THE GOLDEN BOWL 267 2 page

She had this morning a wonderful consciousness both of dreading a particular question from him and of being able to check, yes even to disconcert, magnificently, by her apparent manner of receiving it, any restless imagination he might have about its importance. The day, bright and soft, had the breath of summer; it made them talk, to begin with, of Fawns, of the wayFawns invited - Maggie aware, the while, that in thus regarding, with him,the sweetness of its invitation to one couple just as much as to another,her humbugging smile grew very nearly convulsive. That wasit, andthere was relief truly, of a sort, in taking it in: she was humbugginghim already, by absolute necessity, as she had never, never donein herlife - doing it up to the

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full height of what she had allowed for. The necessity, in the great dimly-shining room where, declining, for his reasons, to sit down, he moved about in Amerigo's very footsteps, the necessity affected her as pressing upon her with the very force of the charm itself; of the old pleasantness, between them, so candidly playing up there again; of the positive flatness of their tenderness, a surface all for familiar use, quite as if generalised from the long succession of tapestried sofas, sweetly faded, on which his theory of contentment had sat, through unmeasured pauses, beside her own. She knew, from this instant, knew in advance and as well as anything would ever teach her, that she must never intermit for a solitary second her so highly undertak­ing to prove that there was nothing the matter with her. She saw, of a sudden, everything she might say or do in the light of that undertaking, established connections from it with any number of remote matters, struck herself, for instance, as acting all in its interest when she proposed their going out, in the exercise of their freedom and in homage to the season, for a turn in the Regent's Park. This resort was close at hand, at the top of Portland Place, and the Principino, beautifully better, had already proceeded there under high attendance: all of which considerations were defensive for Maggie, all of which became, to her mind, part of the business of cultivating continuity.

Upstairs, while she left him to put on something to go out in, the thought of his waiting below for her, in possession of the empty house, brought with it, sharply if briefly, one of her abrupt arrests of consistency, die brush of a vain imagination almost paralysing her, often, for the minute, before her glass - the vivid look, in other words, of the particular difference his marriage had made. The particular difference seemed at such instants the loss, more than anything else, of their old freedom, their never having had to think, where they were togedier concerned, of anyone, of anything but each other. It hadn't been her marriage that did it; that had never, for three seconds, suggested to either of them that they must act diplomati­cally, must reckon with another presence - no, not even with her husband's. She groaned to herself, while the vain imagination lasted, ^lWhy did he marry? ah, why did he?' and then it came up to her more than ever that nothing could have been more beautiful than the way in which, till Charlotte came so much more closely into their life, Amerigo hadn't interfered. What she had gone on owing him for this mounted up again, to her eyes, like a column of figures - or call it even, if one would, a house of cards; it was her father's wonderful act that had tipped the house down and made the sum wrong. With all of

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which, immediately after her question, her 'Why did he, why did he?' rushed back, inevitably, the confounding, the overwhelming wave of the knowledge of his reason. 'He did it for me, he did it for me,' she moaned, 'he did it, exactly, that our freedom - meaning, beloved man, simply and solely mine - should be greater instead of less; he did it, divinely, to liberate me so far as possible from caring what became of him.' She found time upstairs, even in her haste, as she had repeatedly found time before, to let the wonderments involved in these recognitions flash at her with their customary effect of making her blink: the question in especial of whether she might find her solution in acting, herself, in the spirit of what he had done, in forcing her 'care' really to grow as much less as he had tried to make it. Thus she felt the whole weight of their case drop afresh upon her shoulders, was confronted, unniistakably, with the prime source of her haunted state. It all came from her not having been able not to mind - not to mind what became of him; not having been able, without anxiety, to let him go his way and take his risk and lead his life. She had made anxiety her stupid little idol; and absolutely now, while she stuck a long pin, a trifle fallaciously, into her hat - she had, with an approach to irritation, told her maid, a new woman, whom she had lately found herself thinking of as abysmal, that she didn't want her - she tried to focus the possibility of some understanding between them in consequence of which he should cut loose.

Very near indeed it looked, any such possibility! - that conscious­ness, too, had taken its turn by the time she was ready; all the vibration, all the emotion of this present passage being, precisely, in the very sweetness of their lapse back into the conditions of the simpler time, into a queer resemblance between the aspect and the feeling of the moment and those of numberless other moments that were sufficiently far away. She had been quick in her preparation, in spite of the flow of the tide that sometimes took away her breath; but a pause, once more, was still left for her to make, a pause, at the top of the stairs, before she came down to him, in the span of which she asked herself if it weren't thinkable, from the perfectly practical point of view, that she should simply sacrifice him. She didn't go into the detail of what sacrificing him would mean - she didn't need to; so distinct was it, in one of her restless lights, that there he was awaiting her, that she should find him walking up and down the drawing-room in the warm, fragrant air to which the open windows and the abundant flowers contributed; slowly and vaguely moving there and looking very slight and young and, superficially, manageable, almost as much like her child, putting it a little freely, as like her parent; with

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the appearance about him, above all, of having perhaps arrived just on purpose to say it to her, himself, in so many words: 'Sacrifice me, my own love; do sacrifice me, do sacrifice me!' Should she want to, should she insist on it, she might verily hear him bleating it jit her, all conscious and all accommodating, like some precious, spotless, exceptionally intelligent lamb. The positive effect of the intensity of this figure, however, was to make her shake it away in her resumed descent; and after she had rejoined him, after she had picked him up, she was to know the full pang of the thought that her impossibility was made, absolutely, by his consciousness, by the lucidity of his intention: this she felt while she smiled there for him, again, all hypocritically; while she drew on fair, fresh gloves; while she interrupted the process first to give his necktie a slightly smarter twist and then to make up to him for her hidden madness by rubbing her nose into his cheek according to the tradition of their frankest levity. From die instant she should be able to convict him of intending, every issue would be closed and her hypocrisy would have to redouble. The only way to sacrifice him would be to do so without his dreaming what it might be for. She kissed him, she arranged his cravat, she dropped remarks, she guided him out, she held his arm, not to be led, but to lead him, and taking it to her by much the same intimate pressure she had always used, when a little girl, to mark the inseparability of her doll - she did all these things so that he should sufficiently fail to dream of what they might be for.

Chapter 29

There was nothing to show that her effort in any degree fell short till they got well into the Park and he struck her as giving, unexpectedly, the go-by to any serious search for the Principino. The way they sat down awhile in die sun was a sign of that; his dropping with her into the first pair of sequestered chairs they came across and waiting a little, after they were placed, as if now at last she might bring out, as between them, something more specific. It made her but feel die more sharply how the specific, in almost any direction, was utterly forbidden her - how the use of it would be, for all the world, like undoing the leash of a dog eager to follow up a scent. It would come out, the specific, where the dog would come out; would run to earth, somehow, the truth - for she was believing herself in

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relation to the truth! - at which she mustn't so much as indirectly point. Such, at any rate, was the fashion in which her passionate prudence played over possibilities of danger, reading symptoms and betrayals into everything she looked at, and yet having to make it evident, while she recognised them, that she didn't wince. There were moments between them, in their chairs, when he might have been watching her guard herself and trying to think of something new that would trip her up. There were pauses during which, with her affection as sweet and still as the sunshine, she might yet, as at some hard game, over a table, for money, have been defying him to fasten upon her the least little complication of consciousness. She was positively proud, afterwards, of the great style in which she had kept this up; later on, at the hour's end, when they had retraced their steps to find Amerigo and Charlotte awaiting them at the house, she was able to say to herself that, truly, she had put her plan through; even though once more setting herself the difficult task of making their relation, every minute of the time, not fall below the standard of that other hour, in the treasured past, which hung there behind them like a framed picture in a museum, a high watermark for the history of their old fortune; the summer evening, in the park at Fawns, when, side by side under the trees just as now, they had let their happy confidence lull them with its most golden tone. There had been the possibility of a trap for her, at present, in the very question of their taking up anew that residence; wherefore she had not been the first to sound it, in spite of the impression from him of his holding off to see what she would do. She was saying to herself in secret: 'Can we again, in this form, migrate there? Can I, for myself, undertake it? face all the intenser keeping-up and stretching-out, indefinitely, impossibly, that our conditions in the country, as we've established and accepted them, would stand for?' She had positively lost herself in this inward doubt - so much she was subsequently to remember; but remember­ing then too that her companion, though perceptibly perhaps as if not to be eager, had broken the ice very much as he had broken it in Eaton Square after the banquet to the Castledeans.

Her mind had taken a long excursion, wandered far into the vision of what a summer at Fawns, with Amerigo and Charlotte still more eminently in presence against that highersky, would bring forth. Wasn't her father meanwhile only pretendingto talk of it? - just as she was, in a manner, pretending to listen?He got off it, finally, at all events, for the transition it couldn't well helpthrusting out at him; it had amounted exactly to an arrestof her privateexcursion by the sense that he had begun to imitate - oh, as neveryet! - the ancient

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tone of gold. It had verily come from him at last, the question of whether she thought it would be very good - but very good indeed -that he should leave England for a series of weeks, on some pretext, with the Prince. Then it had been that she was to know her husband's 'menace' hadn't really dropped, since she was face to face with the effect of it. Ah, the effect of it had occupied all the rest of their walk, had stayed out with them and come home with them, besides making it impossible that they shouldn't presently feign to recollect how rejoining the child had been their original purpose. Maggie's uneffaced note was that it had, at the end of five minutes more, driven them to that endeavour as to a refuge, and caused them afterwards to rejoice, as well, that the boy's irrepressibly importunate company, in due course secured and enjoyed, with the extension imparted by his governess, a person expectant of consideration, constituted a cover for any awkwardness. For that was what it had all come to, that the dear man had spoken to her to try her - quite as he had been spoken to himself by Charlotte, with the same fine idea. The Princess took it in, on the spot, firmly grasping it; she heard them together, her father and his wife, dealing with the queer case. 'The Prince tells me that Maggie has a plan for your taking some foreign journey with him, and, as he likes to do everything she wants, he has suggested my speaking to you for it as the thing most likely to make you consent. So I do speak - see? - being always so eager myself, as you know, to meet Maggie's wishes. I speak, but without quite understanding, this time, what she has in her head. Why should she, of a sudden, at this particular moment, desire to ship you off together and to remain here alone with me? The compliment's all to me, I admit, and you must decide quite as you like. The Prince is quite ready, evidently, to do his part - but you'll have it out with him. That is you'll have it out with her.' Something of that kind was what, in her mind's ear, Maggie heard - and this, after his waiting for her to appeal to him directly, was her father's invitation to her to have it out. Well, as she could say to herself all the rest of the day, that was what they did while they continued to sit there in their penny chairs, that was what they had done as much as they would now ever, ever, have out anything. The measure of this, at least, had been given, that each would fight to the last for the protection, for the perversion, of any real anxiety. She had confessed, instantly, with her humbugging grin, not flinching by a hair, meeting his eyes as mildly as he met hers, she had confessed to her fancy that they might both, he and his son-in-law, have welcomed such an escapade, since they had both been so long so furiously domestic. She had almost cocked her hat under the

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inspiration of this opportunity to hint how a couple of spirited young men, reacting from confinement and sallying forth arm-in-arm, might encounter the agreeable in forms that would strike them for the time at least as novel. She had felt for fifty seconds, with her eyes, so sweetly and falsely, in her companion's, horribly vulgar; yet without minding it either - such luck should she have if to be nothing worse than vulgar would see her through. 'And I thought Amerigo might like it better,' she had said, 'than wandering off alone.'

'Do you mean that he won't go unless I take him?'

She had considered here, and never in her life had she considered so promptly and so intently. If she really put it that way, her husband, challenged, might belie the statement; so that what would that do but make her father wonder, make him perhaps ask straight out, why she was exerting pressure? She couldn't of course afford to be suspected for an instant of exerting pressure; which was why she was obliged only to make answer: 'Wouldn't that be just what you must have out with him}'

'Decidedly - if he makes me the proposal. But he hasn't made it yet.'

Oh, once more, how she was to feel she had smirked! 'Perhaps he's too shy!'

'Because you're so sure he so really wants my company?'

'I think he has thought you might like it.'

'Well, I should - !' But with this he looked away from her, and she held her breath to hear him either ask if she wished him to address the question to Amerigo straight, or inquire if she should be greatly disappointed by his letting it drop. What had 'settled' her, as she was privately to call it, was that he had done neither of these things, and had thereby markedly stood off from the risk involved in trying to draw out her reason. To attenuate, on the other hand, this appear­ance, and quite as if to fill out the too large receptacle made, so musingly, by his abstention, he had himself presently given her a reason - had positively spared herthe effort of asking whether he judged Charlotte not to have approved. He had taken everything on himself- that was what had settled her. She had had to wait very little more to feel, with this, how much he was taking. The point he made was his lack of any eagerness to puttime and space, on any such scale, between himself and his wife. He wasn't sounhappy with her - far from it, and Maggie was to hold that he had grinnedback, paternally, through his rather shielding glasses,in easyemphasis of this - as to be able to hint that he required the relief ofabsence. Therefore, unless it was for the Prince himself- !

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'Oh, I don't think it would have been for Amerigo himself. Amerigo and I,' Maggie had said, 'perfectly rub on together.'

'Well then, there we are.'

'I see' - and she had again, with sublime blandness, assented. 'There we are.'

'Charlotte and I too,' her father had gaily proceeded, 'perfectly rub on together.' And then he had appeared for a little to be making time. 'To put it only so,' he had mildly and happily added - 'to put it only so!' He had spoken as if he might easily put it much better, yet as if the humour of contented understatement fairly sufficed for the occasion. He had played then, either all consciously or all unconsciously, into Charlotte's hands; and the effect of this was to render trebly oppressive Maggie's conviction of Charlotte's plan. She had done what she wanted, his wife had - which was also what Amerigo had made her do. She had kept her test, Maggie's test, from becoming possible, and had applied instead a test of her own. It was exactly as if she had known that her stepdaughter would be afraid to be sum­moned to say, under the least approach to cross-examination, why any change was desirable; and it was, for our young woman herself, still more prodigiously, as if her father had been capable of calcula­tions to match, of judging it important he shouldn't be brought to demand of her what was the matter with her. Why otherwise, with such an opportunity, hadn't he demanded it? Always from calculation - that was why, that was why. He was terrified of the retort he might have invoked: 'What, my dear, if you come to that, is the matter with you?' When, a minute later on, he had followed up his last note by a touch or two designed still further to conjure away the ghost of the anomalous, at that climax verily she would have had to be dumb to the question. 'There seems a kind of charm, doesn't there? on our life -and quite as if, just lately, it had got itself somehow renewed, had waked up refreshed. A kind of wicked selfish prosperity perhaps, as if we had grabbed everything, fixed everything, down to the last lovely object for the last glass case of the last corner, left over, of my old show. That's the only take-off, that it has made us perhaps lazy, a wee bit languid - lying like gods together, all careless of mankind.'

'Do you consider that we're languid?' - that form of rejoinder she had jumped at for the sake of its pretty lightness. 'Do you consider that we are careless of mankind? - living as we do in the biggest crowd in the world, and running about always pursued and pursuing.'

It had made him think indeed a little longer than she had meant; but he came up again, as she might have said, smiling. 'Well, I don't know. We get nothing but the fun, do we?'

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'No,' she had hastened to declare; 'we certainly get nothing but the fun.'

'We do it all,' he had remarked, 'so beautifully.'

'We do it all so beautifully.' She hadn't denied this for a moment. 'I see what you mean.'

'Well, I mean too,' he had gone on, 'that we haven't, no doubt, enough, the sense of difficulty.'

'Enough? Enough for what?'

'Enough not to be selfish.'

'I don't think you are selfish,' she had returned - and had managed not to wail it.

'I don't say that it's me particularly - or that it's you or Charlotte or Amerigo. But we're selfish together - we move as a selfish mass. You see we want always the same thing,' he had gone on - 'and that holds us, that binds us, together. We want each other,' he had further explained; 'only wanting it, each time, for each other. That's what I call the happy spell; but it's also, a little, possibly, the immorality.'

' "The immorality"?' she had pleasantly echoed.

'Well, we're tremendously moral for ourselves - that is for each other; and I won't pretend that I know exactly at whose particular personal expense you and I, for instance, are happy. What it comes to, I dare say, is that there's something haunting - as if it were a bit uncanny - in such a consciousness of our general comfort and privilege. Unless indeed,' he had rambled on, 'it's only I to whom, fantastically, it says so much. That's all I mean, at any rate - that it's "sort of soothing; as if we were sitting about on divans, with pigtails, smoking opium and seeing visions. "Let us then be up and doing"⁹³ -what is it Longfellow says? That seems sometimes to ring out; like the police breaking in - into our opium den - to give us a shake. But the beauty of it is, at the same time, that we are doing; we're doing, that is, after all, what we went in for. We're working it, our life, our chance, whatever you may call it, aswe saw it, as we felt it, from the first. We have worked it, and what more can you do than that? It's a good deal for me,' he had wound up, 'to have made Charlotte so happy - to have so perfectly contented her.You, from a good way back, were a matter of course -1 meanyour being all right; so that I needn't mind your knowing that my greatinterest, since then, has rather inevitably been in making sureof thesame success, very much to your advantage as well, for Charlotte. Ifwe've worked our life, our idea really, as I say - if at any rate I cansit here and say that I've worked my share of it - it has not been whatyou may call least by our

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having put Charlotte so at her ease. That has been soothing, all round; that has curled up as the biggest of the blue fumes, or whatever they are, of the opium. Don't you see what a cropper we would have come if she hadn't settled down as she has?' And he had concluded by turning to Maggie as for something she mightn't really have thought of. 'You, darling, in that case, I verily believe, would have been the one to hate it most.'

'To hate it - ?' Maggie had wondered.

'To hate our having, with our tremendous intentions, not brought it off. And I dare say I should have hated it for you even more than for myself.'

'That's not unlikely perhaps when it was for me, after all, that you did it.'

He had hesitated, but only a moment. 'I never told you so.'

'Well, Charlotte herself soon enough told me.'

'But I never told her' her father had answered.

'Are you very sure?' she had presently asked.

'Well, I like to think how thoroughly I was taken with her, and how right I was, and how fortunate, to have that for my basis. I told her all the good I thought of her.'

'Then mat,' Maggie had returned, 'was precisely part of the good. I mean it was precisely part of it that she could so beautifully understand.'

'Yes - understand everything.'

'Everything - and in particular your reasons. Her telling me - that showed me how she had understood.'

They were face to face again now, and she saw she had made his colour rise; it was as if he were still finding in her eyes the concrete image, the enacted scene, of her passage with Charlotte, which he was now hearing of for the first time and as to which it would have been natural he should question her further. His forbearance to do so would but mark, precisely, the complication of his fears. 'What she does like,' he finally said, 'is the way it has succeeded.'

'Your marriage?'

'Yes - my whole idea. The way I've been justified. That's the joy I give her. If for her, either, it had failed - !' That, however, was not worth talking about; he had broken off. 'You think then you could now risk Fawns?'

' "Risk" it?'

'Well, morally - from the point of view I was talking of; that of our sinking deeper into sloth. Our selfishness, somehow, seems at its biggest down there.'

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Maggie had allowed him the amusement of her not taking this up. 'Is Charlotte,' she had simply asked, 'really ready?'

'Oh, if you and I and Amerigo are. Whenever one corners Charlotte,' he had developed more at his ease, 'one finds that she only wants to know what we want. Which is what we got her for!'

'What we got her for - exactly!' And so, for a little, even though with a certain effect of oddity in their more or less successful ease, they left it; left it till Maggie made the remark that it was all the same wonderful her stepmother should be willing, before the season was out, to exchange so much company for so much comparative solitude.

'Ah,' he had then made answer, 'that's because her idea, I think, this time, is that we shall have more people, more than we've hitherto had, in the country. Don't you remember that that, originally, was what we were to get her for?'

'Oh yes - to give us a life.' Maggie had gone through the form of recalling this, and the light of their ancient candour, shining from so far back, had seemed to bring out some things so strangely that, with the sharpness of the vision, she had risen to her feet. 'Well, with a "life" Fawns will certainly do.' He had remained in his place while she looked over his head; the picture, in her vision, had suddenly swarmed. The vibration was that of one of the lurches of the mystic train in which, with her companion, she was travelling; but she was having to steady herself, this time, before meeting his eyes. She had measured indeed the full difference between the move to Fawns because each of them now knew the others wanted it and the pairing-off, for a journey, of her husband and her father, which nobody knew that either wanted. 'More company' at Fawns would be effectually enough the key in which her husband and her stepmother were at work; there was truly no question but that she and her father must accept any array of visitors. No one could try to marry him now. What he had just said was a direct plea for that, and what was the plea itself but an act of submission to Charlotte? He had, from his chair, been noting her look, but he had, the next minute, also risen, and then it was they had reminded each other of their having come out for the boy. Their junction with him and with his companion successfully effected, the four had moved home more slowly, and still more vaguely; yet with a vagueness that permitted of Maggie's reverting an instant to the larger issue. 'If we have people in the country then, as you were saying, do you know for whom my first fancy would be? You may be amused, but it would be for the Castledeans.'

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'I see. But why should I be amused?'

'Well, I mean I am myself. I don't think I like her - and yet I like to see her: which, as Amerigo says, is "rum." '

'But don't you feel she's very handsome?' her father inquired.

'Yes, but it isn't for that.'

'Then what is it for?'

'Simply that she may be there - just there before us. It's as if she may have a value - as if something may come of her. I don't in the least know what, and she rather irritates me meanwhile. I don't even know, I admit, why - but if we see her often enough I may find out.'

'Does it matter so very much?' her companion had asked while they moved together.

She had hesitated. 'You mean because you do rather like her?'

Date: 2015-12-17; view: 667