The King of Alsander

ION ON THE SHO

RECEIVE FROM THE HAND

books you h

as put

simple wor

your eye

-two

e was Pe

th all the passion of a passionate man, longed to believe the poet's he and banish the disappointments of the mind. There was nothing vulgar or half-educated about her beauty-lips or hands or eyes. Was she not perhaps simply a child, a soul asleep, repeating like one in an hypnotic tra

a good wine, if a little sweet. Then he took a book and read and looked at his mistress, exchanging some sufficiently foolish remarks from time to time. But he was worried with the strange events of the fore-noon, impatient

n Alsander, and Peronella wondered if it hurt. Coming to the conclusion that it must be uncomfortable to wear such a face, she got up and went to stand by Norman's chair. Such a domestic scene has

erests you so much and makes you kis

in book I brought w

s it all about?

my hair, but attend to lessons. I was reading about a great goddess

ht she was q

ho

who came out

ing about the goddess w

his Lent sermons told us

with an odd fire lurking about his eyes. One realized that if roused by the trumpet of the

say about the

ught the reason why we were so given to the sins of the flesh was that we were of the o

it is! O Peronella, you are

Normano. She was t

roated doves. Also, Peronella, she has a little silver broom, with which sh

she wear the s

t Aphrodite, it is about

ting. Was she as beautiful as A

a graceful, careless and happy woman, rather like

ing of you

with snakes in her hair, and a great disc between her breasts. Men loved her none the less

id; and Dr Sforelli wrote to the papers once to say that the image of the Virgin in the Cathedral Church was a heathen statue that some King put up there and that clothes

of the remark, and still more irrita

k to a pretty girl about the Classics, and what

learned men only the truly great can keep their characters free of priggishness, and even then

e was, shini

hy do I read such rubbish w

l Perone

eyes is the best b

so fool him that he did not wish he c

nd, by an instinct

est girl I have eve

n shone on

r a grocer boy." Then the petty arguments were needed no longer: his mind faded and went out, and he leapt upon her like a god from Olympus on some not reluctant spirit of wood or water. He pressed her to him till he felt as if every

and earliest hour of all the golden days. He kissed her smooth and naked arms that bound his neck like a silver chain. He set all t

d rosebud; on her dark hair with the hyacinthine shadows where a man might see all the stars that shine in a Syrian ni

tive Ball of Fire-on Norman, as bright an

ue divan that graced the barren room; when Peronella's lips were free to speak, and Norman's mind w

ke me to England, Normano, and when you drive me round in your carriage all the world will say

s moment, of nothing but this moment, and al

was thinking of his life. Her pretty words pierced him like little darts of ice, and all the c

how her beauty would fade away in England, swiftly, in a few years-and all in a moment she seemed as she sat there to grow old and tired before him, wasting away beneath the low, dark northern skies. He judged her character with Minoan rightness. He knew she would always b

ambitions which his heart kept so secret that he would not have spoken of them to his old friend (are there not wild miracles which we all, even t

e grew stale. Her body was his for a kiss, for a smile, at the worst for a traitor promise ora roseleaf he. But he was an Englishman-and perhaps onl

k of Becky Sharp and her devilish intrigues, of Seaforth and his vile deceitfulness. For Thackeray, the Irregular Unionist (if so we may style those easy livers) is a scourge of high society: for Dickens, he is an ungodly scoundrel, a scourge of low society; for Thomas Hardy, he is a noble fellow disregarding the shackles of convention; while the late George Meredith invariably punishes the amorous by describing them as intellectual failures. To-day Mr Shaw would consider Lovelace disreputable owing to

nt from other nations. Call our severe principles a fear of convention, an outworn chivalry, if you like; you have not accounted for all cases; perhaps it is true that an Englishman is more likely than any other European to love a woman deeply enough to be content with her for ever. At all events, it should be remarked how those Englishmen who through education or travel have most tolerance for the sins of others and most opportunity for sinning themselves seldom lose their own traditional scruples. And

clea

of water o

hing to ext

Perhaps, too, he wanted to stay in Alsander yet a little longer to inquire into the mystifications of his tramp guide, and await instructions as to the promised "career of good works." At all events, there is no doubt that as far as the procrastination business went, he f

suddenly, as though he had just remembered something,

s always alarmed at seeing a man meditate

ness and efficiency, made no answer, and going over to t

," cried the girl, running

is the matter. There is more the matter than you

ned?" said the girl, and

onella. I should

heavy as lead. Tell me

secret trouble

n be secret betw

ar. Forget it. I am sorry I h

me, Normano? You do not

is not

s it? You mu

e and put his hands on

u suppose I am?" he as

nglishman,

hman? And why should I come to

r Englishmen have

to buy a

quite enough to troubl

, "and Cesano said it was strange, but

ot tell you,

? Besides," added Peronella, passionately, "I love y

deep, perhaps you w

in his life. His conscience haunted him for years and never let

and tell lies and pretend to be what you aren't and deceive us all? It's all lies, you don't

eived you?" sai

pretend to be what you are not. You make lov

ing away," said Norman, breathless

k you

I am not lying to you. Look into my eyes and see. I ask just one thing o

k more nonsense, species of b

I wish I were ta

low put on an air of

ry me, or dare to want to marry me," he added with magniloquence,

you mean? Shall I kil

ing over her with a not feigned tenderness

heard on

of being on his best behaviour. Norman took his opportunity and went, and with a bo

a penitent child and cursed himself for a mean scoundrel.

bler when he saw him later that evening, and the first thing Petro the cobbler told Father Algio when he came in for a cup of coffee towards midnight, and the first thing Father Algio told to all his numerous acquaintance. Norman woke up next morning famous and a mystery,