the dwelling place of ligh-第44部分

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it　cosy？〃　he　said；　taking　her　hands　and　pulling　her　toward　him。　　His　own
hands　trembled；　the　tips　of　his　fingers　were　cold。

〃You　are　cold！〃　she　said。

〃Not　nownot　now；〃　he　replied。　　The　queer　vibrations　were　in　his　voice
that　she　had　heard　before。　　〃Sweetheart！　　This　is　the　best　yet；　isn't　it？
And　after　that　trip　in　the　storm！〃

〃It's　beautiful！〃　she　murmured；　gently　drawing　away　from　him　and　looking
around　her　once　more。　　〃I　never　was　in　a　room　like　this。〃

〃Well；　you'll　be　in　plenty　more　of　them；〃　he　exulted。　　〃Sit　down　beside
the　fire；　and　get　warm　yourself。〃

She　obeyed；　and　he　took　the　chair　at　her　side；　his　eyes　on　her　face。　　As
usual；　she　was　beyond　him；　and　despite　her　exclamations　of　surprise；　of
appreciation　and　pleasure　she　maintained　the　outward　poise；　the
inscrutability　that　summed　up　for　him　her　uniqueness　in　the　world　of
woman。　　She　sat　as　easily　upright　in　the　delicate　Chippendale　chair　as
though　she　had　been　born　to　it。　　He　made　wild　surmises　as　to　what　she
might　be　thinking。　　Was　she；　as　she　seemed；　taking　all　this　as　a　matter
of　course？　　She　imposed　on　him　an　impelling　necessity　to　speak；　to　say
anythingit　did　not　matter　whatand　he　began　to　dwell　on　the
excellences　of　the　hotel。　　She　did　not　appear　to　hear　him；　her　eyes
lingering　on　the　room；　until　presently　she　asked：

〃What's　the　name　of　this　hotel？〃

He　told　her。

〃I　thought　they　only　allowed　married　people　to　come；　like　this；　in　a
private　room。〃

〃Oh！〃　he　beganand　the　sudden　perception　that　she　had　made　this
statement　impartially　added　to　his　perplexity。　　〃Well；〃　he　was　able　to
answer；　〃we're　as　good　as　married；　aren't　we；　Janet？〃　　He　leaned　toward
her；　he　put　his　hand　on　hers。　　〃The　manager　here　is　an　old　friend　of
mine。　　He　knows　we're　as　good　as　married。〃

〃Another　old　friend！〃　she　queried。　　And　the　touch　of　humour；　in　spite　of
his　taut　nerves；　delighted　him。

〃Yes；　yes；〃　he　laughed；　rather　uproariously。　　〃I've　got　'em　everywhere；
as　thick　as　landmarks。〃

〃You　seem　to；〃　she　said。

〃I　hope　you're　hungry；〃　he　said。

〃Not　very；〃　she　replied。　　〃It's　all　so　strangethis　day；　Claude。　　It's
like　a　fairy　story；　coming　here　to　Boston　in　the　snow；　and　this　place；
andand　being　with　you。〃

〃You　still　love　me？〃　he　cried；　getting　up。

〃You　must　know　that　I　do；〃　she　answered　simply；　raising　her　face　to　his。
And　he　stood　gazing　down　into　it；　with　an　odd　expression　she　had　never
seen　before。。。。〃What's　the　matter？〃　she　asked。

〃Nothingnothing；〃　he　assured　her；　but　continued　to　look　at　her。
〃You're　soso　wonderful；〃　he　whispered；　〃I　just　can't　believe　it。〃

〃And　if　it's　hard　for　you；〃　she　answered；　〃think　what　it　must　be　for　me！〃
And　she　smiled　up　at　him。

Ditmar　had　known　a　moment　of　awe。。。。　　Suddenly　he　took　her　face　between
his　hands　and　pressed　his　rough　cheek　against　it；　blindly。　　His　hands
trembled；　his　body　was　shaken；　as　by　a　spasm。

〃Why；　you're　still　cold；　Claude！〃　she　cried　anxiously。

And　he　stammered　out：　〃I'm　notit's　youit's　having　you！〃

Before　she　could　reply　to　this　strange　exclamation；　to　which；
nevertheless；　some　fire　in　her　leaped　in　response；　there　came　a　knock　at
the　door；　and　he　drew　away　from　her　as　he　answered　it。　　Two　waiters
entered　obsequiously；　one　bearing　a　serving　table；　the　other　holding
above　his　head　a　large　tray　containing　covered　dishes　and　glasses。

〃I　could　do　with　a　cocktail！〃　Ditmar　exclaimed；　and　the　waiter　smiled　as
he　served　them。　　〃Here's　how！〃　he　said；　giving　her　a　glass　containing　a
yellow　liquid。

She　tasted　it；　made　a　grimace；　and　set　it　down　hastily。

〃What's　the　trouble？〃　he　asked；　laughing；　as　she　hurried　to　the　table　and
took　a　drink　of　water。

〃It's　horrid！〃　she　cried。

〃Oh；　you'll　get　over　that　idea；〃　he　told　her。　　〃You'll　be　crazy　about
'em。〃

〃I　never　want　to　taste　another；〃　she　declared。

He　laughed　again。　　He　had　taken　his　at　a　swallow；　but　almost　nullifying
its　effect　was　this　confirmationif　indeed　he　had　needed　itof　the
extent　of　her　inexperience。　　She　was；　in　truth；　untouched　by　the　world
the　world　in　which　he　had　lived。　　He　pulled　out　her　chair　for　her　and　she
sat　down；　confronted　by　a　series　of　knives；　forks；　and　spoons　on　either
side　of　a　plate　of　oysters。　　Oysters　served　in　this　fashion；　needless　to
say；　had　never　formed　part　of　the　menu　in　Fillmore　Street；　or　in　any
Hampton　restaurant　where　she　had　lunched。　　But　she　saw　that　Ditmar　had
chosen　a　little　fork　with　three　prongs；　and　she　followed　his　example。

〃You　mustn't　tell　me　you　don't　like　Cotuits！〃　he　exclaimed。

She　touched　one；　delicately；　with　her　fork。

〃They're　alive！〃　she　exclaimed；　though　the　custom　of　consuming　them　thus
was　by　no　means　unknown　to　her。　　Lise　had　often　boasted　of　a　taste　for
oysters　on　the　shell；　though　really　preferring　them　smothered　with　red
catsup　in　a　〃cocktail。〃

〃They're　alive；　but　they　don't　know　it。　　They　won't　eat　you；〃　Ditmar
replied　gleefully。　　〃Squeeze　a　little　lemon　on　one。〃　　Another　sort　of
woman；　he　reflected；　would　have　feigned　a　familiarity　with　the　dish。

She　obeyed　him；　put　one　in　her　mouth；　gave　a　little　shiver；　and　swallowed
it　quickly。

〃Well？〃　he　said。　　〃It　isn't　bad；　is　it？〃

〃It　seems　so　queer　to　eat　anything　alive；　and　enjoy　it；〃　she　said；　as　she
ate　the　rest　of　them。

〃If　you　think　they're　good　here　you　ought　to　taste　them　on　the　Cape；
right　out　of　the　water；〃　he　declared；　and　went　on　to　relate　how　he　had
once　eaten　a　fabulous　number　in　a　contest　with　a　friend　of　his；　and　won　a
bet。　　He　was　fond　of　talking　about　wagers　he　had　won。　　Betting　had　lent　a
zest　to　his　life。　　〃We'll　roll　down　there　together　some　day　next　summer；
little　girl。　　It's　a　great　place。　　You　can　go　in　swimming　three　times　a
day　and　never　feel　it。　　And　talk　about　eating　oysters；　you　can't　swallow
'em　as　fast　as　a　fellow　I　know　down　there；　Joe　Pusey；　can　open　'em。　　It's
some　trick　to　open　'em。〃

He　described　the　process；　but　shescarcely　listened。　　She　was　striving
to　adjust　herself　to　the　elements　of　a　new　and　revolutionary　experience；
to　the　waiters　who　came　and　went；　softly；　deferentially　putting　hot
plates　before　her；　helping　her　to　strange　and　delicious　things；　a　creamy
soup；　a　fish　with　a　yellow　sauce　whose　ingredients　were　artfully
disguised；　a　breast　of　guinea　fowl；　a　salad；　an　ice；　and　a　small　cup　of
coffee。　　Instincts　and　tastes　hitherto　unsuspected　and　ungratified　were
aroused　in　her。　　What　would　it　be　like　always　to　be　daintily　served；　to
eat　one's　meals　in　this　leisurely　and　luxurious　manner？　　As　her　physical
hunger　was　satisfied　by　the　dainty　food；　even　as　her　starved　senses　drank
in　the　caressing　warmth　and　harmony　of　the　room；　the　gleaming　fire；　the
heavy　scent　of　the　flowers；　the　rose　glow　of　the　lights　in　contrast　to
the　storm　without；so　the　storm　flinging　itself　against　the　windows；
powerless　to　reach　her；　seemed　to　typify　a　former　existence　of　cold；
black　mornings　and　factory　bells　and　harsh　sirens；　of　toil　and
limitations。　　Had　her　existence　been　like　that？　　or　was　it　a　dream；　a
nightmare　from　which　she　had　awakened　at　last？　　From　time　to　time；　deep
within　her；　she　felt　persisting　a　conviction　that　that　was　reality；　this
illusion；　but　she　fought　it　down。　　She　wantedoh；　how　she　wanted　to
believe　in　the　illusion！

Facing　her　was　the　agent；　the　genius；　the　Man　who　had　snatched　her　from
that　existence；　who　had　at　his　command　these　delights　to　bestow。　　She
loved　him；　she　belonged　to　him；　he　was　to　be　her　husbandyet　there　were
moments　when　the　glamour　of　this　oddly　tended　to　dissolve；　when　an
objective　vision　intruded　and　she　beheld　herself；　as　though　removed　from
the　body；　lunching　with　a　strange　man　in　a　strange　place。　　And　once　it
crossed　her　mindwhat　would　she　think　of　another　woman　who　did　this？
What　would　she　think　if　it　were　Lise？　　She　could　not　then　achieve　a　sense
of　identity；　it　was　as　though　she　had　partaken　of　some　philtre　lulling
her；　inhibiting　her　power　to　grasp　the　fact　in　its　enormity。　　And　little
by　little　grew　on　her　the　realization　of　what　all　along　she　had　known；
that　the　spell　of　these　surroundings　to　which　she　had　surrendered　was　an
expression　of　the　man　himself。　　He　was　the　source　of　it。　　More　and　more；
as　he　talked；　his　eyes　troubled　and　stirred　her；　the　touch　of　his　hand；
as　he　reached　across　the　table　and　laid　it　on　hers；　burned　her。　　When　the
waiters　had　left　them　alone　she　could　stand　the　strain　no　longer；　and　she
rose　and　strayed　about　the　room；　examining　the　furniture；　the　curtains；
the　crystal　pendants；　faintly　pink；　that　softened　and　diffused　the　light；
and　she　paused　before　the　grand　piano　in　the　corner。

〃I'd　like　to　be　able　to　play！〃　she　said。

〃You　can　learn；〃　he　told　her。

〃I'm　too　old！〃

He　laughed。　　And　as　he　sat　smoking　his　eyes　followed　her　ceaselessly。

Above　the　sofa　hung　a　large　print　of　the　Circus　Maximus；　with　crowded
tiers　mounting　toward　the　sky；　and　awninged　boxes　where　sat　the　Vestal
Virgins　and　the　Emperor　high　above　a　motley；　serried　group　on　the　sand。
At　the　mouth　of　a　tunnel　a　lion　stood　motionless；　menacing；　regarding
them。　　The　picture　fascinated　Janet。

〃It's　meant　to　be　Rome；　isn't　it？〃　　she　asked。

〃What？　　That？　　I　guess　so。〃　　He　got　up　and　came　over　to　her。　　〃Sure；〃　he
said。　　〃I'm　not　very　strong　on　history；　but　I　read　a　book　once；　a　novel；
which　told　how　those　old　fellows　used　to　like　to　see　Christians　thrown　to
the　lions　just　as　we　like　to　see　football　games。　　I'll　get　the　book
againwe'll　read　it　together。〃

Janet　shivered。。。。　　〃Here's　another　picture；〃　he　said；　turning　to　the
other　side　of　the　room。　　It　was；　apparently；　an　engraved　copy　of　a　modern
portrait；　of　a　woman　in　evening　dress　with　shapely　arms　and　throat　and　a
small；　aristocratic　head。　　Around　her　neck　was　hung　a　heavy　rope　of
pearls。

〃Isn't　she　beautiful！〃　Janet　sighed。

〃Beautiful！〃　　He　led　her　to　the　mirror。　　〃Look！〃　he　said。　　〃I'll　buy　you
pearls；　Janet；　I　want　to　see　them　gleaming　against　your　skin。　　She　can't
compare　to　you。　　I'llI'll　drape　you　with　pearls。〃

〃No；　no；〃　she　cried。　　〃I　don't　want　them；　Claude。　　I　don't　want　them。
Please！〃　　She　scarcely　knew　what　she　was　saying。　　And　as　she　drew　away
from　him　her　hands　went　out；　were　pressed　together　with　an　imploring；
supplicating　gesture。　　He　seized