all roads lead to calvary-第31部分

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is　eyes　were　no　longer　devouring　her。

〃You're　not　offended？〃　he　asked。　　〃At　my　thinking　you　beautiful？〃　he　added；　in　case　she　hadn't　understood。

She　laughed。　　Her　confidence　had　returned　to　her。　　〃It　doesn't　generally　offend　a　woman；〃　she　answered。

He　seemed　relieved。　　〃That's　what's　so　wonderful　about　you；〃　he　said。　　〃I've　met　plenty　of　clever；　brilliant　women；　but　one　could　forget　that　they　were　women。　　You're　everything。〃

He　pleaded；　standing　below　her　on　the　steps　of　the　hotel；　that　she　would　dine　with　him。　　But　she　shook　her　head。　　She　had　her　packing　to　do。　　She　could　have　managed　it；　but　something　prudent　and　absurd　had　suddenly　got　hold　of　her；　and　he　went　away　with　much　the　same　look　in　his　eyes　that　comes　to　a　dog　when　he　finds　that　his　master　cannot　be　persuaded　into　an　excursion。

She　went　up　to　her　room。　　There　really　was　not　much　to　do。　　She　could　quite　well　finish　her　packing　in　the　morning。　　She　sat　down　at　the　desk　and　set　to　work　to　arrange　her　papers。　　It　was　a　warm　spring　evening；　and　the　window　was　open。　　A　crowd　of　noisy　sparrows　seemed　to　be　delighted　about　something。　　From　somewhere；　unseen；　a　blackbird　was　singing。　　She　read　over　her　report　for　Mrs。　Denton。　The　blackbird　seemed　never　to　have　heard　of　war。　　He　sang　as　if　the　whole　world　were　a　garden　of　languor　and　love。　　Joan　looked　at　her　watch。　　The　first　gong　would　sound　in　a　few　minutes。　　She　pictured　the　dreary；　silent　dining…room　with　its　few　scattered　occupants；　and　her　heart　sank　at　the　prospect。　　To　her　relief　came　remembrance　of　a　cheerful　but　entirely　respectable　restaurant　near　to　the　Louvre　to　which　she　had　been　taken　a　few　nights　before。　　She　had　noticed　quite　a　number　of　women　dining　there　alone。　　She　closed　her　dispatch　case　with　a　snap　and　gave　a　glance　at　herself　in　the　great　mirror。　　The　blackbird　was　still　singing。

She　walked　up　the　Rue　des　Sts。　Peres；　enjoying　the　delicious　air。　Half　way　across　the　bridge　she　overtook　a　man；　strolling　listlessly　in　front　of　her。　　There　was　something　familiar　about　him。　　He　was　wearing　a　grey　suit　and　had　his　hands　in　his　pockets。　　Suddenly　the　truth　flashed　upon　her。　　She　stopped。　　If　he　strolled　on；　she　would　be　able　to　slip　back。　　Instead　of　which　he　abruptly　turned　to　look　down　at　a　passing　steamer；　and　they　were　face　to　face。

It　made　her　mad；　the　look　of　delight　that　came　into　his　eyes。　　She　could　have　boxed　his　ears。　　Hadn't　he　anything　else　to　do　but　hang　about　the　streets。

He　explained　that　he　had　been　listening　to　the　band　in　the　gardens；　returning　by　the　Quai　d'Orsay。

〃Do　let　me　come　with　you；〃　he　said。　　〃I　kept　myself　free　this　evening；　hoping。　　And　I'm　feeling　so　lonesome。〃

Poor　fellow！　　She　had　come　to　understand　that　feeling。　　After　all；　it　wasn't　altogether　his　fault　that　they　had　met。　　And　she　had　been　so　cross　to　him！

He　was　reading　every　expression　on　her　face。

〃It's　such　a　lovely　evening；〃　he　said。　　〃Couldn't　we　go　somewhere　and　dine　under　a　tree？〃

It　would　be　rather　pleasant。　　There　was　a　little　place　at　Meudon；　she　remembered。　　The　plane　trees　would　just　be　in　full　leaf。

A　passing　cab　had　drawn　up　close　to　them。　　The　chauffeur　was　lighting　his　pipe。

Even　Mrs。　Grundy　herself　couldn't　object　to　a　journalist　dining　with　a　politician！

The　stars　came　out　before　they　had　ended　dinner。　　She　had　made　him　talk　about　himself。　　It　was　marvellous　what　he　had　accomplished　with　his　opportunities。　　Ten　hours　a　day　in　the　mines　had　earned　for　him　his　living；　and　the　night　had　given　him　his　leisure。　　An　attic；　lighted　by　a　tallow　candle；　with　a　shelf　of　books　that　left　him　hardly　enough　for　bread；　had　been　his　Alma　Mater。　　History　was　his　chief　study。　　There　was　hardly　an　authority　Joan　could　think　of　with　which　he　was　not　familiar。　　Julius　Caesar　was　his　favourite　play。　　He　seemed　to　know　it　by　heart。　　At　twenty…three　he　had　been　elected　a　delegate；　and　had　entered　Parliament　at　twenty…eight。　　It　had　been　a　life　of　hardship；　of　privation；　of　constant　strain；　but　she　found　herself　unable　to　pity　him。　　It　was　a　tale　of　strength；　of　struggle；　of　victory；　that　he　told　her。

Strength！　　The　shaded　lamplight　fell　upon　his　fearless　kindly　face　with　its　flashing　eyes　and　its　humorous　mouth。　　He　ought　to　have　been　drinking　out　of　a　horn；　not　a　wine　glass　that　his　well…shaped　hand　could　have　crushed　by　a　careless　pressure。　　In　a　winged　helmet　and　a　coat　of　mail　he　would　have　looked　so　much　more　fitly　dressed　than　in　that　soft　felt　hat　and　ridiculous　blue　tie。

She　led　him　to　talk　on　about　the　future。　　She　loved　to　hear　his　clear；　confident　voice　with　its　touch　of　boyish　boastfulness。　　What　was　there　to　stop　him？　　Why　should　he　not　climb　from　power　to　power　till　he　had　reached　the　end！

And　as　he　talked　and　dreamed　there　grew　up　in　her　heart　a　fierce　anger。　　What　would　her　own　future　be？　　She　would　marry　probably　some　man　of　her　own　class；　settle　down　to　the　average　woman's　〃life〃；　be　allowed；　like　a　spoilt　child；　to　still　〃take　an　interest〃　in　public　affairs：　　hold　〃drawing…rooms〃　attended　by　cranks　and　political　nonentities：　　be　President；　perhaps；　of　the　local　Woman's　Liberal　League。　　The　alternative：　　to　spend　her　days　glued　to　a　desk；　penning　exhortations　to　the　people　that　Carleton　and　his　like　might　or　might　not　allow　them　to　read；　while　youth　and　beauty　slipped　away　from　her；　leaving　her　one　of　the　ten　thousand　other　lonely；　faded　women；　forcing　themselves　unwelcome　into　men's　jobs。　　There　came　to　her　a　sense　of　having　been　robbed　of　what　was　hers　by　primitive　eternal　law。　　Greyson　had　been　right。　　She　did　love　powerpower　to　serve　and　shape　the　world。　　She　would　have　earned　it　and　used　it　well。　　She　could　have　helped　him；　inspired　him。　　They　would　have　worked　together：　　he　the　force　and　she　the　guidance。　　She　would　have　supplied　the　things　he　lacked。　　It　was　to　her　he　came　for　counsel；　as　it　was。　　But　for　her　he　would　never　have　taken　the　first　step。　　What　right　had　this　poor　brainless　lump　of　painted　flesh　to　share　his　wounds；　his　triumphs？　　What　help　could　she　give　him　when　the　time　should　come　that　he　should　need　it？

Suddenly　he　broke　off。　　〃What　a　fool　I'm　making　of　myself；〃　he　said。　　〃I　always　was　a　dreamer。〃

She　forced　a　laugh。　　〃Why　shouldn't　it　come　true？〃　she　asked。

They　had　the　little　garden　to　themselves。　　The　million　lights　of　Paris　shone　below　them。

〃Because　you　won't　be　there；〃　he　answered；　〃and　without　you　I　can't　do　it。　　You　think　I'm　always　like　I　am　to…night；　bragging；　confident。　　So　I　am　when　you　are　with　me。　　You　give　me　back　my　strength。　　The　plans　and　hopes　and　dreams　that　were　slipping　from　me　come　crowding　round　me；　laughing　and　holding　out　their　hands。　They　are　like　the　children。　　They　need　two　to　care　for　them。　　I　want　to　talk　about　them　to　someone　who　understands　them　and　loves　them；　as　I　do。　　I　want　to　feel　they　are　dear　to　someone　else；　as　well　as　to　myself：　　that　I　must　work　for　them　for　her　sake；　as　well　as　for　my　own。　　I　want　someone　to　help　me　to　bring　them　up。〃

There　were　tears　in　his　eyes。　　He　brushed　them　angrily　away。　　〃Oh；　I　know　I　ought　to　be　ashamed　of　myself；〃　he　said。　　〃It　wasn't　her　fault。　　She　wasn't　to　know　that　a　hot…blooded　young　chap　of　twenty　hasn't　all　his　wits　about　him；　any　more　than　I　was。　　If　I　had　never　met　you；　it　wouldn't　have　mattered。　　I'd　have　done　my　bit　of　good；　and　have　stopped　there；　content。　　With　you　beside　me〃he　looked　away　from　her　to　where　the　silent　city　peeped　through　its　veil　of　night〃I　might　have　left　the　world　better　than　I　found　it。〃

The　blood　had　mounted　to　her　face。　　She　drew　back　into　the　shadow；　beyond　the　tiny　sphere　of　light　made　by　the　little　lamp。

〃Men　have　accomplished　great　things　without　a　woman's　help；〃　she　said。

〃Some　men；〃　he　answered。　　〃Artists　and　poets。　　They　have　the　woman　within　them。　　Men　like　myselfthe　mere　fighter：　　we　are　incomplete　in　ourselves。　　Male　and　female　created　He　them。　　We　are　lost　without　our　mate。〃

He　was　thinking　only　of　himself。　　Had　he　no　pity　for　her。　　So　was　she；　also；　useless　without　her　mate。　　Neither　was　she　of　those；　here　and　there；　who　can　stand　alone。　　Her　task　was　that　of　the　eternal　woman：　　to　make　a　home：　　to　cleanse　the　world　of　sin　and　sorrow；　make　it　a　kinder　dwelling…place　for　the　children　that　should　come。　　This　man　was　her　true　helpmeet。　　He　would　have　been　her　weapon；　her　dear　servant；　and　she　could　have　rewarded　him　as　none　other　ever　could。　　The　lamplight　fell　upon　his　ruddy　face；　his　strong　white　hands　resting　on　the　flimsy　table。　　He　belonged　to　an　older　order　than　her　own。　　That　suggestion　about　him　of　something　primitive；　of　something　not　yet　altogether　tamed。　　She　felt　again　that　slight　thrill　of　fear　that　so　strangely　excited　her。　　A　mist　seemed　to　be　obscuring　all　things。　　He　seemed　to　be　coming　towards　her。　　Only　by　keeping　her　eyes　fixed　on　his　moveless　hands；　still　resting　on　the　table；　could　she　convince　herself　that　his　arms　were　not　closing　about　her；　that　she　was　not　being　drawn　nearer　and　nearer　to　him；　powerless　to　resist。

Suddenly；　out　of　the　mist；　she　heard　voices。　　The　waiter　was　standing　beside　him　with　the　bill。　　She　reached　out　her　hand　and　took　it。　　The　usual　few　mistakes　had　occurred。　　She　explained　them；　good　temperedly；　and　the　waiter；　with　profuse　apologies；　went　back　to