Thus saying, she took the jewelled flower out of her hair; and it
struck me as the act of a queen, when worsted in a combat, discrowning
herself, as if she found a sort of relief in abasing all her pride.
"Bid her wear this for Zenobia's sake," she continued. "She is a
pretty little creature, and will make as soft and gentle a wife as the
veriest Bluebeard could desire. Pity that she must fade so soon! These
delicate and puny maidens always do. Ten years hence, let
Hollingsworth look at my face and Priscilla's, and then choose betwixt
them. Or, if he pleases, let him do it now."
How magnificently Zenobia looked as she said this! The effect of her
beauty was even heightened by the over-consciousness and
self-recognition of it, into which, I suppose, Hollingsworth's scorn
had driven her. She understood the look of admiration in my face;
and--Zenobia to the last--it gave her pleasure.
"It is an endless pity," said she, "that I had not bethought myself of
winning your heart, Mr. Coverdale, instead of Hollingsworth's. I think
I should have succeeded, and many women would have deemed you the
worthier conquest of the two. You are certainly much the handsomest
man. But there is a fate in these things. And beauty, in a man, has
been of little account with me since my earliest girlhood, when, for
once, it turned my head. Now, farewell!"
"Zenobia, whither are you going?" I asked.
"No matter where," said she. "But I am weary of this place, and sick
to death of playing at philanthropy and progress. Of all varieties of
mock-life, we have surely blundered into the very emptiest mockery in
our effort to establish the one true system. I have done with it; and
Blithedale must find another woman to superintend the laundry, and you,
Mr. Coverdale, another nurse to make your gruel, the next time you fall
ill. It was, indeed, a foolish dream! Yet it gave us some pleasant
summer days, and bright hopes, while they lasted. It can do no more;
nor will it avail us to shed tears over a broken bubble. Here is my
hand! Adieu!"
She gave me her hand with the same free, whole-souled gesture as on the
first afternoon of our acquaintance, and, being greatly moved, I
bethought me of no better method of expressing my deep sympathy than to
carry it to my lips. In so doing, I perceived that this white hand--so
hospitably warm when I first touched it, five months since--was now
cold as a veritable piece of snow.