"Oh, yes," she murmured, glanced down, as it were upon herself, then added very low: "This body.""Well, it is you," said Blunt with visibly contained irritation.
"You don't pretend it's somebody else's.It can't be.You haven't borrowed it....It fits you too well," he ended between his teeth.
"You take pleasure in tormenting yourself," she remonstrated, suddenly placated; "and I would be sorry for you if I didn't think it's the mere revolt of your pride.And you know you are indulging your pride at my expense.As to the rest of it, as to my living, acting, working wonders at a little cost....it has all but killed me morally.Do you hear? Killed.""Oh, you are not dead yet," he muttered,"No," she said with gentle patience."There is still some feeling left in me; and if it is any satisfaction to you to know it, you may be certain that I shall be conscious of the last stab."He remained silent for a while and then with a polite smile and a movement of the head in my direction he warned her.
"Our audience will get bored."
"I am perfectly aware that Monsieur George is here, and that he has been breathing a very different atmosphere from what he gets in this room.Don't you find this room extremely confined?" she asked me.
The room was very large but it is a fact that I felt oppressed at that moment.This mysterious quarrel between those two people, revealing something more close in their intercourse than I had ever before suspected, made me so profoundly unhappy that I didn't even attempt to answer.And she continued:
"More space.More air.Give me air, air." She seized the embroidered edges of her blue robe under her white throat and made as if to tear them apart, to fling it open on her breast, recklessly, before our eyes.We both remained perfectly still.
Her hands dropped nervelessly by her side."I envy you, Monsieur George.If I am to go under I should prefer to be drowned in the sea with the wind on my face.What luck, to feel nothing less than all the world closing over one's head!"A short silence ensued before Mr.Blunt's drawing-room voice was heard with playful familiarity.
"I have often asked myself whether you weren't really a very ambitious person, Dona Rita.""And I ask myself whether you have any heart." She was looking straight at him and he gratified her with the usual cold white flash of his even teeth before he answered.
"Asking yourself? That means that you are really asking me.But why do it so publicly? I mean it.One single, detached presence is enough to make a public.One alone.Why not wait till he returns to those regions of space and air - from which he came."His particular trick of speaking of any third person as of a lay figure was exasperating.Yet at the moment I did not know how to resent it, but, in any case, Dona Rita would not have given me time.Without a moment's hesitation she cried out:
"I only wish he could take me out there with him."For a moment Mr.Blunt's face became as still as a mask and then instead of an angry it assumed an indulgent expression.As to me Ihad a rapid vision of Dominic's astonishment, awe, and sarca** which was always as tolerant as it is possible for sarca** to be.
But what a charming, gentle, gay, and fearless companion she would have made! I believed in her fearlessness in any adventure that would interest her.It would be a new occasion for me, a new viewpoint for that faculty of admiration she had awakened in me at sight - at first sight - before she opened her lips - before she ever turned her eyes on me.She would have to wear some sort of sailor costume, a blue woollen shirt open at the throat....
Dominic's hooded cloak would envelop her amply, and her face under the black hood would have a luminous quality, adolescent charm, and an enigmatic expression.The confined space of the little vessel's quarterdeck would lend itself to her cross-legged attitudes, and the blue sea would balance gently her characteristic immobility that seemed to hide thoughts as old and profound as itself.As restless, too - perhaps.
But the picture I had in my eye, coloured and ****** like an illustration to a nursery-book tale of two venturesome children's escapade, was what fascinated me most.Indeed I felt that we two were like children under the gaze of a man of the world - who lived by his sword.And I said recklessly:
"Yes, you ought to come along with us for a trip.You would see a lot of things for yourself."Mr.Blunt's expression had grown even more indulgent if that were possible.Yet there was something ineradicably ambiguous about that man.I did not like the indefinable tone in which he observed:
