Those Barren Leaves Aldous Huxley (best biographies to read txt) 📖

had been designed for the upholstery of chairs and sofas, not of the human figure. Her beads were more numerous and more brilliant than before. She carried a parasol of brightly flowered silk.

Emerging from the house, Mr. Cardan found her in the act of tying a bunch of Michaelmas daisies to the tail of a large white maremman dog that stood, its mouth open, its pink tongue lolling out and its large brown eyes fixed, so it seemed, meditatively on the further horizon, waiting for Miss Elver to have finished the operation. But Miss Elver was very slow and clumsy. The fingers of her stubby little hands seemed to find the process of tying a bow in a piece of ribbon extraordinarily difficult. Once or twice the dog looked round with a mild curiosity to see what was happening at the far end of its anatomy. It did not seem in the least to resent the liberties Miss Elver was taking with its tail, but stood quite still, resigned and waiting. Mr. Cardan was reminded of that enormous tolerance displayed by dogs and cats of even the most fiendish children. Perhaps, in a flash of Bergsonian intuition, the beast had realized the childish essence of Miss Elver’s character, had recognized the infant under the disguise of the full-grown woman. Dogs are good Bergsonians, thought Mr. Cardan. Men, on the other hand, are better Kantians. He approached softly.

Miss Elver had at last succeeded in tying the bow to her satisfaction; the dog’s white tail was tipped with a rosette of purple flowers. She straightened herself up and looked admiringly at her handiwork. “There!” she said at last, addressing herself to the dog. “Now you can run away. Now you look lovely.”

The dog took the hint and trotted off, waving his flower-tipped tail.

Mr. Cardan stepped forward. “ ‘Neat but not gaudy,’ ” he quoted, “ ‘genteel but not expensive, like the gardener’s dog with a primrose tied to his tail.’ Good morning.” He took off his hat.

But Miss Elver did not return his salutation. Taken by surprise, she had stood, as though petrified, staring at him with stretched eyes and open mouth while he spoke. At Mr. Cardan’s “good morning,” which was the first word of his that she had understood, the enchantment of stillness seemed to be lifted from her. She burst into a nervous laugh, covered her blushing face with her hands⁠—for a moment only⁠—then turned and ran down the path, ungainly as an animal moving in an element not its own, to take refuge behind a clump of rank bushes at the end of the garden. Seeing her run, the big dog came bounding after her, joyously barking. One Michaelmas daisy dropped to the ground, then another. In a moment they were all gone and the ribbon with them.

Slowly, cautiously, as though he were stalking a shy bird, and with a reassuring air of being absorbed in anything rather than the pursuit of a runaway, Mr. Cardan walked after Miss Elver down the path. Between the leaves of the bushes he caught glimpses of her bright frock; sometimes, with infinite circumspection, and certain, it was clear, that she was escaping all notice, she peeped at Mr. Cardan round the edge of the bush. Gambolling round her, the dog continued to bark.

Arrived within five or six yards of Miss Elver’s hiding-place, Mr. Cardan halted. “Come now,” he said cajolingly, “what’s there so frightening about me? Take a good look at me. I don’t bite. I’m quite tame.”

The leaves of the bushes shook; from behind them came a peal of shrill laughter.

“I don’t even bark, like your stupid dog,” Mr. Cardan went on. “And if you tied a bunch of flowers on to my tail I should never have the bad manners to get rid of them in the first two minutes like that rude animal.”

There was more laughter.

“Won’t you come out?”

There was no answer.

“Oh, very well then,” said Mr. Cardan, in the tone of one who is deeply offended, “I shall go away. Goodbye.” He retraced his steps for a few yards, then turned off to the right along a little path that led to the garden gate. When he was about three-quarters of the way along it, he heard the sound of hurrying footsteps coming up behind him. He walked on, pretending to notice nothing. There was a touch on his arm.

“Don’t go. Please.” Miss Elver’s voice spoke imploringly. He looked round, as though startled. “I won’t run away again. But you mustn’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” asked Mr. Cardan.

Miss Elver put up a screening hand and turned away. “Like I don’t know what,” she said.

Mr. Cardan thought he perfectly understood; he pursued the subject no further. “Well, if you promise not to run away,” he said, “I won’t go.”

Miss Elver’s face shone with pleasure and gratitude. “Thank you,” she said. “Should we go and look at the chickens? They’re round at the back.”

They went round to the back. Mr. Cardan admired the chickens. “You like animals?” he asked.

“I should think so,” said Miss Elver rapturously, and nodded.

“Have you ever had a parrot of your own?”

“No.”

“Or a monkey?”

She shook her head.

“Not even a Shetland pony?” asked Mr. Cardan on a note of astonishment.

Miss Elver’s voice trembled as she again had to answer “No.” At the thought of all these enchanting things she had never possessed, the tears came into her eyes.

“In my house,” said Mr. Cardan, conjuring up fairy palaces as easily as Aladdin, “there are hundreds of them. I’ll give you some when you come to stay with me.”

Miss Elver’s face became bright again. “Will you?” she said, “Oh, that would be nice, that would be nice. And do you keep bears?”

“One or two,” said Mr. Cardan modestly.

“Well⁠ ⁠…” Miss Elver looked up at him, her blank bright eyes opened to their fullest extent. She paused, drew a deep breath and let it slowly out again. “It must be a nice house,” she added at last, turning away and nodding slowly at every word, “a nice house. That’s all I can say.”

“You’d like to come and