Philip Van Doren Stern (ed) (177 page)

At
a
time,
even
while
we
strode
forward,
we
turned
again
and
retraced
our
steps;
and
my
mind
took
one
shade
more
of
moodiness. It
was
he
had
turned
and
not
I.
It
was
he
always
who
did
the
thing that
I
was
about
to
do
one
moment
before
I
could
do
it;
and
he
did it
unthinkingly,
assuredly;
with
no
idea
that
rebellion
might
be
about him;
or
that,
being
there,
it
could
become
manifest.

We
re-entered
and
sat
to
meat
with
a
great
company,
and
she
spoke to
us
equally
and
frankly
and
spoke
to
others
with
the
gracious
ease which
was
never
for
a
moment
apart
from
her.

But
I,
brooding
on
her,
intent
on
her
as
with
internal
ears
and
eyes and
fingers,
felt
in
her
an
unwonted
excitement,
touched
something in
her
which
was
not
usual.
When
she
looked
at
me
that
feeling
was intensified;
for
her
bright,
brief
glance,
masked
as
it
was
and
careless as
it
seemed,
held
converse
with
me,
as
though
in
some
realm
of
the spirit
we
were
in
unguarded
communion.

We
were
close
together
then;
nearer
to
each
other
than
we
should be
again;
so
close
that
I
could
feel
with
a
pang
by
what
a
distance we
might
be
separated;
and
could
feel
with
doubled
woe
that
she grieved
for
that
which
she
could
not
comfort.

We
left
the
table.

Little
by
little
the
company
separated
into
small
companies,
and in
a
while
the
great
room
was
boisterous
with
conversation.
They
had withdrawn
and
were
talking
earnestly
together;
and
I
was
roving
about the
room,
sitting
for
a
breath
with
this
company
and
that;
listening to
my
neighbours
with
an
ear
that
was
hearkening
elsewhere;
and replying
to
them
in
terms
that
might
or
might
not
have
been
relevant to
the
subject
I
chanced
on.

But
in
all
my
movements
I
managed
to
be
in
a
position
from
which I
could
watch
those
two;
so
close
in
converse,
so
grave
in
their
conduct
of
it;
so
alive
to
all
that
was
happening
about
them;
and
yet
sunk spheres
below
the
noise
and
gaiety
of
our
companions.

Her
eye
looked
into
mine,
calling
to
me;
and
at
the
signal
I
left my
sentence
at
its
middle
and
went
towards
them.

Crossing
the
room
I
had
a
curious
perception
of
their
eyes
as
they watched
me
advancing;
and,
for
the
first
time,
I
observed
the
gulf which
goes
about
all
people
and
which
isolates
each
irreparably
from his
fellows.
A
sense
of
unreality
came
upon
me,
and,
as
I
looked
on them,
I
looked
on
mystery;
and
they,
staring
at
me,
saw
the
unknown walking
to
them
on
legs.
At
a
stroke
we
had
become
strangers,
and all
the
apprehension
of
strangers
looked
through
our
eyes.