the dark flower-第16部分

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around；　beyond；　the　dark　sky；　and　the　dark　mountains；　and　the　dark
sea；　like　some　great　dark　flower　to　whose　heart　is　clinging　a
jewelled　beetle。　　So　was　Monte　Carlo　on　that　May　night　of　1887。

But　Mark　Lennan；　at　one　of　the　little　marble…topped　tables；　was　in
too　great　maze　and　exaltation　of　spirit　and　of　senses　to　be
conscious　of　its　glare　and　babel；　even　of　its　beauty。　　He　sat　so
very　still　that　his　neighbours；　with　the　instinctive　aversion　of
the　human　creature　to　what　is　too　remote　from　its　own　mood；　after
one　good　stare；　turned　their　eyes　away；　as　from　something
ludicrous；　almost　offensive。

He　was　lost；　indeed；　in　memory　of　the　minutes　just　gone　by。　　For　it
had　come　at　last；　after　all　these　weeks　of　ferment；　after　all　this
strange　time　of　perturbation。

Very　stealthily　it　had　been　creeping　on　him；　ever　since　that　chance
introduction　nearly　a　year　ago；　soon　after　he　settled　down　in
London；　following　those　six　years　of　Rome　and　Paris。　　First　the
merest　friendliness；　because　she　was　so　nice　about　his　work；　then
respectful　admiration；　because　she　was　so　beautiful；　then　pity；
because　she　was　so　unhappy　in　her　marriage。　　If　she　had　been　happy；
he　would　have　fled。　　The　knowledge　that　she　had　been　unhappy　long
before　he　knew　her　had　kept　his　conscience　still。　　And　at　last　one
afternoon　she　said：　〃Ah！　if　you　come　out　there　too！〃　　Marvelously
subtle；　the　way　that　one　little　outslipped　saying　had　worked　in
him；　as　though　it　had　a　life　of　its　ownlike　a　strange　bird　that
had　flown　into　the　garden　of　his　heart；　and　established　itself　with
its　new　song　and　flutterings；　its　new　flight；　its　wistful　and　ever
clearer　call。　　That　and　one　moment；　a　few　days　later　in　her　London
drawing…room；　when　he　had　told　her　that　he　WAS　coming；　and　she　did
not；　could　not；　he　felt；　look　at　him。　　Queer；　that　nothing
momentous　said；　doneor　even　left　undonehad　altered　all　the
future！

And　so　she　had　gone　with　her　uncle　and　aunt；　under　whose　wing　one
might　be　sure　she　would　meet　with　no　wayward　or　exotic　happenings。
And　he　had　received　from　her　this　little　letter：


〃HOTEL　COEUR　D'OR；

〃MONTE　CARLO。

〃MY　DEAR　MARK；

〃We've　arrived。　　It　is　so　good　to　be　in　the　sun。　　The　flowers　are
wonderful。　　I　am　keeping　Gorbio　and　Roquebrune　till　you　come。

〃Your　friend；

〃OLIVE　CRAMIER。〃


That　letter　was　the　single　clear　memory　he　had　of　the　time　between
her　going　and　his　following。　　He　received　it　one　afternoon；　sitting
on　an　old　low　garden　wall　with　the　spring　sun　shining　on　him
through　apple…trees　in　blossom；　and　a　feeling　as　if　all　the　desire
of　the　world　lay　before　him；　and　he　had　but　to　stretch　out　his　arms
to　take　it。

Then　confused　unrest；　all　things　vague；　till　at　the　end　of　his
journey　he　stepped　out　of　the　train　at　Beaulieu　with　a　furiously
beating　heart。　　But　why？　　Surely　he　had　not　expected　her　to　come
out　from　Monte　Carlo　to　meet　him！

A　week　had　gone　by　since　then　in　one　long　effort　to　be　with　her　and
appear　to　others　as　though　he　did　not　greatly　wish　to　be；　two
concerts；　two　walks　with　her　alone；　when　all　that　he　had　said
seemed　as　nothing　said；　and　all　her　sayings　but　ghosts　of　what　he
wished　to　hear；　a　week　of　confusion；　day　and　night；　until；　a　few
minutes　ago；　her　handkerchief　had　fallen　from　her　glove　on　to　the
dusty　road；　and　he　had　picked　it　up　and　put　it　to　his　lips。
Nothing　could　take　away　the　look　she　had　given　him　then。　　Nothing
could　ever　again　separate　her　from　him　utterly。　　She　had　confessed
in　it　to　the　same　sweet；　fearful　trouble　that　he　himself　was
feeling。　　She　had　not　spoken；　but　he　had　seen　her　lips　part；　her
breast　rise　and　fall。　　And　HE　had　not　spoken。　　What　was　the　use　of
words？

He　felt　in　the　pocket　of　his　coat。　　There；　against　his　fingers；　was
that　wisp　of　lawn　and　lace；　soft；　yet　somehow　alive；　and　stealthily
he　took　it　out。　　The　whole　of　her；　with　her　fragrance；　seemed
pressed　to　his　face　in　the　touch　of　that　lawn　border；　roughened　by
little　white　stars。　　More　secretly　than　ever　he　put　it　back；　and
for　the　first　time　looked　round。　　These　people！　　They　belonged　to　a
world　that　he　had　left。　　They　gave　him　the　same　feeling　that　her
uncle　and　aunt　had　given　him　just　now；　when　they　said　good…night；
following　her　into　their　hotel。　　That　good　Colonel；　that　good　Mrs。
Ercott！　　The　very　concretion　of　the　world　he　had　been　brought　up
in；　of　the　English　point　of　view；　symbolic　figures　of　health；
reason；　and　the　straight　path；　on　which　at　that　moment；　seemingly；
he　had　turned　his　back。　　The　Colonel's　profile；　ruddy　through　its
tan；　with　grey　moustache　guiltless　of　any　wax；　his　cheery；　high…
pitched：　〃Good…night；　young　Lennan！〃　　His　wife's　curly　smile；　her
flat；　cosy；　confidential　voicehow　strange　and　remote　they　had
suddenly　become！　　And　all　these　people　here；　chattering；　drinking
how　queer　and　far　away！　　Or　was　it　just　that　he　was　queer　and
remote　to　them？

And　getting　up　from　his　table；　he　passed　the　fiddlers　with　the
dark…white　skins；　out　into　the　Place。


II


He　went　up　the　side　streets　to　the　back　of　her　hotel；　and　stood　by
the　railings　of　the　gardenone　of　those　hotel　gardens　which　exist
but　to　figure　in　advertisements；　with　its　few　arid　palms；　its　paths
staring　white　between　them；　and　a　fringe　of　dusty　lilacs　and
mimosas。

And　there　came　to　him　the　oddest　feelingthat　he　had　been　there
before；　peering　through　blossoms　at　those　staring　paths　and
shuttered　windows。　　A　scent　of　wood…smoke　was　abroad；　and　some　dry
plant　rustled　ever　so　faintly　in　what　little　wind　was　stirring。
What　was　there　of　memory　in　this　night；　this　garden？　　Some　dark
sweet　thing；　invisible；　to　feel　whose　presence　was　at　once　ecstasy；
and　the　irritation　of　a　thirst　that　will　not　be　quenched。

And　he　walked　on。　　Houses；　houses！　　At　last　he　was　away　from　them；
alone　on　the　high　road；　beyond　the　limits　of　Monaco。　　And　walking
thus　through　the　night　he　had　thoughts　that　he　imagined　no　one　had
ever　had　before　him。　　The　knowledge　that　she　loved　him　had　made
everything　seem　very　sacred　and　responsible。　　Whatever　he　did；　he
must　not　harm　her。　　Women　were　so　helpless！

For　in　spite　of　six　years　of　art　in　Rome　and　Paris；　he　still　had　a
fastidious　reverence　for　women。　　If　she　had　loved　her　husband　she
would　have　been　safe　enough　from　him；　but　to　be　bound　to　a
companionship　that　she　gave　unwillinglythis　had　seemed　to　him
atrocious；　even　before　he　loved　her。　　How　could　any　husband　ask
that？　　Have　so　little　prideso　little　pity？　　The　unpardonable
thing！　　What　was　there　to　respect　in　such　a　marriage？　　Only；　he
must　not　do　her　harm！　　But　now　that　her　eyes　had　said；　I　love　you！
What　then？　　It　was　simply　miraculous　to　know　THAT；　under　the　stars
of　this　warm　Southern　night；　burning　its　incense　of　trees　and
flowers！

Climbing　up　above　the　road；　he　lay　down。　　If　only　she　were　there
beside　him！　　The　fragrance　of　the　earth　not　yet　chilled；　crept　to
his　face；　and　for　just　a　moment　it　seemed　to　him　that　she　did　come。
If　he　could　keep　her　there　for　ever　in　that　embrace　that　was　no
embracein　that　ghostly　rapture；　on　this　wild　fragrant　bed　that　no
lovers　before　had　ever　pressed；　save　the　creeping　things；　and　the
flowers；　save　sunlight　and　moonlight　with　their　shadows；　and　the
wind　kissing　the　earth！　。　。　。

Then　she　was　gone；　his　hands　touched　nothing　but　the　crumbled　pine
dust；　and　the　flowers　of　the　wild　thyme　fallen　into　sleep。

He　stood　on　the　edge　of　the　little　cliff；　above　the　road　between
the　dark　mountains　and　the　sea　black　with　depth。　　Too　late　for　any
passer…by；　as　far　from　what　men　thought　and　said　and　did　as　the
very　night　itself　with　its　whispering　warmth。　　And　he　conjured　up
her　face；　making　certain　of　itthe　eyes；　clear　and　brown；　and　wide
apart；　the　close；　sweet　mouth；　the　dark　hair；　the　whole　flying
loveliness。

Then　he　leaped　down　into　the　road；　and　ranone　could　not　walk；
feeling　this　miracle；　that　no　one　had　ever　felt　before；　the　miracle
of　love。


III


In　their　most　reputable　hotel　'Le　Coeur　d'Or；'　long　since
remodelled　and　renamed；　Mrs。　Ercott　lay　in　her　brass…bound　bed
looking　by　starlight　at　the　Colonel　in　his　brass…bound　bed。　　Her
ears　were　carefully　freed　from　the　pressure　of　her　pillow；　for　she
thought　she　heard　a　mosquito。　　Companion　for　thirty　years　to　one
whose　life　had　been　feverishly　punctuated　by　the　attentions　of
those　little　beasts；　she　had　no　love　for　them。　　It　was　the　one
subject　on　which　perhaps　her　imagination　was　stronger　than　her
common　sense。　　For　in　fact　there　was　not；　and　could　not　be；　a
mosquito；　since　the　first　thing　the　Colonel　did；　on　arriving　at　any
place　farther　South　than　Parallel　46　of　latitude；　was　to　open　the
windows　very　wide；　and　nail　with　many　tiny　tacks　a　piece　of
mosquito　netting　across　that　refreshing　space；　while　she　held　him
firmly　by　the　coat…tails。　　The　fact　that　other　people　did　not　so
secure　their　windows　did　not　at　all　trouble　the　Colonel；　a　true
Englishman；　who　loved　to　act　in　his　own　way；　and　to　think　in　the
ways　of　other　people。　　After　that　they　would　wait　till　night　came；
then　burn　a　peculiar　little　lamp　with　a　peculiar　little　smell；　and；
in　the　full　glare　of　the　gaslight；　stand　about　on　chairs；　with
slippers；　and　their　eyes　fixed　on　true　or　imaginary　beasts。　　Then
would　fall　little　slaps；　making　little　messes；　and　little　joyous　or
doleful　cries　would　arise：　〃I've　got　that　one！〃　　〃Oh；　John；　I
missed　him！〃　　And　in　the　middle　of　the　room；　the　Colonel；　in
pyjamas；　and　spectacles　（only　worn　in　very　solemn　moments；　low　down
on　his　nose）；　would　revolve　slowly；　turning　his　eyes；　with　that
look　in　them　of　out…facing　death　which　he　had　so　long　acquired；　on
every　inch　of　wall　and　ceiling；　till　at　last　he　would　say：　〃Well；
Dolly；　that's　the　lot！〃　　At　which　she　would　say：　〃Give　me　a　kiss；
dear！〃　and　he　would　kiss　her；　and　get　into　his　bed。

There　was；　then；　no　mosquito；　save　that　general　ghost　of　him　which
lingered　in　the　mind　of　one　devoted　to　her　husband。　　Spying　out　his
profile；　for　he　was　lying　on　his　back；　she　refrained　from　saying：
〃John；　are　you　awake？〃　　A　whiffling　sound　was　coming　from　a　nose；
to　whichoriginally　straightattention　to　military　duties　had
given　a　slight　crook；　half　an　inch　below　the　level　of　grizzled
eyebrows　raised　a　little；　as　thoug