SECOND VOICE. Far better a home and loving companionship than
all the philosophy of all the schools; surely Happiness is
greater than Learning, and more to be desired than Wisdom!
FIRST VOICE. Better rather that Destiny had never sent her to
you.
MYSELF (rubbing my chin very hard, and staring at nothing in
particular). Her?
SECOND VOICE. Her!--to be sure, she who has been in your
thoughts all day long.
FIRST VOICE (with lofty disdain). Crass folly!--a woman utterly
unknown, who came heralded by the roar of wind and the rush of
rain--a creature born of the tempest, with flame in her eyes and
hair, and fire in the scarlet of her mouth; a fierce, passionate
being, given to hot impulse--even to the taking of a man's life!
("But," said I, somewhat diffidently, "the fellow was a proved
scoundrel!") FIRST VOICE (bellowing). Sophistry! sophistry! even supposing he
was the greatest of villains, does that make her less a murderess
in intent?
MYSELF. Hum!
FIRST VOICE (roaring). Of course not! Again, can this woman
even faintly compare with your ideal of what a woman should be
--this shrew!--this termagant! Can a woman whose hand has the
strength to level a pistol, and whose mind the will to use it, be
of a nature gentle, clinging, sweet-SECOND VOICE (sotto). And sticky!
FIRST VOICE (howling). Of course not!--preposterous!
(Hereupon, finding no answer, I strode on through the alleys of
the wood; but, when I had gone some distance, I stopped again,
for there rushed over me the recollection of the tender pity of
her eyes and the gentle touch of her hand, as when she had bound
up my hurts.
"Nevertheless," said I doggedly, "her face can grow more
beautiful with pity, and surely no woman's hand could be lighter
or more gentle.") FIRST VOICE (with withering contempt). Our Peter fellow is like
to become a preposterous ass.
(But, unheeding, I thrust my hand into my breast, and drew out a
small handful of cambric, whence came a faint perfume of violets.
And, closing my eyes, it seemed that she was kneeling before me,
her arms about my neck, as when she had bound this handkerchief
about my bleeding temples.
"Truly," said I, "for that one sweet act alone, a woman might be
worth dying for!") SECOND VOICE. Or better still--living for!
FIRST VOICE (in high indignation). Balderdash, Sir!--sentimental
balderdash!
SECOND VOICE. A truth incontrovertible!
("Folly!" said I, and threw the handkerchief from me. But next
moment, moved by a sudden impulse, I stooped and picked it up
again.) FIRST VOICE. Our Peter fellow is becoming the fool of fools!