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of　that　coin。　　Nothing　significant　came　from　her。　　It　could　not　be



said　that　she　had　received　from　the　contacts　of　the　external　world



impressions　of　a　personal　kind；　different　from　other　women。　　What



was　ravishing　in　her　was　her　quietness　and；　in　her　grave　attitudes；



the　unfailing　brilliance　of　her　femininity。　　He　did　not　know　what



there　was　under　that　ivory　forehead　so　splendidly　shaped；　so



gloriously　crowned。　　He　could　not　tell　what　were　her　thoughts；　her



feelings。　　Her　replies　were　reflective；　always　preceded　by　a　short



silence；　while　he　hung　on　her　lips　anxiously。　　He　felt　himself　in



the　presence　of　a　mysterious　being　in　whom　spoke　an　unknown　voice；



like　the　voice　of　oracles；　bringing　everlasting　unrest　to　the



heart。







He　was　thankful　enough　to　sit　in　silence　with　secretly　clenched



teeth；　devoured　by　jealousy　…　and　nobody　could　have　guessed　that



his　quiet　deferential　bearing　to　all　these　grey…heads　was　the



supreme　effort　of　stoicism；　that　the　man　was　engaged　in　keeping　a



sinister　watch　on　his　tortures　lest　his　strength　should　fail　him。



As　before；　when　grappling　with　other　forces　of　nature；　he　could



find　in　himself　all　sorts　of　courage　except　the　courage　to　run



away。







It　was　perhaps　from　the　lack　of　subjects　they　could　have　in　common



that　Miss　Moorsom　made　him　so　often　speak　of　his　own　life。　　He　did



not　shrink　from　talking　about　himself；　for　he　was　free　from　that



exacerbated；　timid　vanity　which　seals　so　many　vain…glorious　lips。



He　talked　to　her　in　his　restrained　voice；　gazing　at　the　tip　of　her



shoe；　and　thinking　that　the　time　was　bound　to　come　soon　when　her



very　inattention　would　get　weary　of　him。　　And　indeed　on　stealing　a



glance　he　would　see　her　dazzling　and　perfect；　her　eyes　vague；



staring　in　mournful　immobility；　with　a　drooping　head　that　made　him



think　of　a　tragic　Venus　arising　before　him；　not　from　the　foam　of



the　sea；　but　from　a　distant；　still　more　formless；　mysterious；　and



potent　immensity　of　mankind。















CHAPTER　V















One　afternoon　Renouard　stepping　out　on　the　terrace　found　nobody



there。　　It　was　for　him；　at　the　same　time；　a　melancholy



disappointment　and　a　poignant　relief。







The　heat　was　great；　the　air　was　still；　all　the　long　windows　of　the



house　stood　wide　open。　　At　the　further　end；　grouped　round　a　lady's



work…table；　several　chairs　disposed　sociably　suggested　invisible



occupants；　a　company　of　conversing　shades。　　Renouard　looked　towards



them　with　a　sort　of　dread。　　A　most　elusive；　faint　sound　of　ghostly



talk　issuing　from　one　of　the　rooms　added　to　the　illusion　and



stopped　his　already　hesitating　footsteps。　　He　leaned　over　the



balustrade　of　stone　near　a　squat　vase　holding　a　tropical　plant　of　a



bizarre　shape。　　Professor　Moorsom　coming　up　from　the　garden　with　a



book　under　his　arm　and　a　white　parasol　held　over　his　bare　head；



found　him　there　and；　closing　the　parasol；　leaned　over　by　his　side



with　a　remark　on　the　increasing　heat　of　the　season。　　Renouard



assented　and　changed　his　position　a　little；　the　other；　after　a



short　silence；　administered　unexpectedly　a　question　which；　like　the



blow　of　a　club　on　the　head；　deprived　Renouard　of　the　power　of



speech　and　even　thought；　but；　more　cruel；　left　him　quivering　with



apprehension；　not　of　death　but　of　everlasting　torment。　　Yet　the



words　were　extremely　simple。







〃Something　will　have　to　be　done　soon。　　We　can't　remain　in　a　state



of　suspended　expectation　for　ever。　　Tell　me　what　do　you　think　of



our　chances？〃







Renouard；　speechless；　produced　a　faint　smile。　　The　professor



confessed　in　a　jocular　tone　his　impatience　to　complete　the　circuit



of　the　globe　and　be　done　with　it。　　It　was　impossible　to　remain



quartered　on　the　dear　excellent　Dunsters　for　an　indefinite　time。



And　then　there　were　the　lectures　he　had　arranged　to　deliver　in



Paris。　　A　serious　matter。







That　lectures　by　Professor　Moorsom　were　a　European　event　and　that



brilliant　audiences　would　gather　to　hear　them　Renouard　did　not



know。　　All　he　was　aware　of　was　the　shock　of　this　hint　of　departure。



The　menace　of　separation　fell　on　his　head　like　a　thunderbolt。　　And



he　saw　the　absurdity　of　his　emotion；　for　hadn't　he　lived　all　these



days　under　the　very　cloud？　　The　professor；　his　elbows　spread　out；



looked　down　into　the　garden　and　went　on　unburdening　his　mind。　　Yes。



The　department　of　sentiment　was　directed　by　his　daughter；　and　she



had　plenty　of　volunteered　moral　support；　but　he　had　to　look　after



the　practical　side　of　life　without　assistance。







〃I　have　the　less　hesitation　in　speaking　to　you　about　my　anxiety；



because　I　feel　you　are　friendly　to　us　and　at　the　same　time　you　are



detached　from　all　these　sublimities　…　confound　them。〃







〃What　do　you　mean？〃　murmured　Renouard。







〃I　mean　that　you　are　capable　of　calm　judgment。　　Here　the　atmosphere



is　simply　detestable。　　Everybody　has　knuckled　under　to　sentiment。



Perhaps　your　deliberate　opinion　could　influence　。　。　。〃







〃You　want　Miss　Moorsom　to　give　it　up？〃　　The　professor　turned　to　the



young　man　dismally。







〃Heaven　only　knows　what　I　want。〃







Renouard　leaning　his　back　against　the　balustrade　folded　his　arms　on



his　breast；　appeared　to　meditate　profoundly。　　His　face；　shaded



softly　by　the　broad　brim　of　a　planter's　Panama　hat；　with　the



straight　line　of　the　nose　level　with　the　forehead；　the　eyes　lost　in



the　depth　of　the　setting；　and　the　chin　well　forward；　had　such　a



profile　as　may　be　seen　amongst　the　bronzes　of　classical　museums；



pure　under　a　crested　helmet　…　recalled　vaguely　a　Minerva's　head。







〃This　is　the　most　troublesome　time　I　ever　had　in　my　life；〃



exclaimed　the　professor　testily。







〃Surely　the　man　must　be　worth　it；〃　muttered　Renouard　with　a　pang　of



jealousy　traversing　his　breast　like　a　self…inflicted　stab。







Whether　enervated　by　the　heat　or　giving　way　to　pent　up　irritation



the　professor　surrendered　himself　to　the　mood　of　sincerity。







〃He　began　by　being　a　pleasantly　dull　boy。　　He　developed　into　a



pointlessly　clever　young　man；　without；　I　suspect；　ever　trying　to



understand　anything。　　My　daughter　knew　him　from　childhood。　　I　am　a



busy　man；　and　I　confess　that　their　engagement　was　a　complete



surprise　to　me。　　I　wish　their　reasons　for　that　step　had　been　more



naive。　　But　simplicity　was　out　of　fashion　in　their　set。　　From　a



worldly　point　of　view　he　seems　to　have　been　a　mere　baby。　　Of



course；　now；　I　am　assured　that　he　is　the　victim　of　his　noble



confidence　in　the　rectitude　of　his　kind。　　But　that's　mere



idealising　of　a　sad　reality。　　For　my　part　I　will　tell　you　that　from



the　very　beginning　I　had　the　gravest　doubts　of　his　dishonesty。



Unfortunately　my　clever　daughter　hadn't。　　And　now　we　behold　the



reaction。　　No。　　To　be　earnestly　dishonest　one　must　be　really　poor。



This　was　only　a　manifestation　of　his　extremely　refined　cleverness。



The　complicated　simpleton。　　He　had　an　awful　awakening　though。〃







In　such　words　did　Professor　Moorsom　give　his　〃young　friend〃　to



understand　the　state　of　his　feelings　toward　the　lost　man。　　It　was



evident　that　the　father　of　Miss　Moorsom　wished　him　to　remain　lost。



Perhaps　the　unprecedented　heat　of　the　season　made　him　long　for　the



cool　spaces　of　the　Pacific；　the　sweep　of　the　ocean's　free　wind



along　the　promenade　decks；　cumbered　with　long　chairs；　of　a　ship



steaming　towards　the　Californian　coast。　　To　Renouard　the



philosopher　appeared　simply　the　most　treacherous　of　fathers。　　He



was　amazed。　　But　he　was　not　at　the　end　of　his　discoveries。







〃He　may　be　dead；〃　the　professor　murmured。







〃Why？　　People　don't　die　here　sooner　than　in　Europe。　　If　he　had　gone



to　hide　in　Italy；　for　instance；　you　wouldn't　think　of　saying　that。〃







〃Well！　　And　suppose　he　has　become　morally　disintegrated。　　You　know



he　was　not　a　strong　personality；〃　the　professor　suggested　moodily。



〃My　daughter's　future　is　in　question　here。〃







Renouard　thought　that　the　love　of　such　a　woman　was　enough　to　pull



any　broken　man　together　…　to　drag　a　man　out　of　his　grave。　　And　he



thought　this　with　inward　despair；　which　kept　him　silent　as　much



almost　as　his　astonishment。　　At　last　he　managed　to　stammer　out　a



generous　…







〃Oh！　　Don't　let　us　even　suppose。　。　。〃







The　professor　struck　in　with　a　sadder　accent　than　before　…







〃It's　good　to　be　young。　　And　then　you　have　been　a　man　of　action；



and　necessarily　a　believer　in　success。　　But　I　have　been　looking　too



long　at　life　not　to　distrust　its　surprises。　　Age！　　Age！　　Here　I



stand　before　you　a　man　full　of　doubts　and　hesitation　…　SPE　LENTUS；



TIMIDUS　FUTURI。〃







He　made　a　sign　to　Renouard　not　to　interrupt；　and　in　a　lowered



voice；　as　if　afraid　of　being　overheard；　even　there；　in　the　solitude



of　the　terrace　…







〃And　the　worst　is　that　I　am　not　even　sure　how　far　this　sentimental



pilgrimage　is　genuine。　　Yes。　　I　doubt　my　own　child。　　It's　true　that



she's　a　woman。　。　。　。　〃







Renouard　detected　with　horror　a　tone　of　resentment；　as　if　the



professor　had　never　forgiven　his　daughter　for　not　dying　instead　of



his　son。　　The　latter　noticed　the　young　man's　stony　stare。







〃Ah！　you　don't　understand。　　Yes；　she's　clever；　open…minded；



popular；　and　…　well；　charming。　　But　you　don't　know　what　it　is　to



have　moved；　breathed；　existed；　and　even　triumphed　in　the　mere



smother　and　froth　of　life　…　the　brilliant　froth。　　There　thoughts；



sentiments；　opinions；　feelings；　actions　too；　are　nothing　but



agitation　in　empty　space　…　to　amuse　life　…　a　sort　of　superior



debauchery；　exciting　and　fatiguing；　meaning　nothing；　leading



nowhere。　　She　is　the　creature　of　that　circle。　　And　I　ask　myself　if



she　is　obeying　the　uneasiness　of　an　instinct　seeking　its



satisfaction；　or　is　it　a　revulsion　of　feeling；　or　is　s