The Squadron Ball was in full swing between midnight and the first hour of morning. The flowers had not lost their freshness, the odours of dust and feverish7 human breath had not yet polluted the atmosphere. The windows were open to the purple night, the purple sea. The stars seemed to be close outside the verandah, shining on purpose for the dancers; and these two — the man tall, pale, dark, with flashing eyes and short, sleek8 raven9 hair, small head, noble bearing; the girl divinely lovely in her marble purity of complexion10, her classical grace of form — these two were, as every one avowed11 and acknowledged, the handsomest couple in the room.
‘We’re none of us in it compared with them,’ said a young naval12 commander to his partner, whereupon the young lady looked somewhat sourly, and replied that Lady Lesbia’s features were undeniably regular and her complexion good, but that she was wanting in soul.
‘Is she?’ asked the sailor, incredulously, ‘Look at her now. What do you call that, if it isn’t soul?’
‘I call it simply disgraceful,’ answered his partner, sharply turning away her head.
Lesbia was looking up at the Spaniard, her lips faintly parted, all her face listening eagerly as she caught some whispered word, breathed among the soft ripples14 of her hair, from lips that almost touched her brow. People cannot go on waltzing for ten minutes in a dead silence, like automatic dancers. There must be conversation. Only it is better that the lips should do most of the talking. When the eyes have so much to say society is apt to be censorious.
Mr. Smithson was smoking a cigarette on the lawn with a sporting peer. A man to whom tobacco is a necessity cannot be always on guard; but it is quite possible that in the present state of Lady Lesbia’s feelings Smithson would have had no restraining influence had he been ever so watchful15. To what act in the passion drama had her love come to-night as she floated round the room, with her head inclined towards her lover’s breast, the strong pulsation16 of his heart sounding in her ear, like the rhythmical17 beat of the basses18 yonder in Waldteufel’s last waltz? Was there still the uncertainty19 as to the denouement20 which marks the third act of a good play? or was there the dread21 foreboding, the sense of impending22 doom23 which should stir the spectators with pity and terror as the fourth act hurries to its passionate24 close? Who could tell? She had been full of life and energy to-day on board the yacht during the racing25, in which she seemed to take an ardent26 interest. The Cayman had followed the racers for three hours through a freshening sea, much to Lady Kirkbank’s disgust, and Lesbia had been the soul of the party. The same yesterday. The yacht had only got back to Cowes in time for the ball, and all had been hurry and excitement while the ladies dressed and crossed to the club, the spray dashing over their opera mantles27, poor Lady Kirkbank’s complexion yellow with mal de mer, in spite of a double coating of Blanc de Fedora, the last fashionable cosmetic28.
To-night Lesbia was curiously29 silent, depressed30 even, as it seemed to those who were interested in observing her; and all the world is interested in a famous beauty. She was very pale, even her lips were colourless, and the large violet eyes and firmly pencilled brows alone gave colour to her face. She looked like a marble statue, the eyes and eyebrows31 accentuated32 with touches of colour. Those lovely eyes had a heavy look, as of trouble, weariness; nay33, absolute distress34.
Never had she looked less brilliant than to-night; never had she looked more beautiful. It was the loveliness of a newly-awakened soul. The wonderful Pandora-casket of life, with its infinite evil, its little good, had given up its secret. She knew what passionate love really means. She knew what such love mostly means — self-sacrifice, surrender of the world’s wealth, severance36 from friends, the breaking of all old ties. To love as she loved means the crossing of a river more fatal than the Rubicon, the casting of a die more desperate than that which Caesar flung upon the board when he took up arms against the Republic.
The river was not yet crossed, but her feet were on the margin37, wet with the ripple13 of the stream. The fatal die was not yet cast, but the dice-box was in her hand ready for the throw. Lesbia and Montesma danced together — not too often, three waltzes out of sixteen — but when they were so waltzing they were the cynosure38 of the room. That betting of which Maulevrier had heard was rife39 to-night, and the odds40 upon the Cuban had gone up. It was nine to four now that those two would be over the border before the week was out.
Mr. Smithson was not neglectful of his affianced. He took her into the supper-room, where she drank some Moselle cup, but ate nothing. He sat out three or four waltzes with her on the lawn, listening to the murmer of the sea, and talking very little.
‘You are looking wretchedly ill to-night, Lesbia,’ he said, after a dismal41 silence.
‘I am sorry that I should put you to shame by my bad looks,’ she answered, with that keen acidity42 of tone which indicates irritated nerves.
‘You know that I don’t mean anything of the kind; you are always lovely, always the loveliest everywhere; but I don’t like to see you so ghastly pale.’
‘I suppose I am over-fatigued: that I have done too much in London and here. Life in Westmoreland was very different,’ she added, with a sigh, and a touch of wonder that the Lesbia Haselden, whose methodical life had never been stirred by a ruffle43 of passion, could have been the same flesh and blood — yes, verily, the same woman, whose heart throbbed44 so vehemently45 to-night, whose brain seemed on fire.
‘Are you sure there is nothing the matter?’ he asked, with a faint quiver in his voice.
‘What should there be the matter?’
‘Who can say? God knows that I know no cause for evil. I am honest enough, and faithful enough, Lesbia. But your face to-night is like a presage46 of calamity47, like the dull, livid sky that goes before a thunderstorm.’
‘I hope there is no thunderbolt coming,’ she answered, lightly. ‘What very tall talk about a headache, for really that is all that ails48 me. Hark, they have begun “My Queen.” I am engaged for this waltz.’
‘I am sorry for that.’
‘So am I. I would ever so much rather have stayed out here.’
Two hours later, in the steely morning light, when sea and land and sky had a metallic49 look as if lit by electricity, Lady Lesbia stood with her chaperon and her affianced husband on the landing stage belonging to the club, ready to step into the boat in which six swarthy seamen50 in red shirts and caps were to row them back to the yacht. Mr. Smithson drew the warm sortie de bal, with its gold-coloured satin lining5 and white fox border, closer round Lesbia’s slender form.
‘You are shivering,’ he said; ‘you ought to have warmer wraps.
‘This is warm enough for St. Petersburg. I am only tired — very tired.’
‘The Cayman will rock you to sleep.’
Don Gomez was standing51 close by, waiting for his host. The two men were to walk up the hill to Formosa, a village with a classic portico52, delightfully53 situated54 above the town.
‘What time are we to come to breakfast? asked Mr. Smithson.
‘Not too early, in mercy’s name. Two o’clock in the afternoon, three, four; — why not make it five — combine breakfast with afternoon tea,’ exclaimed Lady Kirkbank, with a tremendous yawn. ‘I never was so thoroughly55 fagged; I feel as if I had been beaten with sticks, basti — what’s its name.’
She was leaning all her weight upon Mr. Smithson, as he handed her down the steps and into the boat. Her normal weight was not a trifle, and this morning she was heavy with champagne56 and sleep. Carefully as Smithson supported her she gave a lurch57 at the bottom of the steps, and plunged58 ponderously59 into the boat, which dipped and careened under her, whereat she shrieked60, and implored61 Mr. Smithson to save her.
All this, occupied some minutes, and gave Lesbia and the Cuban just time for a few words that had to be said somehow.
‘Good-night,’ said Montesma, as they clasped hands; ‘good-night;’ and then in a lower voice he said, ‘Well, have you decided62 at last? Shall it be?’
She looked at him for a moment or so, pale in the starlight, and then murmured an almost inaudible syllable63.
‘Yes.’
He bent quickly and pressed his lips upon her gloved hand, and when Mr. Smithson looked round they two were standing apart, Montesma in a listless attitude, as if tired of waiting for his host.
It was Smithson who handed Lesbia into the boat and arranged her wraps, and hung over her tenderly as he performed those small offices.
‘Now really,’ he asked, just before the boat put off, ‘when are we to be with you to-morrow?’
‘Lady Kirkbank says not till afternoon tea, but I think you may come a few hours earlier. I am not at all sleepy.’
‘You look as if you needed sleep badly,’ answered Smithson. ‘I’m afraid you are not half careful enough of yourself. Good-night.’
The boat was gliding off, the oars64 dipping, as he spoke65. How swiftly it shot from his ken35, flashing in and out among the yachts, where the lamps were burning dimly in that clear radiance of new-born day.
Montesma gave a tremendous yawn as he took out his cigar-case, and he and Mr. Smithson did not say twenty words between them during the walk to Formosa, where servants were sitting up, lamps burning, a great silver tray, with brandy, soda66, liqueurs, coffee, in readiness.
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1
indictment
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| n.起诉；诉状 | |
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gliding
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| v. 滑翔 adj. 滑动的 | |
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spacious
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| adj.广阔的，宽敞的 | |
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ballroom
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| n.舞厅 | |
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lining
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| n.衬里，衬料 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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sleek
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| adj.光滑的，井然有序的；v.使光滑，梳拢 | |
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raven
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| n.渡鸟，乌鸦；adj.乌亮的 | |
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complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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avowed
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| adj.公开声明的，承认的v.公开声明，承认( avow的过去式和过去分词) | |
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12
naval
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| adj.海军的，军舰的，船的 | |
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ripple
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| n.涟波，涟漪，波纹，粗钢梳；vt.使...起涟漪，使起波纹； vi.呈波浪状，起伏前进 | |
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ripples
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| 逐渐扩散的感觉( ripple的名词复数 ) | |
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watchful
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| adj.注意的，警惕的 | |
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pulsation
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| n.脉搏，悸动，脉动；搏动性 | |
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rhythmical
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| adj.有节奏的，有韵律的 | |
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basses
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| 低音歌唱家，低音乐器( bass的名词复数 ) | |
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uncertainty
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| n.易变，靠不住，不确知，不确定的事物 | |
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denouement
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| n.结尾，结局 | |
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dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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impending
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| a.imminent, about to come or happen | |
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doom
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| n.厄运，劫数；v.注定，命定 | |
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24
passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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25
racing
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| n.竞赛，赛马；adj.竞赛用的，赛马用的 | |
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ardent
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，强烈的，烈性的 | |
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27
mantles
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| vt.&vi.覆盖（mantle的第三人称单数形式） | |
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cosmetic
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| n.化妆品；adj.化妆用的；装门面的；装饰性的 | |
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curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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depressed
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| adj.沮丧的，抑郁的，不景气的，萧条的 | |
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eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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32
accentuated
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| v.重读( accentuate的过去式和过去分词 )；使突出；使恶化；加重音符号于 | |
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nay
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| adv.不；n.反对票，投反对票者 | |
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distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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ken
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| n.视野，知识领域 | |
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severance
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| n.离职金；切断 | |
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margin
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| n.页边空白；差额；余地，余裕；边，边缘 | |
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cynosure
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| n.焦点 | |
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rife
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| adj.(指坏事情)充斥的，流行的，普遍的 | |
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odds
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| n.让步，机率，可能性，比率；胜败优劣之别 | |
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41
dismal
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| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
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42
acidity
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| n.酸度，酸性 | |
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43
ruffle
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| v.弄皱，弄乱；激怒，扰乱；n.褶裥饰边 | |
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44
throbbed
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| 抽痛( throb的过去式和过去分词 )； （心脏、脉搏等）跳动 | |
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vehemently
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| adv. 热烈地 | |
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46
presage
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| n.预感，不祥感；v.预示 | |
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47
calamity
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| n.灾害，祸患，不幸事件 | |
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48
ails
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| v.生病( ail的第三人称单数 )；感到不舒服；处境困难；境况不佳 | |
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49
metallic
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| adj.金属的；金属制的；含金属的；产金属的；像金属的 | |
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50
seamen
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| n.海员 | |
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51
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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52
portico
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| n.柱廊，门廊 | |
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53
delightfully
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| 大喜，欣然 | |
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situated
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| adj.坐落在...的，处于某种境地的 | |
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55
thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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56
champagne
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| n.香槟酒；微黄色 | |
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lurch
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| n.突然向前或旁边倒；v.蹒跚而行 | |
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58
plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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59
ponderously
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shrieked
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| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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implored
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| 恳求或乞求（某人）( implore的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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syllable
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| n.音节；vt.分音节 | |
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oars
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| n.桨，橹( oar的名词复数 )；划手v.划（行）( oar的第三人称单数 ) | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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soda
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| n.苏打水；汽水 | |
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