The Egoist eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 707 pages of information about The Egoist.

The Egoist eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 707 pages of information about The Egoist.

“Should be!” Willoughby’s tone was a pungent comment on her.

“Love, then, I find I have not.  I think I am antagonistic to it.  What people say of it I have not experienced.  I find I was mistaken.  It is lightly said, but very painful.  You understand me, that my prayer is for liberty, that I may not be tied.  If you can release and pardon me, or promise ultimately to pardon me, or say some kind word, I shall know it is because I am beneath you utterly that I have been unable to give you the love you should have with a wife.  Only say to me, go!  It is you who break the match, discovering my want of a heart.  What people think of me matters little.  My anxiety will be to save you annoyance.”

She waited for him; he seemed on the verge of speaking.

He perceived her expectation; he had nothing but clownish tumult within, and his dignity counselled him to disappoint her.

Swaying his head, like the oriental palm whose shade is a blessing to the perfervid wanderer below, smiling gravely, he was indirectly asking his dignity what he could say to maintain it and deal this mad young woman a bitterly compassionate rebuke.  What to think, hung remoter.  The thing to do struck him first.

He squeezed both her hands, threw the door wide open, and said, with countless blinkings:  “In the laboratory we are uninterrupted.  I was at a loss to guess where that most unpleasant effect on the senses came from.  They are always ‘guessing’ through the nose.  I mean, the remainder of breakfast here.  Perhaps I satirized them too smartly—­if you know the letters.  When they are not ‘calculating’.  More offensive than debris of a midnight banquet!  An American tour is instructive, though not so romantic.  Not so romantic as Italy, I mean.  Let us escape.”

She held back from his arm.  She had scattered his brains; it was pitiable:  but she was in the torrent and could not suffer a pause or a change of place.

“It must be here; one minute more—­I cannot go elsewhere to begin again.  Speak to me here; answer my request.  Once; one word.  If you forgive me, it will be superhuman.  But, release me.”

“Seriously,” he rejoined, “tea-cups and coffee-cups, breadcrumbs. egg-shells, caviare, butter, beef, bacon!  Can we?  The room reeks.”

“Then I will go for my walk with Miss Dale.  And you will speak to me when I return?”

“At all seasons.  You shall go with Miss Dale.  But, my dear! my love!  Seriously, where are we?  One hears of lover’s quarrels.  Now I never quarrel.  It is a characteristic of mine.  And you speak of me to my cousin Vernon!  Seriously, plighted faith signifies plighted faith, as much as an iron-cable is iron to hold by.  Some little twist of the mind?  To Vernon, of all men!  Tush! she has been dreaming of a hero of perfection, and the comparison is unfavourable to her Willoughby.  But, my Clara, when I say to you, that bride is bride, and you are mine, mine!”

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Project Gutenberg
The Egoist from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.