Part 2 (1/2)
Miss Doran has no prejudices, and, in the vulgar sense of the word, no principles. She is familiar with the Latin cla.s.sics and with the Parisian feuilletons; she knows all about the newest religion, and can tell you Sarcey's opinion of the newest play. Miss Doran will discuss with you the merits of Sarah Bernhardt in 'La Dame aux Camelias,' or the literary theories of the brothers Goncourt. I am not sure that she knows much about Shakespeare, but her appreciation of Baudelaire is exquisite. I don't think she is naturally very cruel, but she can plead convincingly the cause of vivisection. Miss Doran--”
Spence interrupted him with a burst of laughter.
”All which, my dear fellow, simply means that you--”
Mallard, in his turn, interrupted gruffly.
”Precisely: that I am the wrong man to hold even the position of steward to one so advanced. What have I to do with heiresses and fas.h.i.+onable ladies? I have my work to get on with, and it shall not suffer from the intrusion of idlers.”
”I see you direct your diatribe half against Mrs. Lessingham. How has she annoyed you?”
”Annoyed me? You never were more mistaken. It's with myself that I am annoyed.”
”On what account?”
”For being so absurd as to question sometimes whether my responsibility doesn't extend beyond stock and share. I ask myself whether Doran--who so befriended me, and put such trust in me, and paid me so well in advance for the duties I was to undertake--didn't take it for granted that I should exercise some influence in the matter of his daughter's education? Is she growing up what he would have wished her to be? And if--”
”Why, it's no easy thing to say what views he had on this subject. The lax man, we know, is often enough severe with his own womankind. But as you have given me no description of what Cecily really is, I can offer no judgment. Wait till I have seen her. Doubtless she fulfils her promise of being beautiful?”
”Yes; there is no denying her beauty.”
”As for her _modonite_, why, Mr. Ross Mallard is a singular person to take exception on that score.”
”I don't know about that. When did I say that the modern woman was my ideal?”
”When had you ever a good word for the system which makes of woman a dummy and a kill-joy?”
”That has nothing to do with the question,” replied Mallard, preserving a tone of gruff impartiality. ”Have I been faithful to my stewards.h.i.+p?
When I consented to Cecily's--to Miss Doran's pa.s.sing from Mrs. Elgar's care to that of Mrs. Lessingham, was I doing right?”
”Mallard, you are a curious instance of the Puritan conscience surviving in a man whose intellect is liberated. The note of your character, including your artistic character, is this conscientiousness. Without it, you would have had worldly success long ago. Without it, you wouldn't talk nonsense of Cecily Doran. Had you rather she were co=operating with Mrs. Baske in a scheme to rebuild all the chapels in Lancas.h.i.+re?”
”There is a medium.”
”Why, yes. A neither this nor that, an insipid refinement, a taste for culture moderated by reverence for Mrs. Grundy.”
”Perhaps you are right. It's only occasionally that I am troubled in this way. But I heartily wish the three years remaining were over.”
”And the 'definite good-bye' spoken. A good phrase, that of yours. What possessed you to come here just now, if it disturbs you to be kept in mind of these responsibilities?”
”I should find it hard to tell you. The very sense of responsibility, I suppose. But, as I said, I am not going to stay in Naples.”
”You'll come and give us a 'definite good-bye' before you leave?”
Mallard said nothing, but turned and began to move on. They pa.s.sed one of the sentry-boxes which here along the ridge mark the limits of Neapolitan excise; a boy-soldier, musket in hand, cast curious glances at them. After walking in silence for a few minutes, they began to descend the eastern face of the hill, and before them lay that portion of the great gulf which pictures have made so familiar. The landscape was still visible in all its main details, still softly suffused with warm colours from the west. About the cone of Vesuvius a darkly purple cloud was gathering; the twin height of Somma stood clear and of a rich brown. Naples, the many-coloured, was seen in profile, climbing from the Castel dell' Ovo, around which the sea slept, to the rock of Sant'
Elmo; along the curve of the Chiaia lights had begun to glimmer. Far withdrawn, the craggy promontory of Sorrento darkened to profoundest blue; and Capri veiled itself in mist.
CHAPTER II
CECILY DORAN
Villa Sannazaro had no architectural beauty; it was a building of considerable size, irregular, in need of external repair. Through the middle of it ran a great archway, guarded by copies of the two Molossian hounds which stand before the Hall of Animals in the Vatican; beneath the arch, on the right-hand side, was the main entrance to the house. If you pa.s.sed straight through, you came out upon a terrace, where grew a magnificent stone-pine and some robust agaves. The view hence was uninterrupted, embracing the line of the bay from Posillipo to Cape Minerva. From the parapet bordering the platform you looked over a descent of twenty feet, into a downward sloping vineyard.