One of Our Conquerors - World eBook Library

George Meredith
‘Number your loves. It would tax your arithmetic.’
‘I can hate.’
‘Not me?’
Positively the contrary, an impulsive squeeze of fingers declared
it; and they broke the link, neither of them sensibly
hurt; though a leaf or two of the ingenuities, which were her
thoughts, turned over in the phantasies of the lady; and the
gentleman was taught to feel that a never so slightly lengthened
compression of the hand female shoots within us both
straight and far and round the corners. There you have Nature,
if you want her naked in her elements, for a text. He
loved his Nataly truly, even fervently, after the twenty years
of union; he looked about at no other woman; it happened
only that the touch of one, the chance warm touch, put to
motion the blind forces of our mother so remarkably surcharging
him. But it was without kindling. The lady, the
much cooler person, did nurse a bit of flame. She had a whimsical
liking for the man who enjoyed simple things when
commanding the luxuries; and it became a fascination, by
extreme contrast, at the reminder of his adventurous enterprises
in progress while he could so childishly enjoy. Women
who dance with the warrior-winner of battles, and hear him
talk his ball-room trifles to amuse, have similarly a smell of
gunpowder to intoxicate them.
For him, a turn on the deck brought him into new skies.
Nataly lay in the cabin. She used to be where Lady Grace
was lying. A sort of pleadable, transparent, harmless hallucination
of the renewal of old service induced him to refresh
and settle the fair semi-slumberer’s pillow, and fix the tarpaulin
over her silks and wraps; and bend his head to the
soft mouth murmuring thanks. The women who can dare
the nuit blanche, and under stars; and have a taste for holiday
larks after their thirtieth, are rare; they are precious. Nataly
nevertheless was approved for guarding her throat from the
nightwind. And a softer southerly breath never crossed Channel!
The very breeze he had wished for! Luck was with him.
Nesta sat by the rails of the vessel beside her Louise. Mr.
Sowerby in passing, exchanged a description of printed agreement
with her, upon the beauty of the night—a good neutral
topic for the encounter of the sexes not that he wanted it neutral;
it furnished him with a vocabulary. Once he perceptibly
washed his hands of dutiful politeness, in addressing Made-
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