Olive trees and oleanders and the blue sea.
Peace.
Sometimes I’m appalled by the dullness and vulgarity of my life.
What you offered was beauty.
It’s too late now, I know; I didn’t know then how much I cared for you, I never dreamt that as the years went on you would mean more and more to me.’
‘It’s heavenly to hear you say that, my sweet.
It makes up for so much.’
‘I’d do anything in the world for you, Charles.
I’ve been selfish.
I’ve ruined your life, I didn’t know what I was doing.’
Her voice was low and tremulous and she threw back her head so that her neck was like a white column.
Her d?collet? showed part of her small firm breasts and with her hands she pressed them forward a little.
‘You mustn’t say that, you mustn’t think that,’ he answered gently.
‘You’ve been perfect always.
I wouldn’t have had you otherwise.
Oh my dear, life is so short and love is so transitory.
The tragedy of life is that sometimes we get what we want.
Now that I look back on our long past together I know that you were wiser than I.
“What leaf-fringed legend haunts about thy shape?”
Don’t you remember how it goes?
“Never, never canst thou kiss, though winning near the goal—yet, do not grieve; she cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss. For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair!”’ (‘Idiotic.’)
‘Such lovely lines,’ she sighed.
‘Perhaps you’re right.
Heigh-ho.’
He went on quoting.
That was a trick of his that Julia had always found somewhat tiresome.
‘Ah, happy, happy boughs! that cannot shed Your leaves, nor ever bid the Spring adieu; And, happy melodist, unwearied,For ever piping songs for ever new!…’ It gave Julia an opportunity to think.
She stared in the unlit fire, her gaze intent, as though she were entranced by the exquisite beauty of those words.
It was quite obvious that he just hadn’t understood.
It could hardly be wondered at.
She had been deaf to his passionate entreaties for twenty years, and it was very natural if he had given up his quest as hopeless.
It was like Mount Everest; if those hardy mountaineers who had tried for so long in vain to reach the summit finally found an easy flight of steps that led to it, they simply would not believe their eyes: they would think there was a catch in it.
Julia felt that she must make herself a little plainer; she must, as it were, reach out a helping hand to the weary pilgrim.
‘It’s getting dreadfully late,’ she said softly.
‘Show me your new drawing and then I must go home.’
He rose and she gave him both her hands so that he should help her up from the sofa.
They went upstairs.
His pyjamas and dressing-gown were neatly arranged on a chair.
‘How well you single men do yourselves.
Such a cosy, friendly bedroom.’
He took the framed drawing off the wall and brought it over for her to look at under the light.
It was a portrait in pencil of a stoutish woman in a bonnet and a low-necked dress with puffed sleeves.
Julia thought her plain and the dress ridiculous.
‘Isn’t it ravishing?’ she cried.
‘I knew you’d like it.
A good drawing, isn’t it?’
‘Amazing.’
He put the little picture back on its nail.
When he turned round again she was standing near the bed with her hands behind her back, a little like a Circassian slave introduced by the chief eunuch to the inspection of the Grand Vizier; there was a hint of modest withdrawal in her bearing, a delicious timidity, and at the same time the virgin’s anticipation that she was about to enter into her kingdom.
Julia gave a sigh that was ever so slightly voluptuous.