The Last Chronicle of Barset [428]
Maria was childish and selfish I always knew;--but I thought there was some heart--a vestige of heart. I found today that there was none--none. If you please we won't speak of her any more.'
'Certainly not,' said Johnny.
'You need not wonder that I am tired and feverish.'
'That sort of thing is fatiguing, I daresay. I don't know whether we do not lose more than we gain by those strong emotions.'
'I would rather die and go beneath the sod at once, than live without them,' said Madalina.
'It's a matter of taste,' said Johnny.
'It is there that the poor wretch is so deficient. She is thinking now, this moment, of nothing but her creature comforts. That tragedy has not even stirred her pulses.'
'If her pulses were stirred ever so, that would not make her happy.'
'Happy! Who is happy? Are you happy?'
Johnny thought of Lily Dale and paused before he answered. No; certainly he was not happy. But he was not going to talk about his unhappiness with Miss Demolines! 'Of course I am;--as jolly as a sandboy,' he said.
'Mr Eames,' said Madalina raising herself on her sofa, 'if you can not express yourself in language more suitable to the occasion and to the scene than that, I think that you had better--'
'Hold my tongue.'
'Just so;--though I should not have chosen myself to use words so abruptly discourteous.'
'What did I say:--jolly as a sandboy? There is nothing wrong in that. What I meant was that I think that the world is a very good sort of world, and that a man can get along in it very well if he minds his p's and q's.'
'But suppose it's a woman?'
'Easier still.'
'And suppose she does not mind her p's and q's?'
'Women always do.'
'Do they? Your knowledge of women goes as far as that, does it? Tell me fairly;--do you think you know anything about women?' Madalina as she asked the question, looked full into his face, and shook her locks and smiled. When she shook her locks and smiled, there was a certain attraction about her of which John Eames was fully sensible. She could throw a special brightness into her eyes, which, though it probably betokened nothing beyond ill-natured mischief, seemed to convey a promise of wit and intellect.
'I don't mean to make any boast about it,' said Johnny.
'I doubt whether you know anything. The pretty simplicity of your excellent Lily Dale has sufficed for you.'
'Never mind about her,' said Johnny impatiently.
'I do not mind about her in the least. But an insight into that sort of simplicity will not teach the character of a real woman. You cannot learn the flavour of wines by sipping sherry and water. For myself I do not think that I am simple. I own it fairly. If you must have simplicity, I cannot be to your taste.'
'Nobody likes partridge always,' said Johnny, laughing.
'I understand you, sir. And though what you say is not complimentary, I am willing to forgive that fault for its truth. I don't consider myself to be always a partridge, I can assure you. I am as changeable as the moon.'
'And as fickle?'
'I say nothing about that, sir. I leave you to find that out. It is a man's business to discover that for himself. If you really do know aught of women--'
'I did not say that I did.'
'But if you do, you will perhaps have discovered that a woman may be as changeable as the moon, and yet as true as the sun;--that she may flit from flower to flower, quite unheeding while no passion exists, but that a passion fixes her at once. Do you believe me?' Now she looked into his eyes again, but did not smile and did not shake her locks.
'Oh, yes;--that's true enough. And when they have a lot of children, then they become steady as milestones.'
'Children!' said Madalina, getting up and walking about the room.
'They do have them, you know,' said Johnny.
'Do you mean to say, sir, that I should be a milestone?'
'A finger-post,' said Johnny, 'to show a fellow the way he ought to go.'
She walked twice across the room without speaking. Then she came and stood opposite him, still without speaking--and
'Certainly not,' said Johnny.
'You need not wonder that I am tired and feverish.'
'That sort of thing is fatiguing, I daresay. I don't know whether we do not lose more than we gain by those strong emotions.'
'I would rather die and go beneath the sod at once, than live without them,' said Madalina.
'It's a matter of taste,' said Johnny.
'It is there that the poor wretch is so deficient. She is thinking now, this moment, of nothing but her creature comforts. That tragedy has not even stirred her pulses.'
'If her pulses were stirred ever so, that would not make her happy.'
'Happy! Who is happy? Are you happy?'
Johnny thought of Lily Dale and paused before he answered. No; certainly he was not happy. But he was not going to talk about his unhappiness with Miss Demolines! 'Of course I am;--as jolly as a sandboy,' he said.
'Mr Eames,' said Madalina raising herself on her sofa, 'if you can not express yourself in language more suitable to the occasion and to the scene than that, I think that you had better--'
'Hold my tongue.'
'Just so;--though I should not have chosen myself to use words so abruptly discourteous.'
'What did I say:--jolly as a sandboy? There is nothing wrong in that. What I meant was that I think that the world is a very good sort of world, and that a man can get along in it very well if he minds his p's and q's.'
'But suppose it's a woman?'
'Easier still.'
'And suppose she does not mind her p's and q's?'
'Women always do.'
'Do they? Your knowledge of women goes as far as that, does it? Tell me fairly;--do you think you know anything about women?' Madalina as she asked the question, looked full into his face, and shook her locks and smiled. When she shook her locks and smiled, there was a certain attraction about her of which John Eames was fully sensible. She could throw a special brightness into her eyes, which, though it probably betokened nothing beyond ill-natured mischief, seemed to convey a promise of wit and intellect.
'I don't mean to make any boast about it,' said Johnny.
'I doubt whether you know anything. The pretty simplicity of your excellent Lily Dale has sufficed for you.'
'Never mind about her,' said Johnny impatiently.
'I do not mind about her in the least. But an insight into that sort of simplicity will not teach the character of a real woman. You cannot learn the flavour of wines by sipping sherry and water. For myself I do not think that I am simple. I own it fairly. If you must have simplicity, I cannot be to your taste.'
'Nobody likes partridge always,' said Johnny, laughing.
'I understand you, sir. And though what you say is not complimentary, I am willing to forgive that fault for its truth. I don't consider myself to be always a partridge, I can assure you. I am as changeable as the moon.'
'And as fickle?'
'I say nothing about that, sir. I leave you to find that out. It is a man's business to discover that for himself. If you really do know aught of women--'
'I did not say that I did.'
'But if you do, you will perhaps have discovered that a woman may be as changeable as the moon, and yet as true as the sun;--that she may flit from flower to flower, quite unheeding while no passion exists, but that a passion fixes her at once. Do you believe me?' Now she looked into his eyes again, but did not smile and did not shake her locks.
'Oh, yes;--that's true enough. And when they have a lot of children, then they become steady as milestones.'
'Children!' said Madalina, getting up and walking about the room.
'They do have them, you know,' said Johnny.
'Do you mean to say, sir, that I should be a milestone?'
'A finger-post,' said Johnny, 'to show a fellow the way he ought to go.'
She walked twice across the room without speaking. Then she came and stood opposite him, still without speaking--and