Gallantry - Dizain des Fetes Galantes by James Branch Cabell
page 30 of 345 (08%)
page 30 of 345 (08%)
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"Simon Orts!" she said, in a half-whisper. Then she came toward Lord
Rokesle, smiling. "Why, of course, I teased you, Vincent, but there was never any hard feeling, was there? And you really wish me to marry you? Well, we must see, Vincent. But, as you say, matrimony is a serious matter. D'ye know you say very sensible things, Vincent?--not at all like those silly fops yonder in London. I dare say you and I would be very happy together. But you wouldn't have any respect for me if I married you on a sudden like this, would you? Of course not. So you will let me consider it. Come to me a month from now, say,--is that too long to wait? Well, I think 'tis too long myself. Say a week, then. I must have my wedding-finery, you comprehend. We women are such vain creatures--not big and brave and sensible like you men. See, for example, how much bigger your hand is than mine--mine's quite lost in it, isn't it? So--since I am only a vain, chattering, helpless female thing,--you are going to indulge me and let me go up to London for some new clothes, aren't you, Vincent? Of course you will; and we will be married in a week. But you will let me go to London first, won't you?--away from this dreadful place, away--I didn't mean that. I suppose it is a very agreeable place when you get accustomed to it. And 'tis only for clothes--Oh, I swear it is only for clothes, Vincent! And you said you would--yes, only a moment ago you distinctly said you would let me go. 'Tis not as if I were not coming back--who said I would not come back? Of course I will. But you must give me time, Vincent dear,--you must, you must, I tell you! O God!" she sobbed, and flung from her the loathed hand she was fondling, "it's no use!" "No," said Lord Rokesle, rather sadly. "I am not Samson, nor are you Delilah to cajole me. It's of no use, Anastasia. I would have preferred that you came to me voluntarily, but since you cannot, I mean to take you unwilling. Simon," he called, loudly, "does that rascal intend to spin out his dying interminably? Charon's waiting, man." |
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