heaven！　but　I　have　had　none

more　dear　to　me　than　this　one。　　Yet　in　the　midst　of　it　I　have　the

painful　sense　of　my　friend　being　half　afraid　of　me；　of　his　thinking

me　terrible；　strange；　perhaps　a　trifle　out　of　my　wits。　　Poor　me！　　If

he　only　knew　what　a　plain　good　soul　I　am；　and　how　I　only　want　to　know

him　and　befriend　him！〃



These　words　were　full　of　a　plaintive　magnanimity　which　made　mistrust

seem　cruel。　　How　much　better　I　might　play　providence　over　Pickering's

experiments　with　life　if　I　could　engage　the　fine　instincts　of　this

charming　woman　on　the　providential　side！　　Pickering's　secret　was；　of

course；　his　engagement　to　Miss　Vernor；　it　was　natural　enough　that　he

should　have　been　unable　to　bring　himself　to　talk　of　it　to　Madame

Blumenthal。　　The　simple　sweetness　of　this　young　girl's　face　had　not

faded　from　my　memory；　I　could　not　rid　myself　of　the　suspicion　that　in

going　further　Pickering　might　fare　much　worse。　　Madame　Blumenthal's

professions　seemed　a　virtual　promise　to　agree　with　me；　and；　after

some　hesitation；　I　said　that　my　friend　had；　in　fact；　a　substantial

secret；　and　that　perhaps　I　might　do　him　a　good　turn　by　putting　her　in

possession　of　it。　　In　as　few　words　as　possible　I　told　her　that

Pickering　stood　pledged　by　filial　piety　to　marry　a　young　lady　at

Smyrna。　　She　listened　intently　to　my　story；　when　I　had