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Such were my temptationsand in this disposition to give way to them, was I left alone with the lady, with her hand in mine, and with our faces both turnd closer to the door of the remise than what was absolutely necessary. The Remise Door Calais This certainly, fair lady! said I, raising her hand up a little lightly as I began, must be one of Fortunes whimsical doings: to take two utter strangers by their handsof different sexes, and perhaps from different corners of the globe, and in one moment place them together in such a cordial situation, as Friendship herself could scarce have atchieved for them, had she projected it for a month. And your reflection upon it, shews how much, Monsieur,1 she has embarrassed you by the adventure. When the situation is what we would wish, nothing is so ill-timed as to hint at the circumstances which make it so: you thank Fortune, continued sheyou had reasonthe heart knew it, and was satisfied; and who but an English philosopher2 would have sent notices of it to the brain to reverse the judgment? In saying this, she disengaged her hand with a look which I thought a sufficient commentary upon the text. It is a miserable picture which I am going to give of the weakness of my heart, by owning, that it suffered a pain, which worthier occasions could not have inflicted.I was mortified with the loss of her hand, and the manner in which I had lost it carried neither oil nor wine to the wound: I never felt the pain of a sheepish inferiority so miserably in my life. The triumphs of a true feminine heart are short upon these discomfitures. In a very few seconds she laid her hand upon the cuff of my coat, in order to finish her reply; so some way or other, God knows how, I regaind my situation. She had nothing to add. I forthwith began to model a different conversation for the lady, thinking from the spirit as well as moral of this, that I had been mistaken in her character; but upon turning her face towards me, the spirit which had animated the reply was fledthe muscles relaxd, and I beheld the same unprotected look of distress which first won me to her interestmelancholy! to see such sprightliness the prey of sorrowI pitied her from my soul; and tho it may seem ridiculous enough to a torpid heart,I could have taken her into my arms and cherishd her, tho it was in the open street, without blushing. The pulsations of the arteries along my fingers pressing across hers, told her what was passing within me: she looked downa silence of some moments followed. I fear, in this interval, I must have made some slight efforts towards a closer compression of her hand, from a subtle sensation I felt in the palm of my ownnot as if she was going to withdraw hersbut, as if she thought about itand I had infallibly lost it a second time, had not instinct more than reason directed me to the last resource in these dangersto hold it loosely and in a manner as if I was every moment going to release it, of myself; so she let it continue, till Monsieur Dessein returned with the key; and in the mean time I set myself to consider how I should undo the ill impressions which the poor monks story, in case he had told it her, must have planted in her breast against me. The Snuff-Box Calais |
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