a woman of thirty-第39部分

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ace。　From　his　/lyceens/　uniform　he　was　evidently　a　schoolboy；　and　the　book　he　was　reading　was　the　/Arabian　Nights/。　Small　wonder　that　he　was　deeply　absorbed。　He　sat　perfectly　still　in　a　meditative　attitude；　with　his　elbow　on　the　table；　and　his　hand　propping　his　headthe　white　fingers　contrasting　strongly　with　the　brown　hair　into　which　they　were　thrust。　As　he　sat；　with　the　light　turned　full　upon　his　face；　and　the　rest　of　his　body　in　shadow；　he　looked　like　one　of　Raphael's　dark　portraits　of　himselfa　bent　head　and　intent　eyes　filled　with　visions　of　the　future。

Between　the　table　and　the　Marquise　a　tall；　beautiful　girl　sat　at　her　tapestry　frame；　sometimes　she　drew　back　from　her　work；　sometimes　she　bent　over　it；　and　her　hair；　picturesque　in　its　ebony　smoothness　and　darkness；　caught　the　light　of　the　lamp。　Helene　was　a　picture　in　herself。　In　her　beauty　there　was　a　rare　distinctive　character　of　power　and　refinement。　Though　her　hair　was　gathered　up　and　drawn　back　from　her　face；　so　as　to　trace　a　clearly　marked　line　about　her　head；　so　thick　and　abundant　was　it；　so　recalcitrant　to　the　comb；　that　it　sprang　back　in　curl…tendrils　to　the　nape　of　her　neck。　The　bountiful　line　of　eyebrows　was　evenly　marked　out　in　dark　contrasting　outline　upon　her　pure　forehead。　On　her　upper　lip；　beneath　the　Grecian　nose　with　its　sensitively　perfect　curve　of　nostril；　there　lay　a　faint；　swarthy　shadow；　the　sign…manual　of　courage；　but　the　enchanting　roundness　of　contour；　the　frankly　innocent　expression　of　her　other　features；　the　transparence　of　the　delicate　carnations；　the　voluptuous　softness　of　the　lips；　the　flawless　oval　of　the　outline　of　the　face；　and　with　these；　and　more　than　all　these；　the　saintlike　expression　in　the　girlish　eyes；　gave　to　her　vigorous　loveliness　the　distinctive　touch　of　feminine　grace；　that　enchanting　modesty　which　we　look　for　in　these　angels　of　peace　and　love。　Yet　there　was　no　suggestion　of　fragility　about　her；　and；　surely；　with　so　grand　a　woman's　frame；　so　attractive　a　face；　she　must　possess　a　corresponding　warmth　of　heart　and　strength　of　soul。

She　was　as　silent　as　her　schoolboy　brother。　Seemingly　a　prey　to　the　fateful　maiden　meditations　which　baffle　a　father's　penetration　and　even　a　mother's　sagacity；　it　was　impossible　to　be　certain　whether　it　was　the　lamplight　that　cast　those　shadows　that　flitted　over　her　face　like　thin　clouds　over　a　bright　sky；　or　whether　they　were　passing　shades　of　secret　and　painful　thoughts。

Husband　and　wife　had　quite　forgotten　the　two　older　children　at　that　moment；　though　now　and　again　the　General's　questioning　glance　traveled　to　that　second　mute　picture；　a　larger　growth；　a　gracious　realization；　as　it　were；　of　the　hopes　embodied　in　the　baby　forms　rioting　in　the　foreground。　Their　faces　made　up　a　kind　of　living　poem；　illustrating　life's　various　phases。　The　luxurious　background　of　the　salon；　the　different　attitudes；　the　strong　contrasts　of　coloring　in　the　faces；　differing　with　the　character　of　differing　ages；　the　modeling　of　the　forms　brought　into　high　relief　by　the　lightaltogether　it　was　a　page　of　human　life；　richly　illuminated　beyond　the　art　of　painter；　sculptor；　or　poet。　Silence；　solitude；　night　and　winter　lent　a　final　touch　of　majesty　to　complete　the　simplicity　and　sublimity　of　this　exquisite　effect　of　nature's　contriving。　Married　life　is　full　of　these　sacred　hours；　which　perhaps　owe　their　indefinable　charm　to　some　vague　memory　of　a　better　world。　A　divine　radiance　surely　shines　upon　them；　the　destined　compensation　for　some　portion　of　earth's　sorrows；　the　solace　which　enables　man　to　accept　life。　We　seem　to　behold　a　vision　of　an　enchanted　universe；　the　great　conception　of　its　system　widens　out　before　our　eyes；　and　social　life　pleads　for　its　laws　by　bidding　us　look　to　the　future。

Yet　in　spite　of　the　tender　glances　that　Helene　gave　Abel　and　Moina　after　a　fresh　outburst　of　merriment；　in　spite　of　the　look　of　gladness　in　her　transparent　face　whenever　she　stole　a　glance　at　her　father；　a　deep　melancholy　pervaded　her　gestures；　her　attitude；　and　more　than　all；　her　eyes　veiled　by　their　long　lashes。　Those　white；　strong　hands；　through　which　the　light　passed；　tinting　them　with　a　diaphanous；　almost　fluid　redthose　hands　were　trembling。　Once　only　did　the　eyes　of　the　mother　and　daughter　clash　without　shrinking；　and　the　two　women　read　each　other's　thoughts　in　a　look；　cold；　wan；　and　respectful　on　Helene's　part；　sombre　and　threatening　on　her　mother's。　At　once　Helene's　eyes　were　lowered　to　her　work；　she　plied　her　needle　swiftly；　and　it　was　long　before　she　raised　her　head；　bowed　as　it　seemed　by　a　weight　of　thought　too　heavy　to　bear。　Was　the　Marquise　over　harsh　with　this　one　of　her　children？　Did　she　think　this　harshness　needful？　Was　she　jealous　of　Helene's　beauty？She　might　still　hope　to　rival　Helene；　but　only　by　the　magic　arts　of　the　toilette。　Or　again；　had　her　daughter；　like　many　a　girl　who　reaches　the　clairvoyant　age；　read　the　secrets　which　this　wife　（to　all　appearance　so　religiously　faithful　in　the　fulfilment　of　her　duties）　believed　to　be　buried　in　her　own　heart　as　deeply　as　in　a　grave？

Helene　had　reached　an　age　when　purity　of　soul　inclines　to　pass　over…　rigid　judgments。　A　certain　order　of　mind　is　apt　to　exaggerate　transgression　into　crime；　imagination　reacts　upon　conscience；　and　a　young　girl　is　a　hard　judge　because　she　magnifies　the　seriousness　of　the　offence。　Helene　seemed　to　think　herself　worthy　of　no　one。　Perhaps　there　was　a　secret　in　her　past　life；　perhaps　something　had　happened；　unintelligible　to　her　at　the　time；　but　with　gradually　developing　significance　for　a　mind　grown　susceptible　to　religious　influences；　something　which　lately　seemed　to　have　degraded　her；　as　it　were；　in　her　own　eyes；　and　according　to　her　own　romantic　standard。　This　change　in　her　demeanor　dated　from　the　day　of　reading　Schiller's　noble　tragedy　of　/Wilhelm　Tell/　in　a　new　series　of　translations。　Her　mother　scolded　her　for　letting　the　book　fall；　and　then　remarked　to　herself　that　the　passage　which　had　so　worked　on　Helene's　feelings　was　the　scene　in　which　Wilhelm　Tell；　who　spilt　the　blood　of　a　tyrant　to　save　a　nation；　fraternizes　in　some　sort　with　John　the　Parricide。　Helene　had　grown　humble；　dutiful；　and　self…contained；　she　no　longer　cared　for　gaiety。　Never　had　she　made　so　much　of　her　father；　especially　when　the　Marquise　was　not　by　to　watch　her　girlish　caresses。　And　yet；　if　Helene's　affection　for　her　mother　had　cooled　at　all；　the　change　in　her　manner　was　so　slight　as　to　be　almost　imperceptible；　so　slight　that　the　General　could　not　have　noticed　it；　jealous　though　he　might　be　of　the　harmony　of　home。　No　masculine　insight　could　have　sounded　the　depths　of　those　two　feminine　natures；　the　one　was　young　and　generous；　the　other　sensitive　and　proud；　the　first　had　a　wealth　of　indulgence　in　her　nature；　the　second　was　full　of　craft　and　love。　If　the　Marquise　made　her　daughter's　life　a　burden　to　her　by　a　woman's　subtle　tyranny；　it　was　a　tyranny　invisible　to　all　but　the　victim；　and　for　the　rest；　these　conjectures　only　called　forth　after　the　event　must　remain　conjectures。　Until　this　night　no　accusing　flash　of　light　had　escaped　either　of　them；　but　an　ominous　mystery　was　too　surely　growing　up　between　them；　a　mystery　known　only　to　themselves　and　God。

〃Come；　Abel；〃　called　the　M