It was past four o'clock before I left the house, together with Mills.Mr.Blunt, still in his riding costume, escorted us to the very door.He asked us to send him the first fiacre we met on our way to town."It's impossible to walk in this get-up through the streets," he remarked, with his brilliant smile.
At this point I propose to transcribe some notes I made at the time in little black books which I have hunted up in the litter of the past; very cheap, common little note-books that by the lapse of years have acquired a touching dimness of aspect, the frayed, worn-out dignity of documents.
Expression on paper has never been my forte.My life had been a thing of outward manifestations.I never had been secret or even systematically taciturn about my ****** occupations which might have been foolish but had never required either caution or mystery.
But in those four hours since midday a complete change had come over me.For good or evil I left that house committed to an enterprise that could not be talked about; which would have appeared to many senseless and perhaps ridiculous, but was certainly full of risks, and, apart from that, commanded discretion on the ground of ****** loyalty.It would not only close my lips but it would to a certain extent cut me off from my usual haunts and from the society of my friends; especially of the light-hearted, young, harum-scarum kind.This was unavoidable.It was because I felt myself thrown back upon my own thoughts and forbidden to seek relief amongst other lives - it was perhaps only for that reason at first I started an irregular, fragmentary record of my days.
I made these notes not so much to preserve the memory (one cared not for any to-morrow then) but to help me to keep a better hold of the actuality.I scribbled them on shore and I scribbled them on the sea; and in both cases they are concerned not only with the nature of the facts but with the intensity of my sensations.It may be, too, that I learned to love the sea for itself only at that time.Woman and the sea revealed themselves to me together, as it were: two mistresses of life's values.The illimitable greatness of the one, the unfathomable seduction of the other working their immemorial spells from generation to generation fell upon my heart at last: a common fortune, an unforgettable memory of the sea's formless might and of the sovereign charm in that woman's form wherein there seemed to beat the pulse of divinity rather than blood.
I begin here with the notes written at the end of that very day.
- Parted with Mills on the quay.We had walked side by side in absolute silence.The fact is he is too old for me to talk to him freely.For all his sympathy and seriousness I don't know what note to strike and I am not at all certain what he thinks of all this.As we shook hands at parting, I asked him how much longer he expected to stay.And he answered me that it depended on R.She was ****** arrangements for him to cross the frontier.He wanted to see the very ground on which the Principle of Legitimacy was actually asserting itself arms in hand.It sounded to my positive mind the most fantastic thing in the world, this elimination of personalities from what seemed but the merest political, dynastic adventure.So it wasn't Dona Rita, it wasn't Blunt, it wasn't the Pretender with his big infectious laugh, it wasn't all that lot of politicians, archbishops, and generals, of monks, guerrilleros, and smugglers by sea and land, of dubious agents and shady speculators and undoubted swindlers, who were pushing their fortunes at the risk of their precious skins.No.It was the Legitimist Principle asserting itself! Well, I would accept the view but with one reservation.All the others might have been merged into the idea, but I, the latest recruit, I would not be merged in the Legitimist Principle.Mine was an act of independent assertion.Never before had I felt so intensely aware of my personality.But I said nothing of that to Mills.I only told him I thought we had better not be seen very often together in the streets.He agreed.Hearty handshake.Looked affectionately after his broad back.It never occurred to him to turn his head.What was I in comparison with the Principle of Legitimacy?
Late that night I went in search of Dominic.That Mediterranean sailor was just the man I wanted.He had a great experience of all unlawful things that can be done on the seas and he brought to the practice of them much wisdom and audacity.That I didn't know where he lived was nothing since I knew where he loved.The proprietor of a small, quiet cafe on the quay, a certain Madame Leonore, a woman of thirty-five with an open Roman face and intelligent black eyes, had captivated his heart years ago.In that cafe with our heads close together over a marble table, Dominic and I held an earnest and endless confabulation while Madame Leonore, rustling a black silk skirt, with gold earrings, with her raven hair elaborately dressed and something nonchalant in her movements, would take occasion, in passing to and fro, to rest her hand for a moment on Dominic's shoulder.Later when the little cafe had emptied itself of its habitual customers, mostly people connected with the work of ships and cargoes, she came quietly to sit at our table and looking at me very hard with her black, sparkling eyes asked Dominic familiarly what had happened to his Signorino.It was her name for me.I was Dominic's Signorino.
