dethewater-cartgoingslowlyalongsprayingthepavementthecarriagesjingling,andallthesilverandchintz,brownandbluerugsandvasesfilledwithgreenboughs,stripedwithtremblingyellowbars.
Theinsipidityofwhatwassaidneedsnoillustration—Bonamykeptongentlyreturningquietanswersandaccumulatingamazementatanexistencesqueezedandemasculatedwithinawhitesatinshoe(Mrs.DurrantmeanwhileenunciatingstridentpoliticswithSirSomebodyinthebackroom)untilthevirginityofClara'ssoulappearedtohimcandidthedepthsunknownandhewouldhavebroughtoutJacob'snamehadhenotbeguntofeelpositivelycertainthatClaralovedhim—andcoulddonothingwhatever.
"Nothingwhatever!"heexclaimed,asthedoorshut,and,foramanofhistemperament,gotaveryqueerfeeling,ashewalkedthroughthepark,ofcarriagesirresistiblydrivenofflowerbedsuncompromisinglygeometricalofforcerushingroundgeometricalpatternsinthemostsenselesswayintheworld."WasClara,"hethought,pausingtowatchtheboysbathingintheSerpentine,"thesilentwoman?—wouldJacobmarryher?"
ButinAthensinthesunshine,inAthens,whereitisalmostimpossibletogetafternoontea,andelderlygentlemenwhotalkpoliticstalkthemalltheotherwayround,inAthenssatSandraWentworthWilliams,veiled,inwhite,herlegsstretchedinfrontofher,oneelbowonthearmofthebamboochair,bluecloudswaveringanddriftingfromhercigarette.
TheorangetreeswhichflourishintheSquareoftheConstitution,theband,thedraggingoffeet,thesky,thehouses,lemonandrosecoloured—allthisbecamesosignificanttoMrs.WentworthWilliamsafterhersecondcupofcoffeethatshebegandramatizingthestoryofthenobleandimpulsiveEnglishwomanwhohadofferedaseatinhercarriagetotheoldAmericanladyatMycenae(Mrs.Duggan)—notaltogetherafalsestory,thoughitsaidnothingofEvan,standingfirstononefoot,thenontheother,waitingforthewomentostopchattering.
"IamputtingthelifeofFatherDamienintoverse,"Mrs.Dugganhadsaid,forshehadlosteverything—everythingintheworld,husbandandchildandeverything,butfaithremained.
Sandra,floatingfromtheparticulartotheuniversal,laybackinatrance.
Theflightoftimewhichhurriesussotragicallyalongtheeternaldrudgeanddrone,nowburstingintofieryflamelikethosebriefballsofyellowamonggreenleaves(shewaslookingatorangetrees)kissesonlipsthataretodietheworldturning,turninginmazesofheatandsound—thoughtobesurethereisthequieteveningwithitslovelypallor,"ForIamsensitivetoeverysideofit,"Sandrathought,"andMrs.Dugganwillwritetomeforever,andIshallanswerherletters."Nowtheroyalbandmarchingbywiththenationalflagstirredwiderringsofemotion,andlifebecamesomethingthatthecourageousmountandrideouttoseaon—thehairblownback(sosheenvisagedit,andthebreezestirredslightlyamongtheorangetrees)andsheherselfwasemergingfromsilverspray—whenshesawJacob.HewasstandingintheSquarewithabookunderhisarmlookingvacantlyabouthim.Thathewasheavilybuiltandmightbecomestoutintimewasafact.
Butshesuspectedhimofbeingamerebumpkin.
"Thereisthatyoungman,"shesaid,peevishly,throwingawayhercigarette,"thatMr.Flanders."
"Where?"saidEvan."Idon'tseehim."
"Oh,walkingaway—behindthetreesnow.No,youcan'tseehim.Butwearesuretorunintohim,"which,ofcourse,theydid.
Buthowfarwasheamerebumpkin?HowfarwasJacobFlandersattheageoftwenty-sixastupidfellow?Itisnousetryingtosumpeopleup.Onemustfollowhints,notexactlywhatissaid,noryetentirelywhatisdone.Some,itistrue,takeineffaceableimpressionsofcharacteratonce.Othersdally,loiter,andgetblownthiswayandthat.Kindoldladiesassureusthatcatsareoftenthebestjudgesofcharacter.Acatwillalwaysgotoagoodman,theysaybutthen,Mrs.Whitehorn,Jacob'slandlady,loathedcats.
Thereisalsothehighlyrespectableopinionthatcharacter-mongeringismuchoverdonenowadays.Afterall,whatdoesitmatter—thatFannyElmerwasallsentimentandsensation,andMrs.Durranthardasiron?thatClara,owing(sothecharacter-mongerssaid)largelytohermother'sinfluence,neveryethadthechancetodoanythingoffherownbat,andonlytoveryobservanteyesdisplayeddeepsoffeelingwhichwerepositivelyalarmingandwouldcertainlythrowherselfawayuponsomeoneunworthyofheroneofthesedaysunless,sothecharacter-mongerssaid,shehadasparkofhermother'sspiritinher—wassomehowheroic.ButwhatatermtoapplytoClaraDurrant!Simpletoadegree,othersthoughther.Andthatistheveryreason,sotheysaid,whysheattractsDickBonamy—theyoungmanwiththeWellingtonnose.NowHE'Sadarkhorseifyoulike.Andtherethesegossipswouldsuddenlypause.Obviouslytheymeanttohintathispeculiardisposition—longrumouredamongthem.
"ButsometimesitispreciselyawomanlikeClarathatmenofthattemperamentneed…"MissJuliaEliotwouldhint.
"Well,"Mr.Bowleywouldreply,"itmaybeso."
Forhoweverlongthesegossipssit,andhowevertheystuffouttheirvictims'characterstilltheyareswollenandtenderastheliversofgeeseexposedtoahotfire,theynevercometoadecision.
"Thatyoungman,JacobFlanders,"the