The Wings of the Dove Henry James (android based ebook reader TXT) đ
- Author: Henry James
Book online «The Wings of the Dove Henry James (android based ebook reader TXT) đ». Author Henry James
âSo she tells me she fears. For if he is there heâll be constantly about with her.â
âAnd sheâll be constantly about with you?â
âAs weâre great friendsâ âyes.â
âWell then,â said Sir Luke, âyou wonât be four women alone.â
âOh no; I quite recognise the chance of gentlemen. But he wonât,â Milly pursued in the same wondrous way, âhave come, you see, for me.â
âNoâ âI see. But canât you help him?â
âCanât you?â Milly after a moment quaintly asked. Then for the joke of it she explained. âIâm putting you, you see, in relation with my entourage.â
It might have been for the joke of it too, by this time, that her eminent friend fell in. âBut if this gentleman isnât of your âentourageâ? I mean if heâs ofâ âwhat do you call her?â âMiss Croyâs. Unless indeed you also take an interest in him.â
âOh certainly I take an interest in him!â
âYou think there may be then some chance for him?â
âI like him,â said Milly, âenough to hope so.â
âThen thatâs all right. But what, pray,â Sir Luke next asked, âhave I to do with him?â
âNothing,â said Milly, âexcept that if youâre to be there, so may he be. And also that we shanât in that case be simply four dreary women.â
He considered her as if at this point she a little tried his patience. âYouâre the least âdrearyâ woman Iâve ever, ever seen. Ever, do you know? Thereâs no reason why you shouldnât have a really splendid life.â
âSo everyone tells me,â she promptly returned.
âThe convictionâ âstrong already when I had seen you onceâ âis strengthened in me by having seen your friend. Thereâs no doubt about it. The worldâs before you.â
âWhat did my friend tell you?â Milly asked.
âNothing that wouldnât have given you pleasure. We talked about youâ âand freely. I donât deny that. But it shows me I donât require of you the impossible.â
She was now on her feet. âI think I know what you require of me.â
âNothing, for you,â he went on, âis impossible. So go on.â He repeated it againâ âwanting her so to feel that today he saw it. âYouâre all right.â
âWell,â she smiledâ ââkeep me so.â
âOh youâll get away from me.â
âKeep me, keep me,â she simply continued with her gentle eyes on him.
She had given him her hand for goodbye, and he thus for a moment did keep her. Something then, while he seemed to think if there were anything more, came back to him; though something of which there wasnât too much to be made. âOf course if thereâs anything I can do for your friend: I mean the gentleman you speak ofâ â?â He gave out in short that he was ready.
âOh Mr. Densher?â It was as if she had forgotten.
âMr. Densherâ âis that his name?â
âYesâ âbut his case isnât so dreadful.â She had within a minute got away from that.
âNo doubtâ âif you take an interest.â She had got away, but it was as if he made out in her eyesâ âthough they also had rather got awayâ âa reason for calling her back. âStill, if thereâs anything one can doâ â?â
She looked at him while she thought, while she smiled. âIâm afraid thereâs really nothing one can do.â
IIINot yet so much as this morning had she felt herself sink into possession; gratefully glad that the warmth of the Southern summer was still in the high florid rooms, palatial chambers where hard cool pavements took reflections in their lifelong polish, and where the sun on the stirred seawater, flickering up through open windows, played over the painted âsubjectsâ in the splendid ceilingsâ âmedallions of purple and brown, of brave old melancholy colour, medals as of old reddened gold, embossed and beribboned, all toned with time and all flourished and scalloped and gilded about, set in their great moulded and figured concavity (a nest of white cherubs, friendly creatures of the air) and appreciated by the aid of that second tier of smaller lights, straight openings to the front, which did everything, even with the Baedekers and photographs of Millyâs party dreadfully meeting the eye, to make of the place an apartment of state. This at last only, though she had enjoyed the palace for three weeks, seemed to count as effective occupation; perhaps because it was the first time she had been aloneâ âreally to call aloneâ âsince she had left London, it ministered to her first full and unembarrassed sense of what the great Eugenio had done for her. The great Eugenio, recommended by grand-dukes and Americans, had entered her service during the last hours of allâ âhad crossed from Paris, after multiplied pourparlers with Mrs. Stringham, to whom she had allowed more than ever a free hand, on purpose to escort her to the Continent and encompass her there, and had dedicated to her, from the moment of their meeting, all the treasures of his experience. She had judged him in advanceâ âpolyglot and universal, very dear and very deepâ âas probably but a swindler finished to the fingertips; for he was forever carrying one well-kept Italian hand to his heart and plunging the other straight into her pocket, which, as she had instantly observed him to recognise, fitted it like a glove. The remarkable thing was that these elements of their common consciousness had rapidly gathered into an indestructible link, formed the ground of a happy relation; being by this time, strangely, grotesquely, delightfully, what most kept up confidence between them and what most expressed it.
She had seen quickly enough what was happeningâ âthe usual thing again, yet once again. Eugenio had, in an interview of five minutes, understood her, had got hold, like all the world, of the idea not so much of the care with which she must be taken up as of the care with which she must be let down. All the world understood her, all the world had got hold; but for nobody yet, she felt, would the idea have been so close a tie or won from herself so patient a surrender. Gracefully, respectfully, consummately enoughâ âalways with hands in position and the look, in his
Comments (0)