Villette (Barnes & Noble Classics) - Charlotte Bronte [115]
‘Hush!’ said he, ‘don’t go on.’
‘Hush, I will not and go on I will: Ginevra has had her hands filled from your hands more times than I can count. You have sought for her the costliest flowers; you have busied your brain in devising gifts, the most delicate: such, one would have thought, as only a woman could have imagined; and in addition, Miss Fanshawe owns a set of ornaments, to purchase which your generosity must have verged on extravagance.’
The modesty Ginevra herself had never evinced in this matter, now flushed all over the face of her admirer.
‘Nonsense!’ he said, destructively snipping a skein of silk with my scissors. ‘I offered them to please myself: I felt she did me a favour in accepting them.’
‘She did more than a favour, Dr. John: she pledged her very honour that she would make you some return; and if she cannot pay you in affection, she ought to hand out a business-like equivalent, in the shape of some rouleaux of gold pieces.’
‘But you don’t understand her; she is far too disinterested to care for my gifts, and too simple-minded to know their value.’
I laughed out: I had heard her adjudge to every jewel its price; and well I knew money-embarrassment, money-schemes, money’s worth, and endeavours to realize supplies, had, young as she was, furnished the most frequent, and the favourite stimulus of her thoughts for years.
He pursued. ‘You should have seen her whenever I have laid on her lap some trifle; so cool, so unmoved: no eagerness to take, not even pleasure in contemplating. Just from amiable reluctance to grieve me, she would permit the bouquet to lie beside her, and perhaps consent to bear it away. Or, if I achieved the fastening of a bracelet on her ivory arm, however pretty the trinket might be (and I always carefully chose what seemed to me pretty, and what of course was not valueless), the glitter never dazzled her bright eyes: she would hardly cast one look on my gift.’
‘Then, of course, not valuing it, she would unloose, and return it to you?’
‘No; for such a repulse she was too good-natured. She would consent to seem to forget what I had done, and retain the offering with lady-like quiet and easy oblivion. Under such circumstances, how can a man build on acceptance of his presents as a favourable symptom? For my part, were I to offer her all I have, and she to take it, such is her incapacity to be swayed by sordid considerations, I should not venture to believe the transaction advanced me one step.’
‘Dr. John,’ I began, ‘Love is blind;’ but just then a blue, subtle ray sped sideways from Dr. John’s eye: it reminded me of old days, it reminded me of his picture: it half led me to think that part, at least, of his professed persuasion of Miss Fanshawe’s naïveté was assumed; it led me dubiously to conjecture that perhaps, in spite of his passion for her beauty, his appreciation of her foibles might possibly be less mistaken, more clear-sighted, than from his general language was presumable. After all it might be only a chance look, or at best, the token of a merely momentary impression. Chance or intentional, real or imaginary, it closed the conversation.
CHAPTER 19
The Cleopatra
My stay at La Terrasse was prolonged a fortnight beyond the close of the vacation. Mrs. Bretton’s kind management procured me this respite. Her son having one day delivered the dictum that ‘Lucy was not yet strong enough to go back to that den of a Pensionnat,’ she at once drove over to the Rue Fossette, had an interview with the directress, and procured the indulgence, on the plea of prolonged rest and change being necessary to perfect recovery. Hereupon, however, followed an attention I could very well have dispensed with, viz—a polite call from Madame Beck.
That lady—one fine day—actually came out in a fiacre as far as the chateau. I suppose she had resolved within