around； beyond； the dark sky； and the dark mountains； and the dark
sea； like some great dark flower to whose heart is clinging a
jewelled beetle。 So was Monte Carlo on that May night of 1887。
But Mark Lennan； at one of the little marble…topped tables； was in
too great maze and exaltation of spirit and of senses to be
conscious of its glare and babel； even of its beauty。 He sat so
very still that his neighbours； with the instinctive aversion of
the human creature to what is too remote from its own mood； after
one good stare； turned their eyes away； as from something
ludicrous； almost offensive。
He was lost； indeed； in memory of the minutes just gone by。 For it
had come at last； after all these weeks of ferment； after all this
strange time of perturbation。
Very stealthily it had been creeping on him； ever since that chance
introduction nearly a year ago； soon after he settled down in
London； following those six years of Rome and Paris。 First the
merest friendliness； because she was so nice about his work； then
respectful admiration； because she was so beautiful； then pity；
because she was so unhappy in her marriage。 If she had been happy；
he would have fled。 The knowledge that she had been unhappy long
before he knew her had kept his conscience still。 And at last one
afternoon she said： 〃Ah！ if you come out there too！〃 Marvelously
subtle； the way that one little outslipped saying had worked in
him； as though it had a life of its ownlike a strange bird that
had flown into the garden of his heart； and established itself with
its new song and flutterings； its new flight； its wistful and ever
clearer call。 That and one moment； a few days later in her London
drawing…room； when he had told her that he WAS coming； and she did
not； could not； he felt； look at him。 Queer； that nothing
momentous said； doneor even left undonehad altered all the
future！
And so she had gone with her uncle and aunt； under whose wing one
might be sure she would meet with no wayward or exotic happenings。
And he had received from her this little letter：
〃HOTEL COEUR D'OR；
〃MONTE CARLO。
〃MY DEAR MARK；
〃We've arrived。 It is so good to be in the sun。 The flowers are
wonderful。 I am keeping Gorbio and Roquebrune till you come。
〃Your friend；
〃OLIVE CRAMIER。〃
That letter was the single clear memory he had of the time between
her going and his following。 He received it one afternoon； sitting
on an old low garden wall with the spring sun shining on him
through apple…trees in blossom； and a feeling as if all the desire
of the world lay before him； and he had but to stretch out his arms
to take it。
Then confused unrest； all things vague； till at the end of his
journey he stepped out of the train at Beaulieu with a furiously
beating heart。 But why？ Surely he had not expected her to come
out from Monte Carlo to meet him！
A week had gone by since then in one long effort to be with her and
appear to others as though he did not greatly wish to be； two
concerts； two walks with her alone； when all that he had said
seemed as nothing said； and all her sayings but ghosts of what he
wished to hear； a week of confusion； day and night； until； a few
minutes ago； her handkerchief had fallen from her glove on to the
dusty road； and he had picked it up and put it to his lips。
Nothing could take away the look she had given him then。 Nothing
could ever again separate her from him utterly。 She had confessed
in it to the same sweet； fearful trouble that he himself was
feeling。 She had not spoken； but he had seen her lips part； her
breast rise and fall。 And HE had not spoken。 What was the use of
words？
He felt in the pocket of his coat。 There； against his fingers； was
that wisp of lawn and lace； soft； yet somehow alive； and stealthily
he took it out。 The whole of her； with her fragrance； seemed
pressed to his face in the touch of that lawn border； roughened by
little white stars。 More secretly than ever he put it back； and
for the first time looked round。 These people！ They belonged to a
world that he had left。 They gave him the same feeling that her
uncle and aunt had given him just now； when they said good…night；
following her into their hotel。 That good Colonel； that good Mrs。
Ercott！ The very concretion of the world he had been brought up
in； of the English point of view； symbolic figures of health；
reason； and the straight path； on which at that moment； seemingly；
he had turned his back。 The Colonel's profile； ruddy through its
tan； with grey moustache guiltless of any wax； his cheery； high…
pitched： 〃Good…night； young Lennan！〃 His wife's curly smile； her
flat； cosy； confidential voicehow strange and remote they had
suddenly become！ And all these people here； chattering； drinking
how queer and far away！ Or was it just that he was queer and
remote to them？
And getting up from his table； he passed the fiddlers with the
dark…white skins； out into the Place。
II
He went up the side streets to the back of her hotel； and stood by
the railings of the gardenone of those hotel gardens which exist
but to figure in advertisements； with its few arid palms； its paths
staring white between them； and a fringe of dusty lilacs and
mimosas。
And there came to him the oddest feelingthat he had been there
before； peering through blossoms at those staring paths and
shuttered windows。 A scent of wood…smoke was abroad； and some dry
plant rustled ever so faintly in what little wind was stirring。
What was there of memory in this night； this garden？ Some dark
sweet thing； invisible； to feel whose presence was at once ecstasy；
and the irritation of a thirst that will not be quenched。
And he walked on。 Houses； houses！ At last he was away from them；
alone on the high road； beyond the limits of Monaco。 And walking
thus through the night he had thoughts that he imagined no one had
ever had before him。 The knowledge that she loved him had made
everything seem very sacred and responsible。 Whatever he did； he
must not harm her。 Women were so helpless！
For in spite of six years of art in Rome and Paris； he still had a
fastidious reverence for women。 If she had loved her husband she
would have been safe enough from him； but to be bound to a
companionship that she gave unwillinglythis had seemed to him
atrocious； even before he loved her。 How could any husband ask
that？ Have so little prideso little pity？ The unpardonable
thing！ What was there to respect in such a marriage？ Only； he
must not do her harm！ But now that her eyes had said； I love you！
What then？ It was simply miraculous to know THAT； under the stars
of this warm Southern night； burning its incense of trees and
flowers！
Climbing up above the road； he lay down。 If only she were there
beside him！ The fragrance of the earth not yet chilled； crept to
his face； and for just a moment it seemed to him that she did come。
If he could keep her there for ever in that embrace that was no
embracein that ghostly rapture； on this wild fragrant bed that no
lovers before had ever pressed； save the creeping things； and the
flowers； save sunlight and moonlight with their shadows； and the
wind kissing the earth！ 。 。 。
Then she was gone； his hands touched nothing but the crumbled pine
dust； and the flowers of the wild thyme fallen into sleep。
He stood on the edge of the little cliff； above the road between
the dark mountains and the sea black with depth。 Too late for any
passer…by； as far from what men thought and said and did as the
very night itself with its whispering warmth。 And he conjured up
her face； making certain of itthe eyes； clear and brown； and wide
apart； the close； sweet mouth； the dark hair； the whole flying
loveliness。
Then he leaped down into the road； and ranone could not walk；
feeling this miracle； that no one had ever felt before； the miracle
of love。
III
In their most reputable hotel 'Le Coeur d'Or；' long since
remodelled and renamed； Mrs。 Ercott lay in her brass…bound bed
looking by starlight at the Colonel in his brass…bound bed。 Her
ears were carefully freed from the pressure of her pillow； for she
thought she heard a mosquito。 Companion for thirty years to one
whose life had been feverishly punctuated by the attentions of
those little beasts； she had no love for them。 It was the one
subject on which perhaps her imagination was stronger than her
common sense。 For in fact there was not； and could not be； a
mosquito； since the first thing the Colonel did； on arriving at any
place farther South than Parallel 46 of latitude； was to open the
windows very wide； and nail with many tiny tacks a piece of
mosquito netting across that refreshing space； while she held him
firmly by the coat…tails。 The fact that other people did not so
secure their windows did not at all trouble the Colonel； a true
Englishman； who loved to act in his own way； and to think in the
ways of other people。 After that they would wait till night came；
then burn a peculiar little lamp with a peculiar little smell； and；
in the full glare of the gaslight； stand about on chairs； with
slippers； and their eyes fixed on true or imaginary beasts。 Then
would fall little slaps； making little messes； and little joyous or
doleful cries would arise： 〃I've got that one！〃 〃Oh； John； I
missed him！〃 And in the middle of the room； the Colonel； in
pyjamas； and spectacles （only worn in very solemn moments； low down
on his nose）； would revolve slowly； turning his eyes； with that
look in them of out…facing death which he had so long acquired； on
every inch of wall and ceiling； till at last he would say： 〃Well；
Dolly； that's the lot！〃 At which she would say： 〃Give me a kiss；
dear！〃 and he would kiss her； and get into his bed。
There was； then； no mosquito； save that general ghost of him which
lingered in the mind of one devoted to her husband。 Spying out his
profile； for he was lying on his back； she refrained from saying：
〃John； are you awake？〃 A whiffling sound was coming from a nose；
to whichoriginally straightattention to military duties had
given a slight crook； half an inch below the level of grizzled
eyebrows raised a little； as thoug