Lucile By Owen Meredith [i.e. E. R. B. Lytton] |
 |
|
 | I. |
| II. |
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
 | Lucile |  |
IV.
He turn'd sharply away—
‘Matilda is young, and Matilda is fair;
‘Of all that you tell me pray deem me aware;
‘But Matilda's a statue, Matilda's a child;
‘Matilda loves not—’
‘Matilda is young, and Matilda is fair;
‘Of all that you tell me pray deem me aware;
‘But Matilda's a statue, Matilda's a child;
‘Matilda loves not—’
Lucile quietly smiled
As she answer'd him:—‘Yesterday, all that you say
‘Might be true; it is false, wholly false, though, to-day.’
As she answer'd him:—‘Yesterday, all that you say
‘Might be true; it is false, wholly false, though, to-day.’
‘How?—what mean you?’
226
‘I mean that to-day,’ she replied,
‘The statue with life has become vivified:
‘I mean that the child to a woman has grown:
‘And that woman is jealous.’
‘The statue with life has become vivified:
‘I mean that the child to a woman has grown:
‘And that woman is jealous.’
‘What! she?’ with a tone
Of ironical wonder, he answer'd—‘what, she!
‘She jealous!—Matilda!—of whom, pray?—not me!’
Of ironical wonder, he answer'd—‘what, she!
‘She jealous!—Matilda!—of whom, pray?—not me!’
‘My lord, you deceive yourself; no one but you
‘Is she jealous of. Trust me. And thank Heaven, too,
‘That so lately this passion within her hath grown.
‘For who shall declare, if for months she had known
‘What for days she has known all too keenly, I fear,
‘That knowledge perchance might have cost you more dear?’
‘Is she jealous of. Trust me. And thank Heaven, too,
‘That so lately this passion within her hath grown.
‘For who shall declare, if for months she had known
‘What for days she has known all too keenly, I fear,
‘That knowledge perchance might have cost you more dear?’
‘Explain! explain, madam!’ he cried in surprise;
And terror and anger enkindled his eyes.
And terror and anger enkindled his eyes.
‘How blind are you men!’ she replied. ‘Can you doubt
‘That a woman, young, fair, and neglected—’
‘That a woman, young, fair, and neglected—’
‘Speak out!’
He gasp'd with emotion. ‘Lucile! you mean—what?
‘Do you doubt her fidelity?’
He gasp'd with emotion. ‘Lucile! you mean—what?
‘Do you doubt her fidelity?’
‘Certainly not.
‘Listen to me, my friend. What I wish to explain
‘Is so hard to shape forth. I could almost refrain
‘From touching a subject so fragile. However,
‘Bear with me a while, if I frankly endeavour
‘To invade for one moment your innermost life.
‘Your honour, Lord Alfred, and that of your wife,
‘Are dear to me,—most dear! And I am convinced
‘That you rashly are risking that honour.’
‘Listen to me, my friend. What I wish to explain
‘Is so hard to shape forth. I could almost refrain
‘From touching a subject so fragile. However,
‘Bear with me a while, if I frankly endeavour
‘To invade for one moment your innermost life.
‘Your honour, Lord Alfred, and that of your wife,
227
‘That you rashly are risking that honour.’
He winced,
And turn'd pale, as she spoke.
And turn'd pale, as she spoke.
She had aim'd at his heart,
And she saw, by his sudden and terrified start,
That her aim had not miss'd.
And she saw, by his sudden and terrified start,
That her aim had not miss'd.
‘Stay, Lucile!’ he exclaim'd,
‘What in truth do you mean by these words, vaguely framed
‘To alarm me? Matilda?—my wife?—do you know?’—
‘What in truth do you mean by these words, vaguely framed
‘To alarm me? Matilda?—my wife?—do you know?’—
‘I know that your wife is as spotless as snow.
‘But I know not how far your continued neglect
‘Her nature, as well as her heart, might affect.
‘Till at last, by degrees, that serene atmosphere
‘Of her unconscious purity, faint and yet clear,
‘Like the indistinct golden and vaporous fleece
‘Which surrounded and hid the celestials in Greece
‘From the glances of men, would disperse and depart
‘At the sighs of a sick and delirious heart,—
‘For jealousy is to a woman, be sure,
‘A disease heal'd too oft by a criminal cure;
‘And the heart left too long to its ravage, in time
‘May find weakness in virtue, reprisal in crime.’
‘But I know not how far your continued neglect
‘Her nature, as well as her heart, might affect.
‘Till at last, by degrees, that serene atmosphere
‘Of her unconscious purity, faint and yet clear,
‘Like the indistinct golden and vaporous fleece
‘Which surrounded and hid the celestials in Greece
‘From the glances of men, would disperse and depart
‘At the sighs of a sick and delirious heart,—
‘For jealousy is to a woman, be sure,
‘A disease heal'd too oft by a criminal cure;
‘And the heart left too long to its ravage, in time
‘May find weakness in virtue, reprisal in crime.’
| Lucile | |