Part 104 (2/2)
”And you,--you feel like a naughty boy, do you not, in thus coming out on a Sunday morning?”
”Do you feel like a naughty girl?”
”Yes;--just a little so. I do not know that I should care for everybody to hear that I received visitors,--or worse still, a visitor,--at this hour on this day. But then it is so pleasant to feel oneself to be naughty! There is a Bohemian flavour of picnic about it which, though it does not come up to the rich gusto of real wickedness, makes one fancy that one is on the border of that delightful region in which there is none of the constraint of custom,--where men and women say what they like, and do what they like.”
”It is pleasant enough to be on the borders,” said Phineas.
”That is just it. Of course decency, morality, and propriety, all made to suit the eye of the public, are the things which are really delightful. We all know that, and live accordingly,--as well as we can. I do at least.”
”And do not I, Madame Goesler?”
”I know nothing about that, Mr. Finn, and want to ask no questions.
But if you do, I am sure you agree with me that you often envy the improper people,--the Bohemians,--the people who don't trouble themselves about keeping any laws except those for breaking which they would be put into nasty, unpleasant prisons. I envy them. Oh, how I envy them!”
”But you are free as air.”
”The most cabined, cribbed, and confined creature in the world! I have been fighting my way up for the last four years, and have not allowed myself the liberty of one flirtation;--not often even the recreation of a natural laugh. And now I shouldn't wonder if I don't find myself falling back a year or two, just because I have allowed you to come and see me on a Sunday morning. When I told Lotta that you were coming, she shook her head at me in dismay. But now that you are here, tell me what you have done.”
”Nothing as yet, Madame Goesler.”
”I thought it was to have been settled on Friday?”
”It was settled,--before Friday. Indeed, as I look back at it all now, I can hardly tell when it was not settled. It is impossible, and has been impossible, that I should do otherwise. I still hold my place, Madame Goesler, but I have declared that I shall give it up before the debate comes on.”
”It is quite fixed?”
”Quite fixed, my friend.”
”And what next?” Madame Goesler, as she thus interrogated him, was leaning across towards him from the sofa on which she was placed, with both her elbows resting on a small table before her. We all know that look of true interest which the countenance of a real friend will bear when the welfare of his friend is in question. There are doubtless some who can a.s.sume it without feeling,--as there are actors who can personate all the pa.s.sions. But in ordinary life we think that we can trust such a face, and that we know the true look when we see it. Phineas, as he gazed into Madame Goesler's eyes, was sure that the lady opposite him was not acting. She at least was anxious for his welfare, and was making his cares her own. ”What next?” said she, repeating her words in a tone that was somewhat hurried.
”I do not know that there will be any next. As far as public life is concerned, there will be no next for me, Madame Goesler.”
”That is out of the question,” she said. ”You are made for public life.”
”Then I shall be untrue to my making, I fear. But to speak plainly--”
”Yes; speak plainly. I want to understand the reality.”
”The reality is this. I shall keep my seat to the end of the session, as I think I may be of use. After that I shall give it up.”
”Resign that too?” she said in a tone of chagrin.
”The chances are, I think, that there will be another dissolution. If they hold their own against Mr. Monk's motion, then they will pa.s.s an Irish Reform Bill. After that I think they must dissolve.”
”And you will not come forward again?”
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